THE CHELSEA “ PHYSICKE GARDEN ” 
Apothecaries’ Society, who himself told the story. He described 
the appearance of Thomas Wheeler ; how he sat on the box beside 
the driver in the best of spirits, his hat off, his thin, light hair 
blowing about his face, and his large spectacles on his nose, alter- 
nately laughing and chatting with the coachman, and diving into 
his hat with his huge pocket-knife, to separate and examine a 
bundle of wild plants. Such a figure naturally attracted attention 
along the road, and, stopping at a turnpike gate, the party 
was rather surprised by the evident interest and eagerness of the 
toll-keeper, as he scratched his head, and, pointing to Mr. Wheeler, 
exclaimed in his blunt Kentish dialect: ‘‘So ye ha’ got him at 
last !’? This was incomprehensible to all until they arrived at 
a small inn close to the parish of Barming, where they read a 
placard offering a reward for an escaped lunatic. 
With the death of Thomas Wheeler a notable figure was removed 
from the old Chelsea garden, and since that time popular concern 
for its fortunes has not been stimulated, as in his day, by anecdotes 
of its later professors and curators. 
Up to 1899 the Apothecaries still retained possession, and under 
their control I imagine that the arrangement for the growing of 
plants, described by Field and Simple in 1878, still obtained. Any- 
one at that period entering the garden by the gate in Swan Lane, 
and proceeding down the gravel walk facing it, till he reached the 
point at which another path crosses it at right angles, a point marked 
by the statue of Sir Hans Sloan, would have found the ground on 
his right given up to the culture of medicinal herbs, and that 
on his left hand, to hardy herbaceous plants arranged according 
to their natural orders. 
At the present day a casual observer might suppose this place 
still adhered to, but it is not so; the plants, it is true, are still 
arranged according to their natural orders, but no simples what- 
ever are grown here now, for the garden is no longer under the 
Apothecaries’ management. It retains nevertheless something of 
its unique character among the gardens of the metropolis; even 
without the four famous cedars that once upon a time must have 
given it great distinction—and although the Thames that formerly 
washed its northern wall (and on the occasion of a very high 
tide in 1774 rose fifteen inches within it) is now separated from 
it by the width of the Embankment. The flower beds are 
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