JULY. 
151 
tion on gardening, and, in general, this is accurately conveyed, the aim of 
the author being apparently to inculcate habits of perseverance and honest 
industry, which he does with all the grace and energy of his simple, clear, 
and fascinating style. 
The hero, George Able, the son of a market gardener, is sixteen years 
of age at the opening of the tale. His father’s garden, consisting of one 
acre only, is situate on the Surrey side of the Thames, and is adapted to 
the growth of early vegetables, which had afforded the Abies a decent live¬ 
lihood for at least two generations. But the rapid rise of buildings closed 
them in on every side, and, notwithstanding their utmost efforts, their 
vegetables refused to grow as of old, while the facilities of transit by rail¬ 
ways from distant and more favoured localities reduced the prices of their 
produce, so that they found their income gradually diminishing. To make 
matters ’worse, a new railway takes from them three-fourths of their acre 
of ground, which they hold only as yearly tenants, and for which, conse- 
quentty, they can claim but small compensation. At length poverty fairly 
stares the worthy family in the face, when an idea strikes George’s mother 
that he might build a small greenhouse with some old bricks and posts that 
had long lain unused on the ground. Old Able is almost prostrated by his 
misfortunes ; but George sets to work, manages to buy the glass, receives a 
liberal supply of cuttings from old friends of his father, and grows a house 
full of “ bedding plants.” Our first extract will serve to show that, unlike 
many youths of this age, George “ calculated,” and this habit of mind, no 
doubt, contributed largely to his ultimate success :— 
“1 calculated that, if everything went on prosperously, the most I cordd expect, in the 
shape of return for the outlay and labour, would he from a few ‘bedding-out plants’ rather 
late in the spring, for I had no doubt, well-known and respected as my father was, he would 
obtain plenty of cuttings for me for nothing, when he went round among his friends, for no 
class of men are kinder to one another than gardeners, or readier to help e&ch other to a 
iob of work.” 
j « 
Sister Jane, who was an invalid, and compelled to lie down almost con¬ 
stantly through suffering from a spinal complaint, not only sympathised 
with and counselled our hero, but also lent him material aid in preparing 
cuttings, which her nimble fingers enabled her to do much more quickly 
than he could. As George’s small greenhouse did not wholly occupy his 
time, he wisely thought he might try to earn a few shillings elsewhere, 
which, while it did not prevent attention to his home duties and the develop¬ 
ment of his plans, gave him what the industrious mind delights in—con¬ 
stant and useful employment. To this end, he undertakes to teach garden¬ 
ing to boys in a reformatory. 
% 
“ The boys tried me very sorely for the first few days ; but when they found I never 
lost my temper, nor reported them, as I threatened to do, if they did not be more attentive 
and behave better—yet never fulfilled my threat, they said, ‘ I was a good sort, and no 
gammon,’ and I was soon able to do anything I pleased with them, for I began in the first 
instance by selecting them myself, for the head gardener had long known my father. * * * 
The first one I selected was an impudent-looking little rascal, who was ‘ taking a sight ’ at 
me with the end of his thumb to his nose, and his four little fingers expanded; but there 
was such an expression of good-humour in his roguish face, that I picked him out at once, 
while he blushed as if ashamed at what he had done. * * * * The second was a sturdy 
determined-looking little fellow, who was taken red-handed with a lump of bacon he had 
snatched from off the open window shelf, where it was exposed, as if to tempt him, and who 
offered no other defence than that ‘ he was hungry, and thought it would he jolly to have a 
frizzle, as he had got some “ toke.” ’ His father was transported for felony. I picked him 
out because he looked me full in the eye, and a smile lighted up his firm, square face as I 
placed him beside his companion. The third I picked out was a gipsy boy, and had lived 
iu tents. He was a swarthy little scoundrel, and the expression of his dark eyes was like 
