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PACKET OF SEEDS

SAVED BY

AN OLD GAEDE1STEE.

OHrttfon, enlarged.

44 [Beck (Edward)] A Packet of Seeds saved by

&n Old Gardener, Second Edition, cr. 8vo,

calf ncat,^Hff^. 1861

The authorship is disclosed by a presentation inscrip-

tion, and a note, to the late JOSEPH BONOMI.

LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY.

. MDCCCLXI.

LONDON :

PRINTED BY ROBHON, LEVEY, AND FRAJ?KI,YJi,
Great New Street and Fetter Lane-

Preface to flje Second (Station,

Messrs. Levey, Robson, and Franklyn.

GENTLEMEN,

I regret that I have not furnished you
before with the enclosed additional papers, and can
plead no other excuse than the usual ones, of nu-
merous engagements, absence from home, &c. It
gratifies me to learn that the first edition was so
soon disposed of, and that it has been long out of
print, and so often asked for. I cannot pretend to
offer any judgment upon what had better be expunged
from the first impression ; but the whole thing is in
your hands, for you to deal with as your judgment
may dictate. If you think any portion of the new
matter unsuitable, I beg its rejection, and if needful
I will send other extracts from Gregory's papers to
replace it.

Yours faithfully,

THE SQUIRE'S SON.

M374167

Preltmtnarg to tfje jFirgt Litton*

MESSRS. LEVEY AND Co. think the readers of the fol-
lowing pages will need no further explanation from
them after perusing the annexed letters. The one
signed "The Squire's Son" reached them when the
work was at press, and just in time to save them the
necessity of giving an introductory notice of their own.

Messrs. Levey, fiobson, and Franklyn.

GENTLEMEN,

Some years ago, my late honoured
Master took me to London with him, that I might see
the great show at Chiswick ; and there I got amongst
a many gardeners, and some of the young ones made
very merry at my old-fashioned ways ; and when I
talked about getting ahead of the world, they said I'd
lived in the good old times ; I couldn't do so now, if
Fd my time to go over again. So, when I got home,
I set to work, and put a few things down out of my
books, and meant to send 'em to the gardening pa-
pers, the Chronicle or the Journal, just to tell what
I've seen and done in my day ; but just then they

VI PRELIMINARY.

were squabbling about " Polmaise," and so I kept 'em ;
because I always notice, when there's a row in the
street, every body's head's out of doors or windows,
and it's hard to get attended to. Well, they've laid
by ever since ; but now I think I'll have 'em in a
little book ; for since I've lost my honoured Master,
and he's made me easy for life with a weekly allow-
ance, I don't care spending a little money ; and so
the bearer, who is my friend, — the shopkeeper in the
village, — will hear what you say, and if it won't be too
much, he'll pay you the bill, and you may let any
body sell the book that you like. Though I don't put
my own name and the place I live in, I know nobody
can say that I've told what isn't true ; and though
they that know me will find me out, and charge me
with writing it, I'll neither own nor deny it ; and so I
tell 'em once for all. I've tossed the caps down ; let
every master and man wear the one that fits him.

Your humble servant,

JAMES "GREGORY.

P.S. I shall look to you to put the papers a little
to rights when you're printing them, and to pay me
back all the booksellers can afford to give me ; and
my friend will call and see you about it next year be-
fore Christmas, when he goes to London again.

Preface to tfje Jftrst (Etrttton.

To the Printers from the "Squires Son"

GENTLEMEN,

About three weeks since, I was awakened
quite early in the morning, and shocked by the infor-
mation that Gregory was very ill, and supposed to be
dying, and that he very much wished to see me. I
directed immediately that his two daughters, who are
domestics in my family, should be called ; but I learnt
that they had already left the Hall for their father's
cottage.

On entering the room of this worthy man, he
stretched out his hand, and grasping mine with all the
little power he had left him, exclaimed : " Thank you,
sir ; just in time, just in time/' On inquiring how
long he had been ill, I was informed that, after read-
ing a chapter in his Bible as usual, he had retired to
bed in apparent good health ; but had been seized at
midnight with a violent spasm of the heart, which had
resisted all the apothecary's skill, and had prostrated
his strength beyond every chance of recovery. I asked
him if I should send for our clergyman ; but he de-
clined, saying : " No, thank you, sir ; I want all the
remainder of my time with my children, But give

Vlll PRELIMINARY.

my duty to him, and say, one more of his flock has
nearly got safe into the fold of the Great Shepherd/'

I took my leave shortly afterwards, that I might
not, by my presence, impose any restraint upon him or
his girls ; and within a few hours afterwards I received
a message to say that he was no more.

His remains were interred by the side of his wife
and children ; and the unusually large number of fol-
lowers and attendants at the grave gave a pleasing
evidence of the respect entertained for him.

The savings of his prudent and laborious life had
been disposed of by gift some time before his decease ;
his papers were, by his particular desire, handed over
to me ; and it was by this means, and from a memor-
andum, that I learnt he had made a selection, and
placed them in your hands for publication, I am not
sure that he has chosen the best of his materials for
his little work ; and if it meets with a sufficient sale to
warrant my doing so, I may possibly be induced, at
a future time, to give some additional extracts from
the quantity of observations recorded by him. In
the passage where he describes his difficulties and
troubles from illness, the death of his child, &c., after
losing his situation at Birdwood, he hardly does him-
self justice, for his conduct was manly and unexcep-
tionable ; and he was so much in request as a jobbing
gardener, that my father, who never lost sight of him,
and was always wishing him back again, fully believed
he was doing well ; and I cannot easily forget his re-
lating to my mother how pained he had been with
Mrs. Gregory's recital of their sufferings, which he

PRELIMINARY. IX

had learnt from her on the day he had called at his
cottage to reengage him. My father immediately
requested the apothecary to place his charge for
medicine and attendance to his own account, and
gave the same direction to the undertaker ; but this
only served to remove the surprise my father had felt
at their reduced circumstances. Every farthing had
heen paid, and that in a manner leading them to
believe that Gregory was well off. So strictly honest
and just were both he and his wife, considering no-
thing their own if owing any one a penny.

