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JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER. 
February  17,  1898. 
The  National  Chrysanthemum  Society. 
We  are  now  very  near  to  this  Society’s  annual  members’  meeting. 
Very  much  hinges  on  that  meeting.  Until  there  is  a  great  rise  in  the 
intellectual  and  social  status  of  the  Committee,  it  is  rightly  felt  that  the 
Society  must  remain,  as  at  present,  a  mere  accessory  to  the  Westminster 
Aquarium.  That  is  indeed  a  most  deplorable  position  for  a  Society  that 
aspires  to  be  regarded  as  National  to  occupy.  The  present  executive  is 
too  much  of  the  earth — earthy.  It  represents  far  too  much  for  the  good 
of  the  Chrysanthemum,  either  mere  trade  or  exhibiting  interests,  and  so 
far  as  the  trade  is  concerned  also  by  selling  space  incites  unfortunate 
jealousies.  It  is  still  farther  much  too  large  a  body  to  be  productive  of 
good.  At  present  it  is  the  slave  of  wire  pullers.  Will  the  annual  meeting 
do  anything  to  improve  this  state  of  things,  or  will  the  members  be  but  of 
the  same  clay  as  their  representatives  1  No  doubt  it  is  in  this  direction 
the  Aquarium  advocates  look  for  salvation.  If  the  members  resolve  to 
clear  out  of  the  Committee  all  retiring  members  who  will  not  declare 
against  the  Aquarium,  and  put  into  their  places  men  who  will  so 
declare,  they  will  perform  great,  good  service.  Still  farther,  they 
should,  if  it  be  their  desire,  carry  a  resolution  calling  upon  the  executive 
to  close  their  connection  with  the  Aquarium  at  the  end  of  the  present 
year.  If  not  prepared  to  adopt  such  action  as  this,  then  best  leave  the 
matter  alone,  and  admit  that  protests  are  but  fizzles.  Members  must  be 
firm  and  independent  if  they  will  not  be  sat  upon  and  dragged  by  the  tail 
that  wags  the  dog. — K. 
A  GAEDEN  DEAMA. 
I  HAVE  had  a  mysterious  communication.  It  is  couched  in  the 
form  of  a  play.  What  worries  me  is  its  ambiguity.  In  the  hope  that 
some  sympathetic  friend  will  be  able  to  read  the  enigma  for  me  I  give 
this  puzzling  drama  (which  is  short)  in  its  entirety.  Communications 
of  an  elucidatory  nature  may  be  addressed  to  me,  care  of  the  Editor,  who 
will  forward  them  at  once. 
“MUM’S  THE  WORD.”— A  PLAY  IN  THREE  ACTS. 
ACT  I. 
Scene. — A  secluded  glade  in  Euphorbia  Park. 
(^Enter  CLOAKED  CONSPIRATORS). 
1st  Conspirator  :  My  stature’s  short,  but  my  determination’s  great 
^  This  enterprise  to  further.  A  thousand  stalwarts — 
2nd  Conspirator  ;  More,  man  I — of  MAN-like  action  ! 
1st  Conspirator  ;  Ay,  such,  indeed.  But  soft  !  thy  meaning  I 
perceive.  More  MEN  1  want. 
A  thousand  stalwarts,  thou  wouldst  say,  and  more 
Support  me.  ’Neath  the  heel  of  trading  syndicate 
The  Golden  Flower  of  Liberty  is  crushed. 
3rd  Conspirator  :  Shea-me  !  And  sham^  it  is. 
1st  Conspirator  :  Alas  !  ’tis  true.  Her  devotees  foregather 
In  clain’rous,  misty  halls,  where  fighters  reign. 
Where  acrobats,  performing  dogs  and  serios  shrill 
Their  antics  do  perform.  Shall  this  thing  be  ?- 
All  : — No  ! 
1st  Conspirator;  Amen  to  that.  Downward  the  glove  is  thrown 
And  I  the  challenger.  Now  the  time  approaches 
When  battle  must  be  given.  Neither  knight 
Nor  cleric  militant  shall  turn  me  from  my  purpose. 
My  blade  is  whetted.  Sword  of  belted  earl, 
Mace  of  bishop  or  of  dean — • 
2nd  Conspirator  :  Pardon  the  interruption,  saidst  thou  dean  ? 
1st  Conspirator  :  Ay,  dean  or  bishop,  earl  or  duke,  must  fall 
If  in  the  path  of  progress  he  should  stand. 
I’ll  take  no  nay.  The  Flower  of  Liberty 
I’ll  raise  aloft,  and  beneath — soft,  give  me  your  ears — 
I’ll  build  a  treasure  house  for  the  Reserve. 
Say  I  well  ? 
All  (^hnpressively')  :  Excellently  well. 
1st  Conspirator  :  Good  I  Now  if  success  shall  crown  us  we  must 
hasten 
Our  plans  to  make.  We  must  be  circumspect. 
Our  goings  and  our  comings  must — 
4th  Conspirator  {starting')  :  Ah  !  What  sound  was  that  I 
1st  Conspirator:  Peace,  pale  friend,  I  name  no  names,  now  gather 
round 
And  hearken.  {Left  conspiring.) 
ACT  II. 
