January 5. 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
255 
of caged larks, for the slow liquidation of the debt of green 
fields due to them. There were also parrots ; for a largo 
number of the houses in those river streets were tenanted 
by sailors who brought birds from abroad. There were also 
all sorts of grotesque shells; and one house that receded 
from its neighbours’ had a small garden in front, which 
i was sown over with shells instead of flowers. The walks 
were bordered with shells instead of boxwood, and there 
were conches upon the wall instead of wall-bowers. The 
i summer-house was a grotto; but the great centre ornament 
was a largo figure-head, at the foot of which there was a 
bench erected, so that the owner sat under its shadow. It 
represented a man with a great heard, holding over his 
shoulder a large three-pronged fork; which George believed 
to be meant for Neptune. That was a poor garden, thought 
George ; for it never waved nor rustled, and did not by one 
change of feature—except that it grew daily dirtier—shew 
itself conscious of the passage of the hours and days, and 
months and seasons. 
“ It interested George a great deal more to notice here and 
there the dirty leaves of new kinds of plants; which, brought 
home among the sailors, struggled to grow from seed or 
root Through the window of one house that was very 
poor, but very neat and clean, he saw put upon a table to 
to catch the rays of summer sun, a strange plant in blossom. 
It had a reddish stalk, small-pointed leaves ; and from every 
cluster of leaves hung elegant red flower-bells with purple 
tongues. That plant excited him greatly; and, when he 
stooped to look in at it, he felt some such emotion as might 
stir an artist who should see a work by Rubens hung up in 
a pawnbroker’s shoe window. He knocked at the green 
door, and a pale-faced girl opened it, holding in one hand a 
piece of unfinished needlework. Her paleness left her for 
a minute when she saw it was a stranger who had knocked. 
Her blue eyes made George glance away from them before 
he had finished his respectful inquiry. ‘ I beg your pardon,’ 
he said, ‘but may I ask the name of the llower in the 
window, and where it came from ?’ 
“ * Will you walk in, if you please, sir,’ said the girl, 
‘ mother will tell you all she knows about it.’ 
“ With two steps the young gardener strode into the small 
front room where a sick and feeble woman sat in an arm 
chair. The room was clean and little furnished. There 
was only sand upon the boor; and, on the table with some 
more of the girl’s work, was part of a stale loaf, banked 
with two mugs that contained some exceedingly blue and 
limpid milk. George apologised for his intrusion ; hut said 
what his calling was, and pleaded in excuse tba great beauty 
and novelty of the plant that had attracted him. 
“ ‘ Ay, ay, but I prize it for more than that,’ said Mrs. Ellis, 
‘ it was brought to me by my son. He took it as a' cutting, 
and he brought it a long way, dear fellow, all the way from 
the West Indies, nursing it for me. Often he let his own 
lips parch, sir, on the voyage, that he might give water 
enough to the bower that he took home for his mother. 
He is a tender-hearted boy, my Harry.’ 
“ 4 He is young, then ? ’ 
‘“Well, he is not exactly a boy, sir; but they are all boys 
on board ship, you understand. He could carry off the 
house upon his back, Harry could; he is so wonderful 
broad-chested. He’s just gone a long voyage, sir, and I’m 
feard I shall be gone a longer before he comes back; and 
! he said when he went, ‘Take care of the plant, mother, it’ll 
I have hundreds of bells to ring when I come back to you 
next year.’ He is always full of his fun, sir, is my Harry.’ 
“‘Then ma’am,’ George stammered, ‘it is a plant you 
would’nt like"to part with.’ 
“ The poor woman looked angry for a moment; and then, 
after a pause, answered gently, ‘ No, sir, not until after my 
time comes.’ 
“The young gardener, who ought to have gone away, still 
bent over the bower. The plant was very beautiful, and 
; evidently stood the climate well, and it was of a kind to 
! propagate by slips. George did not well know what to say 
or do. The girl who had been nimbly stitching, ceased 
from work and looked up wonderingly at tho stranger, who 
had nothing more to say, and yet remained with them. At 
last, the young man, with the colour of the bower on his 
cheeks, said, ‘I’m a poor man, ma’am, and not much 
taught. If I’m going to say anything unbecoming, I hope 
you’ll forgive it; but if you could—if you could bring your 
heart to part with this plant, I would give you ten guineas 
for it, and tho first good cutting I raise shall be yours.’ 