I have no wish to make him appear in any other
than his true colours ; he had his faults, like all men,
and entertained some violent prejudices, the effects of
a very limited education ; but he was a faithful ser-
vant, and withal very modest ; for it was his saying,
" There were plenty of better men than he, but they
hadn't the masters to fetch 'em out, as he had/' My
father had not merely a respect for him, but a sincere
regard, which his many years' faithful services had
strengthened, until he occupied the place of a humble
friend.

Towards the conclusion of my parent's life, when
increasing infirmities prevented his usual walk to an
elevated part of the grounds, where for years, when
in the country, he had been accustomed to watch the
setting sun decline below the horizon, Gregory was his
attendant, drawing him to the spot in an easy-chair
when the weather permitted. The last time my
father was ever abroad in that manner I joined them,
when, as usual, Gregory withdrew to a short distance ;

X . PRELIMINARY.

but my father beckoned him to come back, saying,
"You need not go away; we shall both of us soon be
where no distinctions exist between master and man."
"I never wish, sir," said his attached servant, "to
be your equal any where." A tear came into my
father's eye as he whistled, the signal for Gregory to
draw him home.

A few days after the above occurrence, we were
gathered around his bed, waiting that event which
we had long dreaded, but which was then close at
hand. It was the hour when Gregory was in the
same attendance as when my father was able to get
out. The curtains of the window were drawn aside ;
the sun was throwing his farewell rays upon the
chamber- wall ; my father looked round slowly and
earnestly on the faces surrounding his bed, but with
evident disappointment in his countenance. I guessed
the cause, and, stepping into the passage, brought
Gregory in. As soon as my father recognised him, a
smile of satisfaction played about his mouth; with
an effort he pointed to the window, still bright with
the setting sun, gently waved his hand in farewell to
us all, and immediately, his countenance assuming a
look expressive of reverent surprise, he departed for a
better world.

Until very lately the early riser on a Sunday
morning, who might happen to be passing our little
rustic church, would, on looking in at the window,
have seen a tall and venerable man, mounted on a
stool, carefully wiping the dust off a marble slab
placed on the wall of the chancel to the memory of

PRELIMINARY. xi

my father. That man was James Gregory; for such
he has chosen to call himself, and his desire to remain
unknown shall not be disturbed by me.

I leave it to your judgment to append this Letter
to his papers or not.

I am, gentlemeD,

Yours faithfully,

THE SQUIRE'S SON.

MESSRS. LE\>EY AND Co.

A PACKET OF SEEDS

SAVED BY

AN OLD GARDENER,

MANY talk about the good old times. I re-
member times sixty years ago, and I can't
call them good times ; and if what I write
is read by young gardeners, I think they'll
say with me that my times any how, sixty
years ago, were bad times. I shall never
forget them till I forget my mother. She
was a good poor man's wife ; did for him
well ; fetched him from the public-house on
Saturday nights ; took out of his pocket
what money she could find when she got
him home to bed, and made the best of it.
Little schooling I got ; and what I did get
cost nothing, and was worth less; for the
master, who was too stupid for sexton and
clerk of the parish, and so lost the place,
made us all learn by heart what we did not
understand with the head more than the

2 GET AND GO TO A PLACE.

hazel-stick that he thrashed us with. But
if my schooling cost nothing, I can't say so
of my victuals ; and my mother dying, my
father took more to drinking, and less found
its way to the cupboard ; and he was glad
when a gardener, who was in our parts on a
holiday, and used to drink with him, said he
would get me a place under him ; which he
did, and to which I went, near forty miles, in
a road- wagon. All my clothes went in a
handkerchief-bundle, and no large one nei-
ther ; and my father could ill bear to see it,
for he said, " Jem," as we went to the wagon,
— "Jem," said he, "take care of drink, 'tis
that makes your bundle so small. Promise
me that, and never learn to swear." He was
a kind honest-hearted man, ruined by drink
and good fellowship , as it was called in the
" good old times."

My heart was very heavy all the way; and
none the lighter when I got to my journey's
end, for it was late, and my father's friend
took me into a shed at the back of the green-
houses, and showed me a crib of a place,
where he told me I was to sleep ; and giving
me something to eat, said I must be tired,
and had better go to bed. It was a light

MY WORK AND PAY. 3

summer's evening ; and how the birds did
sing after a little rain we had ! but how
heavy it made my heart to be left in that
place all alone ! But I said the prayer my
mother taught me, and in I got on the bass
mats that made the mattress, with a blanket'
and coverlid for bed-clothes. My wages was
to be five shillings a- week, and find myself;
and that was the reason, the gardener said,
why I was to sleep there, because I couldn't
pay for lodgings.

I was tired, and soon fell asleep, and for-
got all about wages and every thing else,
till a strange face called me in the morning
to get up, and then I soon found out all about
my new life. I was to fetch and carry from
the garden to the house, sweep paths, and
beat mats and carpets, and at spare times
learn to dig. And these things I did many
a long day ; and they that recollect what a
growing body and great appetite can do at
the bread, let alone the beef, may guess how
I felt sometimes on five shillings a-week to
find all. Many a time I've seen the squire
push up the dining-room window, and throw
the dogs that lay about on the lawn bones
that I should have been glad to pick; and

