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JOURNAL OP HOBTICtfLTTJEE AND COTTAGE GAEDENEB. 



[ June 2, 1863. 



known that he had safely arrived, a great many of the 57th 

 turned out, and gave three hearty cheers of welcome, to the 

 astonishment of many in the camp. 



The taste descended to still lower grades, and the well-known 

 correspondent of the Times has left this record from the camp : — 

 " The taste for gardening is, I am glad to say, well developed ; 

 and it is all the more graceful and laudable that it is indulged 

 in under the most disadvantageous circumstances. Most seeds 

 have a decided cryptic character here, and refuse to come up 

 and look at the sun. If they do, there are rats, the cats, the 

 dogs, and the fowlB at them night and day — besides flies and 

 ants, and creepers of an infinite variety and ehape, and a multi- 

 plicity of legs, claws, teeth, and nippers. The French have been 

 more successful than ourselves ; perhaps they had better ground, 

 and paid more attention to watering. Their little gardens by 

 the Tehernaya are quite green, ours are generally of a fine Van- 

 dyke brown. Military horticulture is of an eminently culinary 

 character. None of your Fuchsias or Camellias, or pretty 

 plants and flowers with ugly names, but strong-smelling, 

 vigorous potherbs — they are the desiderata. An acre of Mig- 

 nonette is not worth a square yard of 'Spring Onions' — miles 

 -of glowing Orchids would not be compared for a moment with 

 a few Lettuces, or even a good bed of Dandelions, of which the 

 " French have taught us to make a pungent and excellent salad. 

 The longing for 'green meat' is but imperfectly satisfied, not- 

 withstanding the number of coasters which come into Balaklava, 

 and notably into Kamiesch, laden with vegetables. When a 

 man asks you to dinner, his lure is not fish or game, or even a 

 turkey, or a bustard from Sinope, but ' a jolly salad.' " 



Let us pass next to within the prison's walls and cells. Locks 

 and bolts and chains cannot exclude gardening even from thence. 

 Man loves to look upon plants — if only, like Ophelia's Bose- 

 mary, " for remembrance." Warren Hastings bore evidence to 

 this feeling. His partiality for Iub seat at Dalesford, bought 

 on his return from India, is well known. "There is a small 

 wood near the house," he said to Lord Eedesdale, "the 

 flowers and paths of which I had on my mind all the time I 

 was in the East. In the house I passed much of my infancy, 

 and I feel for it an affection of which an alien could not be 

 susceptible." 



Then who does not know the story of "Picciola" and the 

 plant which solaced the prisoner? Turning to more modern 

 timeB, and scarcely able to credit that so recently as 1811 Leigh 

 Hunt and his brother were tried, condemned, and imprisoned 

 in Horsemonger Lane Gaol for speaking of the Prince Eegent 

 as a middle-aged Adonis ! we 6nd Leigh Hunt thus describing 

 how he triumphed over the tyranny : — 



" I papered the walls with a trellis of Eoses ; I had the 

 ceiling coloured with clouds and sky ; the barred windows 

 were screened with Venetian blinds ; and when my bookcases 

 were set up with their busts and flowers, and a piano-forte 

 made its appearance, perhaps ther^ was not a handsomer room 

 on that ?ide the water. Charles Lamb declared there was no 

 other such room except in a fairy tale. But I had another 

 surprise, which was a garden. There was a little yard outside, 

 railed off from another belonging to the neighbouring ward. 

 This yard I shut in with green palings, adorned it with a trellis, 

 bordered it with a thick bed of earth from a nursery, and even 

 contrived to have a grass plot. The earth I filled with flowers 

 and young trees. There was an Apple tree from which we 

 managed to get a pudding the second year. As to my flowers, 

 ■they were allowed to be perfect. A poet from Derbyshire 

 (Moore) told me he had seen no such Heartsease. Here I 

 "wrote and read in fine weather, sometimes under an awning. 

 In autumn my trellises were hung with Scarlet Eunners, which 

 added to the flowery investment. I used to shut my eyes in 

 my arm-chair, and affect to think myself hundreds of miles off. 

 But my triumph was in issuing fortti of a morning. A wicket 

 out of the garden led into the large one belonging to the prison. 

 The la'ter was only for vegetables, but it contained a Cherry 

 tree, which I twice saw in blossom." 



