February  23,  1809. 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTIGULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDE  A  ER. 
14P> 
One  of  the  causes  of  the  buds  of  late  Chrysanthemums  goin<? 
blind  is,  I  think,  that,  tlie  feeding  for  the  main  stock  being  over, 
the  remainder  are  sometimes  neglected.  This  should  not  be  ;  all  the 
help  possible  ought  to  be  given  to  bring  the  flowers  to  perfection  at 
the  most  trying  period  of  the  year.  There  are,  of  course,  other 
varieties  which  may  be  employed.  I  have  merely  named  those  which 
we  have  found  of  the  greatest  service. — J.  Shalford. 
DEATH  OF  THE  REV.  A.  HEADLEY. 
On  the  morning  of  Wednesday,  February  loth,  passed  away,  after 
exceeding  the  allotted  span  by  three  years,  the  Rev.  A.  Headley,  whose 
writings  over  the  cognomen  of  “  Wiltshire  Rector  ’  have  endeared  him 
to  many  readers  of  the  Journal  of  Horticulture,  His  was  an  ideal  life, 
though  accompanied  of  late  by  pain  and  suffering — patiently  borne,  and 
his  end  is  peace.  He  has  gone  whence  none  returns,  and  the  day  will 
never  dawn  when  his  memory  shall 
have  faded  from  the  minds  of  men. 
To  those  who  had  the  pleasure  of 
personal  acquaintance  he  was  a  valued 
friend,  as  was  he  to  those  who 
knew  him  by  his  writings  alone. 
Through  the  medium  of  these  pages, 
which  he  adorned — as  it  is  given 
to  few  men  to  adorn  them — he  made 
many  friends.  His  steadfastness  of 
purpose,  his  innate  charm,  his 
geniality,  and  his  fascinating 
personality  placed  him  amongst  the 
foremost  of  men,  and  we  must  now, 
with  melancholy  regret,  assign  him 
a  position  amongst  the  illustrious 
dead — illustrious  in  his  purity  of  soul 
and  his  love  of  Nature.  To  all  his 
friends  the  knowledge  of  his  death 
will  bring  a  wave  of  sadness  and  a 
flood  of  memories  of  the  past,  and 
these  may  find  some  satisfaction  in 
seeing  bis  portrait,  which  was  taken 
in  1884 — fifteen  years  before  the  end. 
His  son,  the  Rev,  A.  A.  Headley, 
writes  ; — “My  father  had  a  bronchial 
attack,  and  apparently  recovered 
from  it,  on  Sunday,  the  12th  inst., 
but  on  Monday  had  a  seizure  from 
which  he  never  really  rallied.  He 
sank  most  peacefully,  and  painlessly 
(wo  believe).  He  was  the  son  of 
a  doctor  in  the  Fens,  and  there 
he  got  his  love  for  bird  life,  which 
lasted  to  the  end.  He  was  at 
Corpus  Christ!  College,  Cambridge, 
and  began  his  clerical  life  as  a 
curate  in  Sussex,  but  from  185G 
to  1890  was  Rector  of  Hardenliui»h,  Wilts,  wl  ere  all  his  ‘Wiltshire 
liector  ’  papers  were  written.  He  originated  in  one  of  his  new  year’s 
addresses  the  phrase  “(lur  .Journal,’'  and  that  was  his  loved  term 
for  the  Journal  of  Horticulture  to  the  end.  He  had  many’  warm  friends 
through  it.  I  think  he  wrote  for  the  Journal  as  early  as  18C4,  and  I 
know  what  a  joy  it  was  to  him.  No  one  must  think  the  work  of  the 
village  suffered.  He  was  a  model  country  parson,  and  a  father  whose 
memory  will  ever  be  green.  He  was  buried  in  the  churchyard  here 
(Forchester).  it  was  his  own  wish.  He  had  a  great  horror  of  being 
moved  a  distance,  and  used  to  say,  ‘  Where  the  tree  falls,  there  let  it 
lie.’  Some  might  think  that  he  ought  to  be  in  Hardenhuish  churchyard, 
but  I  think  it  is  better  as  it  is.  He  came  hero  in  1890,  when  he  had  the 
seizure  which  compelled  him  to  resign.  He  liked  the  place,  and  the 
people  were  truly  friends  to  him.’’ 
It  was  in  the  year  1864  that  the  deceased,  in  a  charmingly  written 
article,  first  used  the  expression  “Our  .Journal,’’  which  years  have  made 
more  and  more  popular.  It  will  not  be  out  of  place  i.ow  to  show  tho 
sense  in  which  it  was  employed  on  its  inauguration. 
“  Now  for  ‘Our  .Journal.’  What  a  pile  of  them  !  How  soon  a  man 
gets  interested  in  a  periodical  !  Just,  and  only  just,  two  years  ago  I  saw 
a  number  for  the  first  time  in  a  gardener’s  cottage  (fit  place  for  a  *  Cottage 
Gardener’),  and  now  I  look  forward  to  Wednesday’s  post,  and  cut  the 
•Journal  open  quickly,  and  know  the  different  styles  of  the  writers,  and 
read  my  own  articles.” 
Writing  “  A  Few  W ords  to  all  Our  Friends  on  the  New  Year  ”  in  1 869. 