4 CHEAP AND GOOD LIVING.

many a time I've felt queer when he has
called out to me, "Hoy! lay down your
broom, and come and take these bones off
the grass," which the dogs had done with;
and then he'd be stroking them, and saying,
" Good dog, good dog ;" and they so fat and
I so lean, they so sleek and I so patchy, I
often felt quite mangy among them. But
I'd a bold heart — my father was a pensioner
for wounds in battle — and carried my head
up as well as I could. From the kitchen I
got nothing, except a cuff from the cook,
which she never did twice, however, for she
liked the advantage, which that time she
didn't get ; but I managed pretty well, es-
pecially in hard weather, when mine and the
birds' appetites were the keenest ; for then
I caught them, ay, and cooked them too ;
and this was my plan : I'd pull a lot of spar-
rows, or maybe some blackbirds and thrushes,
and then cut 'em down the back, and filled
their bodies full of bread ; put them in a tin
dish, cover another over them, and put the
lot pretty close up to the bars of the stoke-
hole on the top of a bank of hot ashes. When
done, and it did not take long, there was a
supper for my master, if he had but had my

I FIND A FRIEND. 5

appetite and my teeth, for they made bones
of nothing. Two years I had of this dull
work ; for I'd a proud heart, and did not
care to go among the boys in livery that
were with the horses, for they were a bad
lot \ and I've noticed all my life that horses
seem to spoil any body that has much to do
with them, whether master or man.

These boys were a terrible plague to the
only friend I seemed to have in the world
that wore a petticoat ; they were always
tormenting her, and calling her a witch;
and they had nearly persuaded me that she
was one, too, when she first took me up.
She'd lost her husband not long before I
came ; and having nobody else to scold, she
seemed glad of me to keep her tongue in
tune ; and yet in a little while I found it
was only a habit of hers, and a cover to a
deal of real kindness. One while she'd
scold me for not being clean ; another time
because my clothes were dirty or ragged ;
and then she'd scrub my head or neck, or
wash my linen, or put a patch here and a
darn there ; and take so little of my money
for doing it, that she was another mother
to me for these matters.

6 NOTIONS ABOUT WAR.

This poor woman's work was weeding
in the garden and shrubbery walks, or
sometimes round the plantation hedges ;
and what with sun and wind and old age,
she was like a shrivelled apple, with a little
red colour left in its cheeks. The only place
she could go to for dinner was the shed
where I slept; and there, over the stoke-
hole, we used to sit and eat together ; and
many's the tale of trouble that poor crea-
ture's told me, especially in winter, when
we were both of us the worst off. If it
hadn't been for her I'm sure I should have
gone off to sea, or for a drummer-boy, spite
of the horrid tales I'd heard my father's old
comrades tell about the wars, when they
used to be drinking together after they'd
drawn their pension-money. And talking
of that, I've never read of any bloody mur-
ders to match things I've heard some of 'em
boast of doing, and glory in, too. Not my
father, he was the wrong sort of man ; and
often, after I'd been listening, he would say,
" Bad work, boy, bad work ; and who's to
account for it by and by I don't know ; but
I hope not me, though I've had so much to
do with it."

WHAT BUT A WITCH I 7

And I must say that, to this day, I can't
quite see how that which is so dreadfully
wicked for a man to do, to serve his own
ends, can be any thing else but wicked when
it's done for some trumpery little quarrel
between one country and another, such as
I've read about in histories. But I must
not forget this poor old woman. I've said
the stable-boys called her a witch ; and to
prove it, they said the cats would always
get about her if they could, and she could
handle snakes without their hurting her ;
and one boy said he once caught her with
a great ugly toad feeding out of her hand.
At last the kettle got too hot to hold the
water, and blew the lid off; for all the horses
were taken bad together ; and the coachman
complained to the squire that it was all be-
cause he had offended the old woman, and
she had bewitched 'em.

The squire, for fun, I suppose, called old
Mary to book ; but she soon showed him
that it was because she gave the cats mice
and little birds that they purred about her ;
and if she handled snakes, it was only the
harmless sorts, and not vipers. About the
toad she amused him a good deal, by fetch-

8 NO WITCH, BUT A WISE WOMAN.

ing a handful of tan out of one of the pits that
was full of sow-bugs ; and bringing him out of
the flower-pot he lived in, she put it before
him ; and, as the squire said, he stood like
his pointers would have done at a pheasant,
only turning his bright eye, and sending
out his long tongue and licking the sow-
bugs up with a click, one after the other,
before they could run out of his reach, and
never missing one. It taught me a lesson,
if it didn't any body else, — and that was, to
look into things myself, and not take all for
granted people say ; and I believe, if all of
us that are gardeners did this, we should
find many things we think bad, like little
birds, frogs, toads, efts, lizards, and snakes,
too, are good things in their places.

I was glad to find my old friend come
off so well; for I couldn't have borne to
have stopped where I was without her ; and
we went on very comfortably together till
she died, when for a while it was like losing
my mother again, I was so very lonely.

Let all young gardeners set great store
by a good mother ; they can have but one,
and if that one be but such as mine was,
they have a blessing. What would have

MY OWN GOOD MOTHER.

become of my poor father and my two sis-
ters and myself if it hadn't been for her I
cannot tell. She was always at work ; and
drink as my father would, she never nagged
him, and often coaxed him out of the public-
houses, and persuaded him at times to stop
at home. If she could not find him when
he was out tippling, she always would sit
up for him to let him in. She brought up
my two sisters to house-work, and got them
places in good families ; and they kept them,
always bettering themselves when they
changed; and they sent home many a
pound to help keep a house over our par-
ents' heads. Masters and mistresses little
think how some servant-girls help their old
or sick parents and brothers and sisters.
They often say, " The girls might save if they
would ; but they don't believe they lay by
a penny." I have known a pretty many that
have denied themselves a good deal, and my
eldest sister was one of them. She would
not marry till my father died, though her
sweetheart promised to keep him. " No,"
said she; "if there comes a family, then
there's nothing but the workhouse for him.
My sisters had me home, and gave me a

10 MY CLOUDY LIFE BRIGHTENS.

suit of black for his funeral, and we had a
few days together again. Our next meet-
ing will be in heaven, I expect ; for they
had no schooling, and I was a poor writer,
and letters cost eightpence a piece for post-
age ; so that the sight of one almost fright-
ened me when I was so poor. I have heard
they both married, and after a while went to
America. They were both nice singers, and
father and mother and we three have had
many a pleasant evening with our harmony;
for it wonderfully helps to bind up a family
does a little simple music and singing toge-
ther.

