THE CHARM OF GARDENS 



" So you read Browning," I said. 



" I have a garret and a library," he said. " Winter 

 quarters. We shall meet one day, and you'll be surprised. 

 I actually possess two dress suits. It's a mad world." 

 He stopped abruptly to listen to the thrush. " This is 

 better than the Carlton or Delmonico's, anyhow ! " 



" What do you do ? " I asked. " Go from village to 

 village selling herbs ? " 



" That's about it. Lord ! Listen to that bird. I 

 heard and saw a nightingale sing once in a shaw near 

 Ewelme. I think a thrush is the better musician, though. 

 Yes, I sell my herbs, all sorts and kinds. Drugs and 

 ointments, very simple I assure you — Hemlock and 

 Poppy to cure the toothache. Wood Sorrel — full of 

 oxalic acid, you know, like Rhubarb — for fevers. Aconite 

 for rheumatics — very popular medicine I make of that, 

 sells like hot cakes in water meadow land, so does 

 Agrimony for Fen ague. Tansy and Camomile for liver 

 — excellent. Hellebore for blisters, and Cowslip pips 

 for measles — I'm a regular quack, you see." 



" And it's worth doing, is it ? " 

 He leaned back, his pipe between his lips, a very 

 contented man. " Worth doing ! " he said. " Worth 

 owning England, with all the wonderful mornings, and 

 the clean air ; worth waking up to the scent of Violets ; 

 worth lying on your back near a Bean field on a summer 

 day ; worth seeing the Bracken fronds uncurl ; watching 

 kingfishers ; worth having the fields and hedgerows for a 

 garden, full of flowers always — I should think so. I 

 earn my bread, and I'm happy, far happier than most 

 men. I can lend a hand at haymaking, at the harvest ; 

 at sheep-shearing, at the cider press, at hoeing, when 

 I'm tired of my own company. I've worked the seines 

 in the mackerel season on the South coast — do you 

 know the bend of shore by Lyme and Charmouth ? 



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