OR, HOW I BECAME A FLORIST. 55 



few nails, and a hammer, I managed to construct with my 

 own hands my first potting bench. It was a sorry-looking 

 affair, but would answer my purpose quite as well as if X 

 had ordered a carpenter to make it, at an expense which I 

 could not afford. One thing I was determined to avoid, and 

 that was debt. By making my own bench, as I have de- 

 scribed, I steered clear of this rock, on which so many are 

 wrecked. Next, getting a coal-hod and a spade, I procured 

 the richest soil I could find in my garden, and in an hour 

 had the satisfaction of seeing my tuberoses potted, plunged, 

 and in order. 



The following morning I was up in good season, resolved 

 to finish taking an account of stock before the heat became 

 oppressive. My garden was at one side of the house, and 

 extended along the street for ten rods. The width was about 

 seventy-five feet. The ground was not cut up with walks ; 

 a single narrow path ran through the middle, leaving al- 

 most the entire space for cultivation. The plants were set 

 out in solid rows, filling the whole ground from one end to 

 the other. All the plants of a sort were placed by them- 

 selves. First came the roses, of all kinds, planted in regu- 

 lar ranks ; then my four dozen heliotropes, then a quantity 

 of lilium candidurn, as Mr. McTernan called them. Ad- 

 joining was a broad strip of verbenas, and next a bed of 

 mignonnette. Beyond were several rows of white flowers, 

 feverfews, I supposed, several also of double gillyflowers, 

 a row of geraniums, some ranks of larkspur, six full rows of 