But a change in my hard kind of life was
oddly brought about. One November night
I was fast asleep, when I woke and thought
the world was come to an end. . A furious
gust of wind had blown the top off a great
elm that hung over the furnace-shed where I
slept, and crushed in one end of the roof,
smashed the glass of the greenhouse, and
ruined the whole concern. This worked my
deliverance ; for the squire, coming with my
lady to look at the mischief in the morning,
saw my crib, and said, " What's that hole
for ?" (His sporting dogs' kennel was a

FOLLY OF PROFANE SWEARING. 11

beauty to it.) I was by, and answered,

" It's my bed-place, sir." " The it is !»

said he. " Why didn't you complain to me
about it ?" I began to tell him that I had
once asked for a little more wages, when he

had only said, " That be ." But before I

had said as much he moved away. Now he
was not a bad-hearted man, but he never
looked into such things as he did into things
about his dogs and horses ; and if he used
foul language, in " the good old times," I
suppose, it was thought " the thing." This I
know, every man and boy about the premises
did the same, and tried to improve upon it ;
and that's another thing I've learnt, that
let servants try to imitate " their betters"
in any thing else, they were always beat;
but at swearing and the like Jack was as
good as gentleman ; and if nothing else
didn't make the quality leave off the habit,
I wonder that didn't; for such-like persons
as our squire like to see a distinction as much
as any of the florists.

In the afternoon the butler came to me,
and said I was to go and lodge at a cottage
on the green. It belonged to our master,
and he let a widow-woman live in it rent-free,

12 ' NEW AND BETTER LODGINGS.

because her husband, who was once coach-
man in the family, was killed by one of the
horses flinging him at exercise. The butler
was to give me the offer of a place, too, in the
stable, and out of livery ; but I begged off,
for I did not like stable ways ; and I knew
that at exercise before breakfast the coach-
man and grooms always had something to
drink at a public-house they passed by ; and
I hadn't then forgot what my father said at
parting about drinking, and its making my
bundle so small. So I begged off ; and when
I told the reason, the butler said I was a
great fool, for " what harm did a glass do a
man?'7 and yet all the while his nose and
face were giving the lie to his tongue.

After work I went to my lodgings ; and
queer enough I felt when I went in with my
bundle of little better than rags, for I'd my
best on my back. I hadn't the heartiest of
welcomes. The old lady did washing for the
Hall servants, and the cottage wasn't the
largest. She had two sons ; one was coach-
man to the squire, and one a servant some-
where else ; and she had one daughter, who
helped at home. This girl was two years
older than me, and so marked with the small-

NEAT, BUT NOT GAUDY. 13

pox, that the other girls in the village used
to call her " Pock -pitted Bet." You never
saw any of them keep company with her in
going to church (she kept no holidays) ;
she was so plain, and she dressed so plain,
too, and so neat. And there was something
in that ; for any body that passed her and
looked back at her face wasn't disappointed
at all. It's often set me wondering how
ordinary people can be so foolish as to dress
so fine, and sometimes outrageously grand,
as if to call people to look at their want of
beauty ; and many a laugh I've seen at some
of the Hall folks on this score. And not at
the Hall folks only, for I've often seen the
same at other people : if you looked at the
things on their backs, and their airs, you'd
surely have taken them for quality ; and if
you only watched 'em long enough, you'd see
'em slip into some little poking place, and
no occasion to walk in after them to see if
it was clean and all to rights ; for I always
noticed, that when people make themselves
so fine for the sake of being looked at,
they're sure to spend a deal of time looking
at other people. Somebody goes by the
window, up they jump ; and that look's not

14 ELIZABETH AND HER MOTHER.

enough, they must go to the door, or to the
bedroom up - stairs ; and if they once get
their elbows on the window-sill, no more
hearty work that day. But Elizabeth was
none of this sort, and though she was so
common-looking in her face and dress, and,
as I said, none of the other girls kept her
company, yet I always noticed, that when
any of them were in any trouble (and they
were safe to be after our young gentlemen
had been home from college), they were sure
to find their way to her to make her their
friend.

But what's all this to do with flowers or
gardening ? "Wait a bit, and you shall see ;
and if young gardeners cannot learn a lesson
from what I've noticed, they can't do what
I did. That first evening I went in, I sat
still and out of the way, till I saw the old
woman going for some wood to make up the
fire for her irons (she and her daughter were
ironing), when up I got, and fetched it for
her ; and after a while, and some supper, I
went to bed, — and such a bed ! after my
hole in the shed, it was like a nobleman's to
me. Next morning, when I went to work,
I was told by the head -gardener that the

AM MADE UNDER-GARDENER. 15

young man above me was gone into the
stable, and I was to have his place, and ten
shillings a-week, out of which I was to pay
one shilling and sixpence a week to the
widow for lodging and washing. This was
a fine lift for me in all ways ; for now I was
to work in the houses as well as the grounds.
Three months only I had in this place before
the under-gardener left, and I got his situa-
tion. And now I found the use of having
amused myself in reading and writing ; for
I had for a long time before put down every
night what I had seen done or done myself
in the day (though it was in a poor way of
writing to be sure), and this helped me won-
derfully.

