THE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN’S COMPANION— September 2. 1856. 401 
been steady, he would have been well provided for. He was 
not steady; he grew up idle, prone to drink, ready for any 
mischief, and disinclined to any good thing. lie was not 
able to do much work on account of his loss; but he was 
placed in the village school with a stipend—for he was a 
“good scholar"—and that was an employment he could 
compass with ease. But, alas! he could not be quiet; be 
was begged off once when in disgrace; but the sinful habit 
of drinking overpowered him, and he very soon lost his 
place. A kind and charitable lady befriended him os much 
ns she could, out of compassion to his helpless condition, 
but she was obliged to give him up also, he was so idle, 
disorderly, and drunken. Jonathan Wild was sure to be in 
the midst of any mischief, and his name was up for poaching, 
too. Pie had a poor old father, to whom he was very violent; 
in short, there was scarcely any evil that could not be laid 
at his door; and ho looked ruffianly and wretched. At last 
his poor old father was removed.to the Union, and his cot¬ 
tage taken for another tenant. This was a severe blow to 
Jonathan, for he now bad no home but the village street; 
and in wet and cold weather that was a comfortless retreat. 
At length he was permitted to sleep in the stable belonging 
to a public-house. It was a dirty, cold, windy place, but it 
was better than the street, and to that dangerous neighbour¬ 
hood he retired at night. Year after year passed in idleness 
and sin. Sometimes be was employed to go errands, dig in the 
fields (which he learned to do expertly), and earn a trifle now 
and then. This preserved him from actual starvation; but 
his employers too often paid him in beer, which not only 
ministered to his vice, but kept him hungry and ill clothed, 
and he looked the most degraded, squalid object in the 
whole parish. 
It was like life to poor Jonathan when he first ventured 
into the soup-kitchen, and purchased a basin of warm soup. 
The Christian feeling of the poor widow made her kindly 
and courteous to all, and she asked him to eat it by the fire; 
for he was almost perished, and deep snow drifted in after 
him, driven by a fierce east wind. From this hour Jona¬ 
than’s few penco were spent wholly on soup. Twice in the 
day, whenever he could earn a penny or two, he was by the 
warm fireside enjoying what was to him a new existence, 
and hearing at the same time close and practical instruction 
from the widow’s lips. Tears would frequently roll down 
his cheeks as she “ reproved, rebuked, exhorted," and drove 
truths of startling power home to his conscience. Still he 
came. Day after day, during that severe seasou, was Jona¬ 
than seated quietly by the great black pot. He was a man 
of remarkably few words, and of very respectful demeanour 
at all times where the fair sex was concerned ; so that the 
widow met with no rude or improper language, and, in fact, 
had it all her own way. Deprived of her own children, her 
loving heart turned tenderly towards the homeless outcast 
that sat and listened to her unflinching truthfulness. Her 
heart yearned towards him ; and when the soup concern 
closed she still allowed him to make her cottage his daily 
refuge, took to mend one poor tattered shirt, while he wore 
the other, and washed his things, to make him look a little 
more like a human being. It was sad uphill work to the 
aged widow. His evil ways were so deeply rooted that her 
spirit often fainted within her. Several times she closed her 
door against him, till his repentant pleadings overcame 
her. “ Granny,” he has said, “ I have no one to take care 
of me but you. If you give me up, you ’ll see the end 
of me.” 
Within the last few months, how 7 ever, the fruit has ap¬ 
peared—small, but hopeful. Some ladies had taken an 
•interest in poor Jonathan since the widow adopted him, and, 
when they could, employed him. They encouraged him by 
words and deeds, and he had a heart, in spite of beer and 
recklessness. The widow ploughed up the soil, and put in 
goodly seed. This is too often left undone in similar cases. 
Friends urge, and encourage, and persuade; but there, is a 
deeper work still, and that work the poor widow understood 
and executed. She dug deep, and showed him the abomi- j 
nations that lay hidden within him, and the unsullied purity 
of Him with whom he had to do. Jonathan is not ignorant, 
and knows “ Granny” is speaking truth. He cleaves to her 
in spite of her lectures and rebukes, and is as a son to her. 
