292 
THE FLORIST. 
only the comfort but the enjoyment of life. The poor man who sits 
down to his dinner from which Potatoes are absent, feels that it is a loss 
to him not to have them; his bit of bacon needs its Beans or Cabbage 
to make it more palatable (and more wholesome too) ; while the rich 
man feels that his Asparagus or Pine-apple whets an appetite that has 
not been excited by the natural stimulants of air and exercise; the 
village belle, who adorns her hair with the white Rose of her cottage 
garden, or the fair maiden who decks hers with the Camellia from the 
conservatory (I won’t say with what purpose they do it), show their 
love of flowers and acknowledgement of their power; and so again, 
know we not how grateful the cooling Grape is to the parched lips of 
the fevered patient, or the smell of the Rose or Jessamine to the conva¬ 
lescent. And whence have come all these? Walk along the beach 
from here to St. Margaret’s, and, growing out of the chalk, you will .see 
a plant with green glaucous foliage, about half a dozen large leaves, 
and a yellow flower. If you take one and boil it, you would not, I 
venture to say, desire to eat it a second time ; yet that is the parent 
from whence have sprung not only our Savoys and Early Yorks, but 
also our fine-headed Broccoli and Cauliflowers ; and a change so great 
as to make it almost incredible is simply the result of cultivation. 
The mealy and delicate flavoured Potato is a totally different thing from 
the waxy and bitter product of the wild one of Peru. The mountains 
of the Caucasus, the hedges of the Isle of Bourbon, or the plains of 
China, have been ransacked for the Rose. The Camellia has come from 
the far off isles of Japan; the Asparagus originally came from Asia; 
the Pine from the West Indies. And how comes it, then, that these 
are now within the reach of so many ? Entirely owing to the taste for 
gardening. And let it not be forgotten, amidst the insane cries that 
are sometimes made against the aristocracy of this country by those 
who, if ever they become possessed of means, are themselves far more 
exacting and far less liberal, that it is owing chiefly to the encourage¬ 
ment given by them to the pursuit of gardening that we are indebted 
for these things, now of such every day necessity to us. Collectors sent 
forth by them have gone into all countries, and have brought home 
everything that they thought worth collecting ; they have liberally paid 
their gardeners, encouraged them in their experiments, and the results 
are felt in every corner of the land. When, then, we recollect how 
many thousands of our countrymen depend almost entirely upon the 
Potato for food—what real enjoyment is derived by thousands from the 
contemplation of beautiful flowers—how useful in moderation fruit is 
for health—we are surely constrained to say that, as far as others 
are concerned, a taste for gardening is one conducive to the well-being 
of the community amongst whom we are placed. 
It is moreover one eminently serviceable to those who are themselves 
influenced by it. I speak not now of the professional gardener—of the 
man whose calling it is—but of those who follow it as a recreation ; 
who, having other occupations and business, go to their gardens, either 
before or after their business hours, for relaxation and amusement. 
And first let me say it is a healthful enjoyment: unlike painting, which 
is injurious to many—or music, which implies of necessity so much 