The head-gardener was a kind man, and
took as great pains to teach me as I did to
learn. He was no one's enemy but his own,
only in one way, and that was his example,
which was bad for others. He must have
had a good temper once ; bu£ his drinking
habits killed all his respect for himself, and
then he forgot his respect for others, and was
very violent to his under men. I was eight
years with him, and did all I could to keep
things straight ; but the more I did the

16 GET A HEAD-GARDENER'S PLACE.

worse he got ; for when he found things
done, he kept more away from his duty, till
things went back for want of help, and mat-
ters got yery unpleasant indeed. Just as
they were about the worst, I got another
place, and that all in a hurry. I'd often
wondered if ever I should better myself;
and just when I had least hope, I got what
I wanted, without asking.

One day a friend of my master's was
walking round with him, and just as they
came where I was nailing some wall-trees,
the gentleman said, " I want a good gardener;
does your man know one ?" " There's one,"
said the squire ; " you may have him, if you
like." A few words settled it, and I was to
go in a month upon trial. I don't know
what else my master said, but I did hear
him say, "He's a methodistical fellow, and
that'll just suit you."

It was the fashion fifty years ago to call
any body a methodist that kept decent, and
didn't go to church. The methodists had
turned an old barn outside the village into
a meeting-house, and a good many poor peo-
ple used it, and very angry it made the par-
son and the gentry ; but they took an odd

PARSONS AND MEETINGERS. 1 7

way to put it down, for they would give
none of the charities to such as went to hear
the preacher, nor let them have any of the
allotments. It mattered not how good the
people were, go to church they must, or no-
thing for them ; but let a man be ever such
a blackguard, if he did but go to the church,
he got the coals and bread and allotment. All
this was no use, it only made folks like a
spiteful donkey at a hedge, — be as sharp as
you will about him, there's his- heels ready
for you. Some labourers got discharged be-
cause they would go to meeting, and that
made martyrs of them, but a poor kind ; for
if it hadn't been for the notice they got,
and being made something of, they'd soon
have gone to church again of their own ac-
cord. Two things I noticed, and I've always
found it the same every where :

" When the parson goes much to the Hall,
The poor parishioners go to the wall ;
And when a labourer's made a deacon,
It always spoils his stomach for bacon."

A word or two more, and I've done about
this matter. If the Church of England minis-
ters would only save seed more carefully, and
sow it more industriously, they'd see a deal

18 ELIZABETH'S MOTHER DIES.

better crops ; and if we poor folks only
talked religion less, and did religion more,
we shouldn't hear so much sneering at meet-
ingers.

About a week after I got engaged, ray old
landlady died very suddenly, which was a
great blow to her daughter, for it turned her
upon the world ; but she got lodgings, and
the promise of the same washing, and the
house was to be given up when I went
away ; and till then an aunt came to stop
with Elizabeth. She and her mother had
been all along very kind to me ; and when
the day came for me to go, it seemed another
leaving home, for I had looked so long at
that face, that I knew every pockmark upon
it. I helped get her washing-tubs, lines, and
things to her new home, and then bid her
good-bye. I thought I saw a tear when she
said, " I wish you well, or I would not say,
Don't you be caught by Margaret."

I went off rather affronted at this, saw
Margaret and some more, and started for my
new place, near eighty miles off. It was
morning when I got there, and early, so I
had a good look round, and found every
thing very badly done : all was slovenly

MY NEW PLACE AND MASTER. 19

and dirty, and at sixes and sevens, and yet
there was a good deal for that part and
those days ; there was a conservatory,
greenhouse, and pits, with two houses of
grapes. It was November, and not a
flower. As soon as my new employer was
up, I was ordered in. He first asked me
how I liked the look of things, and I told
him very well indeed. He said he was glad
of that ; his old gardener that had died was
" a very clever fellow," and . he hoped I
should be as good. And I've heard this
same said many a time since by gentlemen
over as stupid fellows as ever robbed a real
gardener of a place. He told me, in a way
I was quite strange to, that he wished to
see every body about him happy and com-
fortable, and that he must have no quarrel-
ling ; and if those under me did not behave
as I wished, I was to tell them civilly, and
if they did not mend then, to bring them
before him. He said I must join a benefit-
club that the clergyman managed, and try
and save something beside. u And mind,"
said he, " though you are upon trial, what
you are at first is your own pattern, and I
must have all the piece like it." He then

20 LIKE BEGETS LIKE.

told me to go to the butler, and have my
breakfast in the servants' hall. It was a
hall to the one I 'd left ; for though I never
eat in that one, I knew those that did by
heart, and pleased enough I was to see the
difference. I don't mean that my new ac-
quaintances were extraordinary, not a bit
of it ; only there was something about 'em
that made you feel comfortable, and they
had no stupid airs.

Now here's another thing that's no rid-
dle, and yet I'll set it for an answer. How
do you account for some hall -porters and
livery and other servants being so saucy to
decent people in some places, when in
others, ay, and very often where there's
real rank too, all the servants are so civil
and respectful? I've seen so much of > this,
that let me see the servants, and I'll tell
you what the masters and mistresses are
without seeing them.

I soon got to work ; and the weather
being bad, and the squire (this was squire
as well as the last) not able to get out, I
had a good chance to alter things a little.
I began upon the greenhouse — washed the
glass and paint- work outside : this made a