For many weeks now he has changed his babits. tie is not 
lounging so often at the idle comer; he has not once been 
drunk ; and on the day of the Peace rejoicings, when the 
widow’s heart quailed at his going to the town, he returned in 
perfect sobriety. Articles of clothing have from time to time 
been given him, which his second mother patches, repairs, 
and washes ; so, when sent on an errand now, he looks clean 
and well dressed—so different from what he was only fifteen 
months ago 1 
The poor widow’s mite is shared with this poor fellow, 
i She gives him part of her scanty meals, and when he earns 
I a trifle—for he is really hardworking and willing—he lays it 
! at her feet. The poor widow’s principal care for him is his 
I sleeping apartment—a wretched stable ! The straw is taken 
1 away, besides, so that the hard ground is his bed, and his 
poor bones ache severely. He has a thin blanket to wrap 
j himself in, and that is all. The widow “ reads the law” to 
him, as she says, and places before him his sins, and their 
just punishment. She leads him to mark that he himself 
threw away great advantages; that “he sowed the wind,” 
and isnowjustly “ reaping the whirlwind;” and that though 
he may turn sincerely to the keeping of God’s command¬ 
ments, yet the consequences of sin long follow at our heels, 
: and we must humble ourselves beneath the wholesome 
1 chastening. 
Readers, I could scribble on much longer about poor 
Jonathan and the widow woman, who has been bidden by 
the Lord to sustain him, but my space is filled up. Take 
warning by him; take courage towards your “day of small 
things ;’’ very large things may spring from it. If one soul 
is snatched from destruction, who can count the blessings? 
It may be the day of //reat things ! You shall hear again of 
the widow’s adopted son, of all his sufferings and privations, 
and, I trust, of the complete conversion of his heart to God. 
Reader ! think upon these things. 
NOTES FROM PARIS. 
The distribution of prizes awarded to the young Art- 
Students of the third arrondissement took place about a week 
ago in the Jardin d'Hirer of the Champs Elysees, and as I 
! was kindly furnished with a card of invitation, I had an 
I opportunity of witnessing the interesting ceremony, and 
: examining the vegetable productions of the establishment, 
, which, indeed, has been in existence for several years, and 
I may be compared to a large conservatory like that in the 
Regent’s Park. The mode of heating in winter is by liot- 
water pipes carried all round the house in the floor at the 
I margin of the walk. The glass gradually rises from the 
bottom to a central line in the roof, which, at the outside, 
has a gangway the. whole length, for the convenience of the 
i workmen who have to look to the shading during the hot, 
! sunny weather. 
The arrangements of the ground have been carried out 
with much taste. There is a handsome fountain and basin 
with gold fish near the upper end, and, quite at the extremity, 
a series of broad steps, over which the water, when it is let 
on, falls gushingly to the bottom, in imitation, no doubt, of 
the original contrivance, oil a much larger scale, at St. 
Cloud. 
This conservatory contains one of the best examples of 
the Norfolk Island Pine ( Araucaria excclsa ) which I have 
seen. It has, indeed, grown too high for the roof, which is, 
1 perhaps, thirty-five feet in height, and an opening has been 
made in the glass for its top shoot, which is now some ten 
or fifteen inches in the open air. This is really a fine, 
handsome tree, with the lower branches bending gracefully 
downwards, and very regular all round. In the reserve 
grounds there are numerous large and luxuriant specimens 
of this beautiful Pine, but none of them are more than half 
the size of that in question. 
Next to the Araucaria may be mentioned a magnificent 
Pandanus odoratissimus, about fourteen feet through. The 
Pandanus seems to be a favourite among plant-growers on 
the Continent, for it is to be found in almost every col¬ 
lection; yet it is really a touchy neighbour in a house, and 
must be kept ns far from the pathways as possible. Phoenix 
dactylifera is seldom far off where you see the Pandanus. In 
the present instance, there are one or two specimens of it 
about twenty feet high. There are also several examples ot 