“ The girl looked up in great astonishment, ‘ Ten guineas ! ’ 
she cried, ‘ why, mother, ten guineas would make you 
comfortable for the whole winter. How glad Harry will be ! ’ 
“Tho poor old woman trembled nervously; ‘Harry told 
me to keep it for his sake,’ she whispered to her daughter, 
who bent fondly over her. 
“ ‘ Does Harry love a bower better than your health and 
comfort ? ’ plead Harry’s sister. 
“ A long debate was carried on in low tones, while George 
Swayne endeavoured to look as though ho were a hundred 
miles off, listening to nothing. But the loving accents of 
the girl, debating with her mother tenderly, caused Mr. 
Swayne—a stout and truo hearted young fellow of twenty- 
five—to feel that there were certainly some new thoughts 
and sensations working in him. He considered it important 
to discover from her mother's manner of addressing her that 
the name of the young woman was Susan. When the old 
lady at last consented with a wish to George's offer, he placed 
ten guineas on the table beside the needlework, and only stole 
one glance at Susan, as he bade good-bye, and took the 
bower-pot away, promising again earnestly that he would 
bring back to them the first good cutting that took root. 
“ George Swayne, then, having the lawyers almost put out 
of his head, carried the plant home and duly busied him¬ 
self in his greenhouse, over the multiplication of his treasure. 
Months went by, during which the young gardener worked 
hard and eat sparingly. He had left to himself but five 
pounds for the general maintenance of his garden; more 
was needed, and that he had to pinch, as far as he dared, 
out of his humble food and other necessaries of existence. 
He had, however, nothing to regret. The cuttings of the 
bower-bells throve, and tb* thought of Susan was better 
to him than roast-beef. He did not again visit the widow’s 
house. He had no right to go there, until he went to 
redeem his promise. 
“ A year went by ; and when next July came George 
j Swayne’s garden and greenhouses were in the best condi- 
tron. The new plant had multiplied by slip3, and had 
thriven more than he could have expected. The best plant 
was set by until it should have reached the utmost perfection 
of blossoms to be carried in redemption of the promise made 
to widow Ellis. In some vague way, too, Mr. Swayne now 
and then pondered whether the hells it was to set ringing 
after Harry had returned might not be after all the bells of 
Stepney parish-church.—And Susan Swayne did sound well, 
that was certain. Not that he thought of marrying the pale 
girl, whose blue eyes he had only seen, and whose soft voice 
he had only heard once; hut he was a young fellow and 
he thought about her, and young fellows have their fancies, 
which do now and then shoot in unaccountable directions. 
“ A desired event had happened one morning. The best 
customer of Swayne’s nursery grounds, the wife of a city 
knight, Lady Salter, who had a fine seat in the neighbour¬ 
hood, alighted from her carriage at the garden gate. She 
had come to buy bowers for the decorations of her annual 
grand summer party; and George, with much perturbation, 
ushered her into his greenhouse, which was glowing with 
the crimson and purple blossoms of his new plant. When 
Lady Salter had her admiration duly heightened by the 
information that there were no other plants in the country 
like them; that, in fact, Mr. Swayne’s new bowers were 
unique, she instantly bought two slips at a guinea each, and 
took them home in triumph. Of course, the bower-bells 
attracted the attention of her guests, and of course, she was 
very proud to draw the attention to them. Tho result was 
that the carriages of the great people of the neighbourhood 
so clogged up the road at Swayne’s nursery, day after day, 
that there was no getting by them. George sold for a 
guinea each all the slips he had potted, keeping only the 
continuance of his trade, and carefully reserving his finest 
specimen. That in due time he took to Harry’s mother. 
“ The ten guineas, added to the produce of Susan's labour— 
she had not slacked it a jot—bad maintained the sickly 
woman through the winter; and, when there came to her a 
letter, one morning in July, in Harry’s dear scrawl, posted 
from Portsmouth, she was half restored to health. He 
would he with them in a day or two, he said. The two 