I GO TO WORK IN GOOD EARNEST. 21

better light to get the plants cleaned ; and a
pretty job it was to get the scale off and the
fly killed. It was long since they'd smelt
tobacco. I had a foreman, two men, and a
boy ; and a good set they were, only at first
humdrum and sleepy, like him that was
gone before me. After the plants were got
in as good order as they could be, a few
lumps of lime slacked in water served to
whiten the wall and flue; and a sponge,
brush, and mop altered the inside of the
paint-work as much as the out. When we
had finished, my foreman said, " I would
not have believed it." We did just the
same with the vineries ; and when they
were finished, I made my men clean them-
selves ; for I always say, that a gardener
that does not keep his body and clothes
clean is a dirty gardener with his plants;
and if I was a gentleman, I'd have nobody
about me that neither pleased eyes nor nose.
I had a comfortable pretty little cottage
on the premises, and that's where a gar-
dener should be. One nice room opened on
to the garden, and that was fitted up for my
master and the ladies. An elderly woman
did for me and the boy, who slept in the cot-

c

22 KINDLY WORDS WIN KINDLY DEEDS.

tage, as I was not married. She worked, too,
a little in the garden, and every little was a
help then, for there was every thing to do
except the kitchen - garden ; that was in
order. There was not a mould-heap — no-
thing to hand, all to make. It was tight
work, I assure you. There was the cow-
man to please, for the cart that brought
fodder for his yard was the only one I could
get. Then there was the keeper on the look-
out to pick a hole in my coat about disturb-
ing his game when I went in the woods for
leaf-mould; and the coachman, he would
not half muck his stables out, for he said he
wanted his horses to lay warm, and so had
clean straw over a foot of dung. Clipping
wasn't the fashion then. When they all
said 'no' to my wants, I said, " Yery well,"
and thanked 'em ; and ' no' they said a long
while, but yet I thanked 'em, till I fairly
tired 'em out into saying l yes ;' and as I
showed myself ready to oblige them, they
soon took to obliging me. People can stand
quarrelling with all their lives; it's like
whetting your scythe with your rubber, —
the longer you do it the sharper it gets ;
but they can't stand good nature ; let 'em

MUCH GAME BREEDS MUCH ILL. 23

be ever so cross, they're sure to give in,
like the same scythe against moss. The
keeper was the worst, and they always are.
Kind, good man as our squire was, the game
seemed to lie nearer his heart than any thing
else. That's often been another puzzler to
me, how gentlemen that are justices of
peace can keep so much temptation for the
poor man as a head of game, when they see
every week and every sessions what comes
of it. Then look at Mr. Keeper : if the
tenants didn't please him, they couldn't call
the farm their own, for he'd watch for some
flaw about 'em as he'd watch a poacher, and
he'd have 'em out by hook or crook. But I
got the right side of him too, and in a little
while had my mould-heaps all to hand, well
turned over, frosted, and housed.

I brought some things with me, and a
few neighbouring gardeners helped me to a
few more, and I made the best of a little.
I noticed, that whenever my master or mis-
tress came into the garden, it was only to
walk, not to look in the houses, which they
didn't come near. Christmas - day came
round ; and when my lady came into the
breakfast-room, I contrived that she should

24 NEW BROOMS SWEEP CLEAN.

find a basket of forced flowers ; poor things
to be sure, but enough for what I wanted.
Christmas time was not kept at the Hall,
except by the in-door servants ; all the out-
door ones had beef, and things for puddings,
for my lady said she thought wives and chil-
dren ought to have their share.

When the Christmas party was all gone,
the squire and his lady were walking one
day as usual, when they left the terrace and
came to the houses, and went through them ;
and my master said, " Have you got all you
want, gardener?" Now that was the very
thing I wanted. When men go to new
places, they often frighten their employers
by saying they must have this and that and
the other, instead of doing their best with
what they find. I told him I should be
glad of a few things, and he gave me orders
to get them. I could tell that he saw the
money wouldn't be thrown away, though
he said nothing of the kind. My lady said
a word or two about the pretty flowers I'd
sent in, and noticed what I'd been doing
about their garden -room front. But I'd
watched, and seen that their eyes were not
idle in the houses, and I heard, too, when

FIRST STEPS IN THE WRONG ROAD. 25

they were going away, " New brooms sweep
clean." " Ay,'7 thought I, " and so will the
old stump, if you only put it to the right
kind of work."

I found I'd a comfortable place of it;
and now and then a brother gardener would
call in, for I didn't go about much, and in
particular when the family was away, though
then's a leisure time. But evenings in win-
ter seemed long ; and one day a neighbour-
ing gardener asked me if I'd go to the
King's Head on a Wednesday evening, and
smoke a pipe with a few more that met in a
friendly way. I didn't think much about it,
and said I would ; and yet before that time,
and I don't know why, I wished I hadn't
agreed. However, as I'd promised, I thought
I'd go and see what it was like ; and if it
didn't please me, I needn't keep it up.

It was a cold February evening when I
walked to the King's Head ; and, I believe
you, it was a pleasant sight, the great fire,
and clean sanded floor, and well -rubbed
tables, with clean pipes and screws of to-
bacco, and a box, that when a penny was
dropped in opened its lid, and said, " Fill
away ; but shut down tight, or pay another

26 JOLLY GARDENERS.

penny." One dropped in after another, till
all were together; when I was colted, as they
called it, and put in the chair, for which I
had to stand treat. One meeting was a fair
sample. of all ; we had a deal of business, as
there always is at such times, minding other
people's and neglecting our own. It was
wonderful how wise we were about our mas-
ters, and all that went on in their families ;
then we'd talk about the affairs of the parish
and the nation, and as to the Parliament
house, it was a fool to us ; and I believe we
talked and smoked and drank ourselves into
the belief that there was but a few folks that
knew any thing, and they were to be found
at the King's Head any "Wednesday even-
ing. One thing I wondered at, and that
was, where the money carne from to pay for
mixed liquors, which some called for. I
know my pocket was getting very bare, and
that very fast ; for where I never had any
thing to drink but at meals, now I wanted
half a pint for lunch, and half a pint at four
o'clock; and I often found myself saying,
"It's only half a pint," excusing myself like
to myself. I often remembered my poor
father, and his last words ; but then I

THE SQUIRE'S BROAD HINT. 27

thought I should never get like him, and
kill myself with it as he'd done. But now
I think I should soon have been just such
another poor slave to drink, only one morn-
ing the squire pulled me up short with,
" Well, gardener, you and the King's Head
are too well acquainted to please me." At
first, I was for making some excuse ; but he
stopped that very short, and said, " You can
do as you like, and I can do the same. You
may choose the public-house for your even-
ings, and I can choose a man that spends his
time at home ; but let me tell you, whether
with me or in another place, you'll find bad
habits like your flower-pots, — you may break
'em, but you'll never wear 'em out;", and
then he left me.

