December 17. iS 9 s - 



GARDENERS' MAGAZINE. 



811 



CHRISTMAS MIXTURE. 



sympathy ought to be with the wise young man. 

 improve himself? 



Is he not striving to 



i'V y&S 



* 



ft 



HAVE put you down," writes our Editor, "for a 

 Christmas Mixture. Do the best you can. You 



turn. 



Has he not read a paper stuffed with research (stuffed 

 so full that nothing could be got out of it) before the members of the 

 Claybury Gardeners' Mutual Improvement Association ? Yes these 

 things are true. Nevertheless, if I might, at this festive season be 

 allowed to whisper a word in his ear, I would say, M Don't make sawdust 

 have not prepared one for some years." Why, no. of knowledge. Keep it fresh and sweet and attractive. If, once in a way, 

 Now I think of it, the young people held the field there comes temptation to fling books aside and keep time with the 

 last year, and we old fogies had to retire into the cowman's^ fiddle, do not shrink from it in horror, but let Nature have her 

 background. By a little bit of topsy-turveydom, 

 only possible at Christmas time, the young men in 

 a certain garden were given authority, and the 

 chief and his local cronies had to do the sub- 

 ordinate work. This season we are given another 



I 



mm The editorial communique goes on : "I shall be glad of the copy at 

 vour earliest convenience, and I mention this because of the difficulty of ob- 

 taining copy up to time from some writers, even with a fair amount of 



Here, straight away, is a text for me. Numbers of young 



Older hands 



badgering." , . - , . 



writers long for enshnnement in type, but never get it. 



have the opening placed before them, and yet have to be prodded before 

 they take advantage of it. We hear every day about the difficulty of 

 young writers to get their wares accepted, and editors are stigmatised as 

 cold-blooded tyrants, rejoicing in the opportunities which they have of 

 lacerating tender flesh. It is nonsense, every bit of it. 



quality. 



there is "place and pay" waiting, 

 because their work is not good enough. 



If the young gardeners in this country were half wide awake they 

 would see that there are unexampled opportunities before them for Press 

 woik. I do not believe there is a single horticultural editor who would 

 not gladly welcome new blood on his staff, provided it was of the right 



As Blackwood said regarding George Eliot's maiden effort, 



Young writers do not make progress 



Its brevity is baldness, its 

 length is labour. Editors like brevity, but not baldness. They will 

 sometimes tolerate length, but never labour. I am not going to quote 

 names or make direct references, but I will say this— If anyone were 

 asked to count the really capable writers on the various gardening papers 

 he would surely be able to do it on the fingers of his hands. Yet think 

 of the miles of columns which have to be filled every year. This is not 

 well. I am aware that ideal gardening literature is difficult to produce. 

 It must have practical interest, professional accuracy, freshness of idea, 

 brightness of style, and perfect lucidity. But it could be produced if 

 only writers would study manfully enough, and keep always before them 

 the factors which go to make up the perfect article. 



But, dear, dear 



! Here am I being led away into fault-finding at 



Christmas time, when it is so much more seasonable to be shaking hands 

 with each other, and telling each other what jolly good fellows are we. 

 We'll throw criticism, like physic, to the dogs. r!, ~ - *~ ^' 



voice of Peter, raised in decorous revelry, 

 musical 



Far away sounds the 



The notes are not, perhaps, 

 , indeed, they bear a suspicious resemblance to the hooters of 

 the steam tugs on the Thames, but what they lack in melody they make 

 up in vigour. Peter is happy. He has 11 company," and I believe they 

 are celebrating an argumentative triumph which their host has won. I 

 listen, and this is the ear-haunting paean of victory which resounds :— 



The Song of the Onion. 



Peter— Down beyond the 'tatur rows, up against the peas, 



Not so very distant from the sprouts ; 

 (Easy there, the chorus ; steady, if you please ; 



When you see my signal start your shouts). 

 We trenched a bit o' loam, lads, made it pretty d*ep, 



Carted on the dung and dug it in, 

 (The master wanted chemicals, but you can let your heap 



Ch 



orus 



I argufied it quickly out of him). 



If you want some 'taturs, if you want some kale, 



If you want some onions, big and sound, 

 Drop along at Christmas (Lux will stand the ale), 

 Peter is the boy to bring 'em round. 



Peter — A coat beneath the second spit, a coat beneath the third 



(Some poor creeturs' satisfied with one), 

 Every bit o' subsoil broken up and stirred, 



Trenching here I tell you isn't fun. 

 On the top some wood ash, then a bit o' soot, 



That's the way we start to make the bed, 

 Afterwards there's firmiDg, I does it with my foot, 



Though others gets a heavy lump o' lead. 



Chorus— \{ you want some 'taturs, &c, &c. 



Peter — When it comes to sowing I take a box o' mould 



—A fortnight after Christmas is the time — 

 (Although some young beginners, leastways so I'm told 



Sows their seed six months ahead o' mine). 

