January 7, 1886. ] 
JOURNAL OF HORTICULTURE AND COTTAGE GARDENER. 
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7 
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Royal Society at 4.30 p.m. 
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Quekett Club at 8 p.m. 
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Royal Botanic Society at 3.45 P.M. 
SUN 
1st Sunday after Epiphany. 
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12 
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Royal Horticultural Society—Fruit and Floral Committees at 11 a.m. 
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Society of Arts at 8 P.M. 
A NEW YEAR’S GREETING. 
HERE are some distinctions which are eagerly 
coveted. To have a handle to one’s name or a 
string of letters after it; to be a reigning beauty 
or a distinguished wit; to have plenty of filthy 
lucre, even in Scotch notes—are all things 
which create envy towards their possessor. On 
the other hand, there are distinctions which 
people may wear without their neighbours in 
the least degree breaking the tenth command¬ 
ment because of them. To be the “ ugly duck ” of the family ; 
to be a poor baronet without a sixpence to call it his own ; or 
to be the “ oldest inhabitant,” however respected, of the 
town, are things which most think their possessors are quite 
welcome to have; and as I feel convinced that the honour of 
addressing a few words of greeting to the readers of the 
Journal has been given to me for the simple reason that I 
am one of the oldest, if not the very oldest, contributor to its 
pages left. It is twenty-five years since I first entrusted my 
desultory thoughts to its pages. I do not think that I shall 
be envied the privilege, although some remembering the wise 
and wholesome words which have been addressed to them in 
former years by otber and abler hands will be inclined to say, 
“ Evidently in his dotage. Why didn’t our Doctor get some 
fresher hand to write to us ? ” but as the duty has been given 
to me I must perforce do what I can. When I said to the 
Doctor, “ I will do the best I can.” “ Of course you will,” 
was his reply ; “ we expect that.” I doubt not the verdict 
will be, “ Bad at the best.” 
And is not the first word of greeting due to the Journal 
itself ? I have been lately looking through in the library of 
the Horticultural Club some of the very earliest volumes of 
the Cottage Gardener when the Journal was in its babyhood. 
I can’t say its long clothes (for the pages were so small) and 
as I looked at the later volumes I could not but feel how 
great had been its progress since those days. But not only 
so. It has had children born to it, and these seem to share 
the vigour of its parent in the race for distinction. In the 
competition which it has had to meet with it has more than 
held its own. Contributors have passed away, honoured 
signatures are no more to be found to its papers, new ones 
have taken their place; but I do not think that anyone can 
say it has deteriorated. It still retains its thoroughly prac¬ 
tical character ; it is still the journal to which more especially 
the amateur delights to turn for information, rarely to be 
disappointed. It still retains that friendly, brotherly charac¬ 
ter which it has so long held, and should an intruder attempt 
to disturb this friendly feeling of our family party he is very 
soon told “ You can't lodge here.” Bearing all these things 
in mind surely our first greetings are due to the Journal and 
its accomplished and genial Editor. May both have a pro¬ 
sperous and happy new year, and in a real sense “ May this 
be as the last, and much more abundant.” 
To the contributors to its pages I would also send my 
greetings of well-wishing. Many of them occupy the places 
which have been worthily filled by men earnest in their call- 
No. 289. — Vol. XII., Third Series. 
ing—men who were distinguished among many things for 
their modesty. True knowledge always makes a man dis¬ 
trustful of himself ; a little puffs him up. Some years ago 
I was talking with a medical man on the treatment of a par¬ 
ticular disease. He said something which startled me ; but 
I said, “ Doctor, I thought nothing was more certain that 
in such a disease these things would be injurious.” “ When 
I was young,” he said, “ I thought that I knew everything. 
After thirty years’ experience I began to feel that I knew 
nothing.” The man who in this spirit tells us his thoughts is 
more likely to be a true instructor, and I rejoice to think there 
are many such. They feel that they have a very large clientele 
amongst all classes of the community, and are careful not to 
advance doubtful matters, or to lead others astray by advo¬ 
cating false theories or unsound practice. To you, my friends, 
I send my brotherly greeting. Pardon one who contributed 
to its pages before you entered on this changing scene, if he 
ventures in giving you all hearty wishes for your welfare and 
happiness in the new year to say, Remember your respon¬ 
sibilities as teachers of others, and be not will-o’-the-wisps, 
but true lights. 
And what shall I say to the readers of the Journal, so 
varied in their character, so widely scattered in their habita¬ 
tions, so diverse in the gardens which they possess ? I can¬ 
not perhaps do better than draw a moral from my own past 
experience. I have for half a century or more loved flowers. 
I have cultivated them sometimes under much difficulty 
—sometimes, as now, in more easy circumstances. I have 
had arduous posts to fill, and have had my share of the 
troubles and sorrows that are our assured portion here; but 
I can fearlessly say that among the things which have helped 
me and enabled to take a right view of things few have been 
of greater service to me than my love of flowers. Many of 
my most cherished friendships have originated through it; 
many of my pleasantest hours have been spent with those 
who have had a common interest with me iu that love; in 
days when the head has been overtaxed, to throw work on 
one side, and to go into one’s garden, dismissing for a while 
more serious matters, or in days of trouble to find the flowers 
speaking to us of that love and goodness which has made 
our earth so full of beauty, bearing withal its marks of decay 
to remind us of those realms into which decay never enters. 
All these make me say to the readers of the Journal, Cherish 
your love of a garden. Oh ! how many are the advan¬ 
tages we possess now to what we did fifty years ago ! Then 
greenhouses were only the luxury of the wealthy, whereas now 
they are almost the necessity of every lover of a garden. See 
ho w the world has been ransacked during the last half century to 
provide for our gardens, and think yourselves fortunate that 
so many are catering for your benefit, and placing such treasures 
within your reach. Let me give one word of caution—Do 
not attempt things which either your circumstances or your 
locality will not permit you to do thoroughly. When I see 
anyone in a smoky locality attempting to grow Roses, or 
another attempting to grow Rhododendrons on chalk, I pity 
the misdirected energy which must result in failure. Attempt 
what is possible, not what is impracticable, and don’t get 
beyond your depth. It is possible even with flowers to do 
this, and it can only be a worry instead of a pleasure. Why 
turn your honey into gall ? Why make what is intended 
for your happiness be an occasion of falling ? 
A good deal has been said of late about honours to hor¬ 
ticulture. Some have written with a high sense of virtuous 
repudiation who would be amongst the first to welcome them 
if proffered to them; and others have thought it would be 
well that they should be given to them as well as to other 
callings. I think we may leave such matters to settle them¬ 
selves. It is a happy thing in our dear land that while 
titles are not treated with the assumed contempt they are 
in some countries, a man is never less esteemed of because 
he lacks them. 
And now as we look forward into that coming year of 
No. 1945.— Vol, LXXIY., Old Series. 
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