Scene.— TAe  Royal  Piscatorium. 
{Iwo  men  are  conversing .) 
1st  Pisca-toreADOR  :  Patience!  sayst  thou?  Patience!  and  I  thus 
bearded ! 
2nd  PiscA-toreador  ;  Why,  ay  ;  patience  is  what  I  said.  Look  you  — 
1st  Pisca-toreador  :  I  will  not.  Shall  I  meekly  bend,  in  my  ripe 
wisdom, 
To  insolent  criticism  ?  What,  forsooth,  am  I 
That  I  should  3'ield  to  clamour  ? 
2nd  Pisca-toreador  {drily)  :  What  art  thou  ?  Whj',  a  secretary. 
1st  Pisca-toreador  {proudly)  :  -  Nay,  a  dictator  !  Honorary,  please. 
Obedience  I  claim  and  will  enforce 
To  my  behests.  Should  they  dare  breathe  defiance 
I  will  hurl  a  threat  of  resignation. 
2ND  Pisca-toreador  :  Patience,  I  say.  What  if  they  accept  it? 
1  ST  Pisca-toreador  {uneasily)  :  Accept  it ! 
2nd  Pisca-toreador  :  Ay  !  What  then  ? 
1st  Pisca-toreador  :  Accept  my  resignation!  Part  with  me!  ’Tis 
monstrous 
Such  thought  to  entertain.  Nevertheless,  now  I  think  on’t 
I  will  discretion  summon  ;  for  I  have  heard  a  whisper 
That  impious  minds  are  plotting  my  defeat. 
ACT  III. 
Scene. — A  room  at  the  Handy-Andy  Hotel. 
Conspirators,  Pisca-toreadors,  Gardeners,  Journalists,  &c 
1st  Pisca-toreador  ;  By  favour  of  this  meeting  a  report  I’ll  read 
Of  wondrous  progress  made  in  this  our  work. 
Two  score  years  ago  and  more  an  inn  obscure 
Our  habitation  was.  The  golden  flower  languished. 
Cold-favoured  by  the  public.  But  time  has  passed 
And  wondrous  transformation  has  had  place. 
A  strong  hand  led  us  on  our  devious  way 
To  fortune.  When  cold  in  death  that  warrior  lay 
His  task  devolved  on  me.  Have  I  performed  it  well  ? 
{Conspirators  whisper  together.) 
1st  Pisca-toreador  {pleadingly)  :  Survey  the  glorious  page  of  this  our 
history. 
The  numbers  of  our  army,  its  equipment. 
Some  there  are  who  do  contend  the  price  of  triumph 
Is  too  great.  They  say  we  are  no  army,  but  a  rabble 
Driven  to  dark  halls  for  our  exhibitions,  — 
Bound  hand  and  foot  to  entertainers  of  the  fickle  crowd 
To  whom  we  are  a  yielding  and  ignoble  tool. 
Conspirators  :  Ay,  ’tis  true. 
1st  Pisca-toreador  :  Nay,  ’tis  false.  None  but  I  know  the  truth. 
None  so  well  as  I  appreciate  the  sacrifices 
Made  on  our  behalf. 
Conspirators  :  For  dividends. 
1st  Pisca-toreador  {horrified)  :  Dividends  !  Ah  !  drive  that  loath¬ 
some  word  away. 
’Tis  on  philanthropy  we  take  our  stand,  that 
And  nought  else.  Are  there  in  circles  horticultural 
Souls  so  base  as  to  imagine  that  our  union 
Is  one  of  gold  ? 
1ST  Conspirator  :  Do  you  resign  ? 
1st  Pisca-toreador  {evasively)  :  Resign  ?  Who  spoke  of  resignation  ? 
The  word  is  strange 
And  unfamiliar. 
1st  Conspirator  {ironically)  :  Welcome  the  coming,  speed  the  parting 
guest. 
1st  Pisca-toreador  :  I  read  not  riddles.  My  words  are  plain. 
I  ST  Conspirator  :  Quite  plain.  You  spoke  of  private  knowledge 
And  of  resignation.  Friends,  I  make  a  proposition. 
Our  officers  keep  information  from  us,  give  us  threats. 
Let’s  change  our  officers.  I  have  supporters  here 
A  solid  phalanx,  sworn  to  give  me  help 
In  this  emergency.  Give  signs,  I  pray  you. 
That  we  are  resolute  to  have  our  will.  {None  move.) 
1st  Pisca-toreador  {in  triumphant  aside)  :  The  big  braves  hang 
back 
Now  that  the  crucial  hour  has  come.  I  win  ! 
The  day  is  mine.  (Hums  away  elated)  :  What  a  pack  of  fine 
fellows  they  are  !  Tra-la  ! 
1st  Conspirator  {bitterly)  ;  And  am  I  thus  deserted  in  my  hour  of 
•  need  ? 
Am  I  indeed  left  to  bear  the  brunt  of  battle 
Alone?  Is  this  shame  possible?  Alas!  in  olden  time 
I  have  the  same  experienced,  yet  I  thought 
A  bolder  British  spirit  now  prevailed.  Here’s  for  Euphorbia — 
And  oblivion.  Curtain. 
—A  Mummer. 