Than that we could have no more forcible illustration of the 

 truth told in the old cavalier verse — 



"Stone walls do not a prison make, 

 Nor iron bars a cage ; 

 Minds innocent and quiet Uike 

 These for a hermitage." 



The courts and alleys of the democratic portions of London 

 ore in eotne respects worse than prisons, yet gardening is not 

 banished even from them. 



We have often wondered what extent of cultivation these 

 minds, in the neglected parts of London, are capable of, that 

 display so much refinement in the assiduity with which they 

 nurse a wild Daisy, or Primrose, in a fractured teapot or ginger- 

 beer bottle. There is surely something more than the mere 

 animal development here. Our attention has been more imme- 

 diately directed to this subject, in consequence of the immense 

 quantities of the commoner flowers which are, at this season, 

 continually forced upon our observation, both in the markets, in 

 the streets, and on hawkers' trucks. The Primrose, DaiBy, 

 Wallflower, Polyanthus, and Southernwood, are among the moBt 

 popular ; and in almost every lane, alley, and court, may be seen 

 the various degrees of success with which these are kept in life. 

 It is not only in the dwellings of the poor, however, that we 

 have remarked this fondness for gardening. It would seem that 

 some, who, perhaps, have no dwelling at all, or such an one as 

 does not afford the facilities for indulging even this harmless 

 gratification, resort to other means ; and it was but the other 

 day we encountered, in our perigrinations, a well-cultivated and 

 fertile spot on the fore-deck of a coal-barge ! Who of our readers 

 would ever have dreamt of a flower-garden in such a spot ? Even 

 our assiduous friend, Mr. Beaton, with all his train of fair fol- 

 lowers, could never have thought of looking for a flower garden in 

 such a spot, and that, too, floating on the very bosom of old Father 

 Thames. And a very pretty garden it was. There were no cir- 

 cuitous walks, no ingenious devices, no grouping of colours ; but 

 there were some bright Anemones, of all colours ; Polyanthuses 

 with trusses as Polyanthuses never trussed before ; double lilac 

 Primroses ; Hen-and-chicken Daisies, eclipsing in interest the 

 finest poultry-yard of the greatest fanciers ; lumpB of Stonecrop, 

 trailing down the sides of old tin tankards ; " Bloody-walls," or 

 " Warriors," looking as gay as any officer of the household 

 guards ; " Daffydowndillies," as our ancestors called them, all 

 rich in beauty, and some replete with fragrance ; with here and 

 there bushes of grim Southernwood, and the whole artfully and 

 tastefully enclosed with an edging of the whitest of oyster- shells. 

 We have interesting sceneB in London which the rest of the 

 world know not of ; and such a scene as that now described is 

 more gratifying to us by far than the luxurious and ready-made 

 window decorations of Belgravia. 



There is one place yet where a novice might not expect to find 

 a love of plants lingering — the chamber where sickness has long 

 saddened, and in which death is looked to as a rescuer. Even 

 there the love of vegetable beauty, cultivated plants and their 

 associated memories, are still cherished. 



" During our late visit to the distressed districts," says the 

 editor of that excellent periodical, " The British Workman," "we 

 met (in a cottage in Wigan) with a pleasing illustration of the 

 value of a flower. Although the man and his wife were starving 



for food, and many articles 

 of furniture had been dis- 

 posed of for bread, we were 

 interested by seeing in the 

 window a beautiful plant. 



"On remarking, 'Ah, my 

 friends, I am glad to see 

 that you are fond of plants. 

 Be asBured that He who 

 cares for the flowers of the 

 field, and the birds of the 

 air, will not bo unmindful 

 cf you ; He will surely send 

 you help.' 



" ' Oh, yes, sir,' was the 



reply, ' we Bhould not like 



to part with that.' In 



further conversation, we 



found that the little plant 



was truly a comforter to 



the worthy couple in their 



distress and solitude. 



"Very similar is this case to that of the poor dying female, 



who was once found laid on a straw pallet in a garret ; not a 



single article of furniture in the room, but in the window stood 



a little plant. To the visitor she said, * As I have watched that 



little plant grow, I have been comforted with the assurance that 



God, who made it, cares for me.' 



" Fathers and mothers, train up your boys and girls in the 

 cultivation and love of plants. It will do good to them as well 

 as yourselves. Flowers are comforters ! " 