My eye was opened, and I turned over
a new leaf, and left the King's Head alto-
gether; for which I got called a few hard
names, but they spoil no meat. I must say,
that at first I used to sneak off if I saw any
of my old companions ; for somehow or other
I couldn't stand being twitted with, " He's
afraid of his master," and the like. Before
I took the place, the old gardener always
paid the quarterly bills ; but now they were

28 FOLLY OF POUNDAGE.

paid at the house : but when the squire
found I was always in my cottage of an
evening, he sent me to pay the tradesmen ;
and then I found out how it was that the
mixed liquors were paid for. There was
the glazier took the money, and offered me
a shilling in the pound ; and so with them
all. They said it was the custom. u But,"
said I, " does the squire know it ?" " No,"
said they, "nor has no business to." Well,
I didn't want to make myself out over-hon-
est ; but yet I couldn't help thinking that,
if it was any body's, it was my master's.
Then I thought, " If I speak to the squire,
it will make trouble, so I'll think it over."
When I was ordered to take my book in, I
took courage, though I didn't like the job,
and asked if he allowed me to .take pound-
age. Jtf e seemed rather bothered at first ;
but when I told him what I meant, he said,
" Gardener, take it now, and I'll talk to you
about it another time." And so he did, and
gave me twenty pounds a-year more wages,
and told me always after that, at buying, to
do as well for him as I should for myself ;
and tell the tradesmen that it was not to be
paid by them any more. And so he did

TO THE OLD PLACE FOR A HOLIDAY. 29

with the butler and the coachman ; and we
all liked it, for they said there always
seemed something underhand about it ; — and
so there is too, and I wonder masters don't
know better, and pay fair good wages, and
do away with these things. 'Tisn't in hu-
man nature to make bills small, when the
larger they are the better for him that pays
them. It can't be expected that a man that
gives nothing shall get orders, when ano-
ther man allows poundage, Give good full
wages, say I, and you'll get the best of ser-
vants, or else change them.

After a while I asked the squire for a
holiday, to go and see my friends at the old
place ; and when he said " Yes," he told me
he should not find fault if I got a wife, pro-
vided she was the right sort ; for he said it
didn't look well for a man to live single
when he'd a comfortable place, and was a
little ahead of the world. I'd thought the
same thing ; and, to tell the truth, that was
just what I wanted the holiday for.

Old friends at the old place shook hands
very hearty ; and Margaret, with all her fine
clothes, hadn't forgotten me ; and when we
shook hands, hers was so soft, I could but

30 ELIZABETH AND HER TROUBLES.

look at it, and so white it was and so small,
that it set me thinking a deal more than I
care to tell ; but this I did, I went a few
miles, and bought a golden hoop to have a
leap through.

" You might have called before this,"
said Elizabeth, " to see an old friend," as I
opened her door one evening. " I saw you
pass ; and I did think you'd have looked

in."

I made some excuse, and we sat down,
and talked over old times, over those dead
and gone, and those still about ; and we felt
more like brother and sister than any thing
else. She told me all her troubles — how
hard she had to work, and how she'd lost
part of the washing at the Hall through the
lady's-maid, though she couldn't learn why,
only it was so ; and then she said she meant
to go to service ; and if I should hear of any
thing likely to suit her, she'd thank me to
let her know: she wasn't afraid of work,
only she wanted to be comfortable, — for she
wasn't at all so as things were.

" Well," said I, " I know just the place
for you, if you'll take it ; but you'll have
to work hard and live hard, and sometimes

MY CURE FOR THEM. 31

have to put up with a good deal ; for the
master's an obstinate man, and, right or
wrong, he will have his way."

" I don't mind that," said she, " if I can
but be comfortable, and be let do my work;
— but you'll see me again before you go,
and then you can tell me more about it ;"
and she put out her hand, and said, " Good-
bye."

" But," said I, " there's no hurry ; this
hard hand of yours has done enough for to-
day;" and I slipped the ring on her finger,
and said, " If you're of my mind, we'll make
another move with the old washing-tubs
and the lines and the pegs ; and for fear
you lose the place, say you'll take it, and
I'll soon show you the way."

'Tisn't worth telling; fbr nothing's easier
than getting married, if you go the right
way about it. And though the girls in the
village said I was taking her home to scare
the birds off my seeds, I knew what I'd got,
and so did they, and none better than Mar-
garet. But the less said the better; only
I'd have young men know, that there's more
truth than they think for in the old saying,
" Fine feathers make fine birds." Ay, too

32 EMPLOYERS AND EMPLOYED.

fine by half; and 'tisn't till they're fixed
for life that they find out how often " a silk
sock hides a sore toe.'7

How the squire and his lady did giggle
when they saw the wife I'd brought home,
though they did all they could to hide it,
and turn it off on something else ! " Let
them laugh that wins," thought I ; though
I did feel vexed, I must allow. But they
were a pattern of a master and mistress ; no
looking down upon those Providence had
placed under them, — always a kindly look
or word for all that behaved themselves ;
but if there was any thing wrong, then look
out ; there was to go into master's room,
and such a lecture — he was like a counsel-
lor. Dear me, if employers would but talk
a little more, in £ kindly way, to their peo-
ple, how many wrong notions would be got
rid of! Why, there isn't one master in a
hundred knows any thing about what goes
on in a man's mind, — how it rankles in their
hearts to see a sick horse or a lame dog sat
up with ! while, if he's bad, he may lie at
home, and never so much as a kindly mes-
sage. Yet it's all for want of thought ; for
there's a deal lost by it. A kind heart's

CHARITY OF A SORT. 33

like getting into a cold bed in a winter's
night ; if you warm the sheets first, there's
the blankets underneath to warm you in
return ; and so it is with poor men : if
you're frightened at the first chill, you'll
never find the glow there is about them,
that only wants fetching out. I hate to
hear some say, " The poor are so ungrate-
ful." Look now, people give away some
coals in winter-time, or some clothes to poor
women, — and some mean well enough, ay,
and do such things and let nobody know it ;
but if it wasn't for seeing their names in
print, and it's being a public subscription,
five out often wouldn't give sixpence. Well,
perhaps, by and by these same people want
a job done for one shilling that's worth two
shillings and sixpence; and then comes the
cry, " Poor people are so ungrateful." Out
on such charity ! say I.

