The Heath-house. 619 



much sand, so much loam, and mix all well together, for we 

 will pot the New Holland plants to-day; or to the boy, Get the 

 pots all ready crocked ? Do you think these plants would require 

 all potting at the same time, and in the same soil ? I think I 

 hear you say, No. Some of these plants make their growth at 

 a very different season from what others do ; some are natives of 

 high hills, others are natives of swamps and valleys; some grow 

 amongst flints, stones, chalk, limestone, sandy places, loam, and 

 rotten vegetable earth : therefore, do you not think I should be 

 wrong in attempting to pot them all at one time, all in one mix- 

 ture, because they all came from New Holland ? Now this 

 is precisely my system all through, even with pine plants (which 

 I shall come to by and by), which is, to take the opportunity of 

 potting each plant at any season when it wants it, and not to 

 return home and pot a house full of plants, because I saw my 

 neighbour do his yesterday. 



Every man that is fond of the profession he follows will 

 have a season of his own, and not do as I once saw a man do. 

 He came to see me at a time when I was watering my bed of 

 early cucumbers with cold water : he went home, watered his 

 own the same way, but not considering whether his bed was in 

 the same state as my own, he killed the whole of his plants, 

 and the next day he came to abuse me for setting him a bad 

 example, and was kind enough to tell me at once that I was the 

 means of his killing his cucumbers. I reminded him that 

 he had asked me if I often watered them in that way, and that 

 I told him as often as they required it; that he saw where I 

 fetched the water from, and that I had not advised him to water 

 his in the way that I did. He said he suspected I had set a 

 trap to catch him in. I told him to go home and begin to 

 work himself in 85° of heat for three hours, come out in his 

 shirt sleeves when a sharp east wind was blowing, and the tem- 

 perature out of doors about 35°, to drink heartily at the 

 pump ; and then see if he should be able to eat a hearty sup- 

 per afterwards. He thought not. Then why blame me for 

 having killed your cucumbers ? That man is now living, and 

 had not forgotten the circumstance the last time I saw him. 



The first time the thought occurred to me of using rough 

 soil was when I was about eleven years old. I went with my 

 father one morning, at five o'clock, to where there were some 

 heaps of mould of different sorts, to assist him to chop it down, 

 and fill the sieves. I remember as well the very spot, and what 

 passed, as if it had happened this day ; for I got very hungry 

 towards eight o'clock, and fancied breakfast-time would never 

 come. I asked my father if the mould would not do to grow 

 cucumbers in if we were to chop it down, and knock it to pieces 

 with the back of the spade, and pick out the stones. He asked 