 Plant 'em out in April, watching for the grub 



(Paraffin's the stuff to make it ill), 

 Get some farmyard liquor ready in a tub, 



And give it to the onions with a will. 



Chorus -11 you want some 'taturs, &c, &c. 



I am doubtful whether the reader wants any more of this. If I though* 

 j did I would keep on. So far I have counted thirteen verses, and Peter 

 |? still singing lustily. After all, a little music makes a change. From 

 to time preternaturally wise young men complain that the course of 



head, and go back to work again when it is all over freshened and 

 invigorated." 



I once knew a young gardener who was the solemnest of all solemn 

 prigs. That, it may be suggested, is saying a good deal, since prigs are 

 pretty numerous in horticultural circles ; nevertheless, I stick to it. ~~ 

 was a walking encyclopaedia of gardening knowledge, 

 at all points. 



He 



_ r He was armed 



It was a sight to see him when question time came after 

 one of his numerous papers had been read. The sleek, sedate air said 

 as plainly as possible, "roll them out, gentlemen, I am ready." He was, 

 I say, armed at all points— all save one. There proved to be a weak 

 point in his armour. It was not a horticultural one ; indeed it was 

 nothing more nor less than love. Let me digress for a moment to ask if 

 you ever saw a gardener in love? 

 approaches the sublime 

 edible presents 



His is no common passion. It 

 One phase of it is a predilection for making 

 his master's choicest peaches, for instance. 



. - - Peter was 



once in love, and he stopped short at nothing, not even at onions. With 



a wild and reckless generosity he gave away half the contents of my 

 garden. Fruit, flowers, and vegetables alike went, and I was not sorry 

 when the affair died a natural death in the lady's elopement with a joiner. 



Oar young gardener "read his paper" — made his proposal but 



when it came to question time he was utterly and irretrievably silenced 

 by a decided " No." She preferred the first journeyman (his own junior !) 

 because he was "nicer." Alas ! 



I wonder if anyone is so foolish as to consider the foregoing as an 

 attack upon study. Perhaps they do, because, as Lord Herschell re- 

 marked in his great speech on Anglo-American unity a few weeks ago, 

 stupid persons crop up everywhere, and no country has a monopoly of 

 them. If I were not so desperately determined to eliminate anything 

 which might be construed as unkind from this Mixture I might advance 

 the fact, and give proof of it, that there are a few rather silly persons in 

 gardening circles. However, I shall hope to be better understood by the 

 majority. I believe in study when it is natural, spontaneous, and whole- 

 some, but not when it is stilted and unhealthy. Mental alertness and 

 suppleness form a better equipment than solidity of the stodgy order. If 



I could only corrmand the rhyming facility of Peter I should be able to 



-ah I - - - 



express my meaning in verse, but, 



my worthy henchman's chant of 



triumph has ended at last, and it is succeeded by something very 

 different, carolled out in a sweet tenor voice which makes every word 

 sound clear : — 



Sing, love, of summer flowers, 



Fjr they are sweet ; 

 Swift is the rush of hours 



Here at your feet. 

 Day and its labour past, 

 Rest soothes us all at last, 

 Life's tide is flowing fast ; 



Yes, time is fleet. 



Shall I, in its small span, 



Stifle my soul ? 



Silence the glad £lan 



Which makes it whole ? 

 Nature, with tender sigh, 

 Spreads out her robe*, and I 

 Draw in devotion nigh, 



Glad of her dole. 



Empty the life of man, 



Arid the heart, 

 Who from her wondrous plan 



Ever shall part. 

 Tell me the tale anew, 

 Clarion the story true ; 

 I, if my days be few, 



Early must start. 



Teach me the lesson, then, 



Knowledge I crave ; 

 Work is the lot of men 



This side the grave. 

 But they with rev'rent eyes, 

 Gazing on fields and skies, 

 Slowly must learn to rise, 



Who pain would save. 



in 



Sweet your voice, 0 singer ; searching your philosophy. You tell us 

 those pure, rich notes, which come floating over the garden at this 



rk»L«*na«tide. the storv which Wordsworth told :— 



M To the solid ground of Nature 

 Trusts the mind that builds for aye. 



It is a lesson of life— one which we all must learn. Not alone does 

 knowledge lie in the solid fact of text-books, but in the hushed and 

 humble study of Nature's vast tome, the pages of which are myriad, the 

 wisdom profound, the truth imperishable. With the hope that every 

 eardener, young and old, may find in it a source of happiness and in- 

 spiration, L who am privileged to be the link between our good Editor, 



£S*£~* ^ smooth in the both, l.cause the chrysanthemum £E3S^iK C^K* 



•i,kV. ho . '?. c,eve r ™ ,h the flute > has .nvued m the cowman, who excels h s start, and the "» 8 contentment ind 



*jto the violin, and these two are' reinforced by the man from the orch ; ds, 

 n ose forte is the manipulation of a lugubrious tin whistle. Of course 



year by year, join hands all round in a prayer for contentment and 

 prosperity this Christmastide. Lux. 