“Wiltshire  Rector”  said  : — Gardening  ever  claims,  and  rightly,  our  first 
thought  and  attention.  Our  gardens  cheer  and  comfort  us.  “  In  single 
and  married  there  is  but  little  difference.”  said  .Jeremy  Taylor,  “single 
life  is  solitude,  married  life  is  solicitude.”  I  accept  the  definition,  and  I 
ask,  Are  not  gardens  and  works  on  gardening  companions  of  solitude  and 
cheerers  of  solicitude  ?  In  countless  instances  they  are  both.  Single  life 
and  gardening  have  gone  together  in  all  ages.  'I  he  Kssenes  were  great 
gardeners,  so  were  the  monks  and  nuns  of  the  middle  ages,  ami  so, 
according  to  Mr.  Ilepworth  Dixon,  are  the  interesting  celibates  of  the 
New  World,  the  American  Shakers.  As  to  a  garden  being  a  solace  to 
the  man  full  of  cares,  notice  how  often  you  see  grave-browed,  city-looking 
men  in  omnibutes  bound  for  the  outskirts  of  London  with  plants  on  their 
knees,  telling  of  villa  gardens  delighted  in  and  giving  delight.  I  have 
looked  at  such  men  and  thought  what  a  comfort  your  gardens  are  to  you, 
my  friends,  and  your  wives  know  it  too,  and  if  they  are  wise  they  coax 
you  to  take  a  stroll  with  them  in  your  garden,  when  (that  trial  to 
husband’s  patience)  dinner  is  late. 
Let  me  drop  a  word  of  advice  to  young  beginners — the  3'oung  lads  into 
whose  hands  this  paper  comes  after 
their  seniors  in  the  garden  have  read 
it.  Visiting  recently  the  Orchid  houses 
and  pineries  in  a  noble  garden,  I 
asted  the  intelligent  head  gardener 
how  be  got  on  with  the  young  lads 
under  him,  to  whom  he  must  confide 
a  good  deal  of  work,  although  if 
they  failed  or  exceeded  in  dut)’,  ho 
would  have  to  hear  the  blame.  His 
answer  was,  “  I  get  on  w  ith  them  very 
well,  if  they  come  to  me  knowing 
nothing,  and  confessing  they  know 
nothing  ;  but  if  they  fancy  they  know 
something  when  they  really  know 
nothing,  they  give  me  a  world  of 
trouble.  I  have  now  a  couple  of  lacks 
who  came  to  mo  ejuite  ignorant,  and 
good  lads  they  arc,  for  they  are 
willing  to  learn,  and  simply  carry  out 
my  plans  to  the  letter,  and  to  please 
me,  and  will  make  good  gardeners. 
Young  men  !  bo  willing  to  learn, 
watch,  read,  take  pains,  and  do  not 
presume  to  know  before  3  ou  do  know. 
In  the  highest  things  it  takes  often 
half  a  lite  to  understand  our  own 
ignorance. 
Scienced  readers  !  I  hope  this  year 
you  will  turn  to  our  pages  and  find 
the  needed  information.  Practical 
reader?  1  I  hope  you  will  do  the  same, 
with  the  same  result.  General  rea¬ 
ders  !  I  hope  many  papers  this  year 
will  he  so  written  as  to  catch  and  in¬ 
terest  you,  and  that  the  whole  tone  of 
our  pages  will  elevate  all.  A  book¬ 
seller  said  tome, unasked,  “  A  gorilc- 
roan  gave  up  taking  The  Jnuni  il  of" 
Horticulture  Vii  the  end  of  the  year,  but 
came  to  me  in  February,  and  said,  ‘  I 
must  have  that  publication  again,  I 
miss  it,  and  cannot  get  on  without  it ; 
it  seems  wanted  by  all  of  us,  so  send 
it  to  me.’”  I  hope  this  is  a  testimony 
that  we  writers  do  not  labour  in 
vain.  As  to  my’  own  experience,  this  e.'tpression  has  been  in  constant 
use  among  us  in  our  house  for  years,  “Our  .Journal  never  brought 
anything  but  happiness  to  our  home.”  And  much  reason  have  I  to 
use  that  expression  when  I  sit  by  the  winter’s  fire,  and  count  the  long 
roll  of  friends  made  by  means  of  its  pages.  Perhaps  much  of  the 
pleasure  our  readers  feel  arises  from  the  fact  of  the  undying  love  of  nature 
which  is  at  the  bottom  of  every  heart,  and  which  only  wants  culti¬ 
vating.  And  of  all  nature  the  lovely  flowers  stand  next  the  heart,  they 
look  up,  and  are  close  to  the  eye  of  the  child,  who  falls  in  love  witti 
them  at  once,  and  they  entwine  themselves  around  the  heait  of  the  old 
man  and  woman.  The  love  of  flowers  in  some  hearts  dawns  very  early, 
in  other  circumstances  draw  it  out,  but  in  all  cases  it  is,  love  me  once 
and  love  me  ever.  Said  a  clergyman,  “  The  love  of  flowers  tame  to  mo 
in  trying  to  please  the  taste  of  my  delicate  wife.  I  took  the  cuttings 
under  her  guidance,  and  to  spare  her  strength,  and  to  please  her  ;  then 
I  watched  their  progress,  and  so  on  from  one  thing  to  another,  ami  I 
loved  the  flowers,  first  for  her  sake,  then  for  hers  and  their  twn.’  The 
love  of  Nature  is  sometimes  marvellously  great.  Thus  you  who  know 
(dd  London  will  remember  a  narrow,  close,  half-stifling  street,  called 
Little  Tower  Street  ;  in  that  street,  says  Peter  Cunningham,  'rhorapsoii 
composed  his  poem  of  “Summer.” 
Such  are  examples  of  the  work  of  a  man  whose  hobby  was  Nature. 
The  w’ords  golden  then  are  golden  now,  and  may  advantageously  be 
read  by  everyone  to-day,  more  particularly  perhaps  those  referring  to  tho 
rising  generation.  The  sentiments  therein  expressed  might  w  ell  have  been 
written  especially  to  the  members  of  the  “Young  Gardeners’  Domain. 
i 