And now let me tell about a bit of my
foolishness; for I've been foolish, like my
father before me, though maybe in a differ-
ent way. I feel ashamed of it ; but perhaps
the telling it may help some young men to
keep out of the pit I fell into, and teach 'em
when they've got a good place to try and

34 MY FOLLY AND MY FALL.

keep it ; for I've learnt — ay, and bitterly,
too, once in my life — that if good men are
scarce, good places are not like hedge-fruit
in autumn. I've heard men, when they've
got discharged, and been a bit fuddled, say :
" I don't care ; more places than parish-
churches." That " don't care" saying does a
deal of harm, for men use it till they believe
it; and very often, when they say it loudest
they care the most ; but young people catch
the word, and soon find the trouble "don't
care" brings. But I'm forgetting iny story.
I was now a sober man, a steady man ; and
as to work, it never frightened me. I was
always at it ; and the squire saw this, and
left things in the gardens and grounds
pretty much to me. People saw this ; and
where they used to call me James or Gre-
gory, now they called me " Mr. Gregory."
The Bible says true enough, " Pride goeth
before destruction, and a haughty spirit
before a fall." I began to take on ; and if
the squire gave me any orders, I did not
take 'em as I ought to have done. If he
had a plan, I had a plan ; if he wanted any
thing done, I was just going to do it, only
something or other; and then I was often

MY ALTERED HOME. 35

saying, at such times, "I'm sure I'm always
at work ; I do the best I can •" and the like.
I little thought what was coming, and all of
a sudden too. One evening, when I went
in as usual with my book at the end of the
month, after the squire had looked it over,
Jie turned full to me, and, lifting his specta-
cles off his nose, said : " Gardener, I wish
you to get another place ; I give you a
month's notice, and I'll give you a month's
pay beside ; but in a month the man I've
taken on will be here. You want your way
in every thing, and I'll have my own. If
you do all you can, you are always telling
me so; and I want a man that'll recollect
that I do my part too." My eyes flew open
like a pair of window- shutters, and I saw
all as clear as if I'd just come out of a wood:
but it was no use asking him to let me stay
with him ; he heard all I had to say, but
still the same answer, " My new man will
be here in a month."

I never shall forget my walk back to the
cottage, nor all I felt when I told my wife
that I was to go, and when I looked at the
children as they lay asleep in their little
beds. I couldn't read the chapter in the

36 I LOSE AND LEAVE MY PLACE.

Bible that night, as I always used to do ;
but my wife took the book, and said, "The
more trouble, the more need of something to
mend it." But, poor thing, her voice was
so choky, I couldn't have understood her if
I'd listened, which I couldn't do at all.

Time never went faster than it did that
black month. I couldn't hear of any place ;
or, if I did, I couldn't get it ; for 'twas not
easy to get one after leaving our squire.
People always thought there must be some-
thing wrong, though I showed a good cha-
racter from him ; and at last I was obliged
to turn out of my happy home into a bit of
a cottage in the village. I made it as late
as I could before we went in ; and how
strangely I did feel, as the children ran up
and down the rickety old stairs, so pleased
with a new place ; and the canary sung so
loud, whilst our hearts were so heavy ! Next
morning I got up early, and dug up the bit
of garden, and put that to rights, and tied
in the honeysuckle in front of the house ;
and my wife, she cleaned the windows, and
made all as tidy as we could ; for we wanted
people to see that we weren't idle folks,
though I was out of place. I let the little

UNDER THE DRIP AND INTO DEBT. 37

shopkeeper know too, and asked him to tell
others for me, that I was willing to do a job
for any body till I got another situation ;
and so I got jobbing-work here and there, in
gardens or at trees, with the farmers, and
other people that didn't keep regular gar-
deners. But no one knows how my heart
ached to see our little savings going, and
my wife wearing down with work and ill-
ness among the children ; for they took ill
about three months after I lost my place,
and kept so a long time ; and when one
died, it came so heavy to think it might be
all owing to our poor house and living ; and
I took up hard feelings against the squire,
for what I thought was cruel in him to dis-
charge me as he did ; as if he hadn't as
much right to choose a man as I had to
choose a place, or how to behave in it. I
think I could have done, if it hadn't been
for sickness, for we lived very close ; but at
last we had spent our little club-money, and
were obliged to ask a little credit. That we
had never done before ! and now we found
out what a miserable thing it is ; for when
the debt got a little larger, instead of less,
my wife told me she noticed the shopkeeper

D

38 POVERTY, SICKNESS, AND WOE.

served other people before her, though she
came first, and had been waiting; asking
them what they'd please to want, but let-
ting her ask for herself. My heart was as
proud as ever, and couldn't bear this; so
one morning I took a few little silver things
I had, and told the grocer to keep them till
I could fetch them away, and pay him ; but
I dare say he thought that would never be,
for he knew we were going down hill. And
one of my windows got broke, and had a
sheet of paper pasted over it, and there's no
poorer look than that ; and glad I was after-
wards it was broke, — as I shall tell, just to
show how one good turn deserves and gets
another.

Time wore away, and I did as well as I
could. Once I had got a few days' work at
a farmer's some way off, and had to get up
early, and was late getting home; and I
wasn't quite as strong as I used to be. At
this farmer's I always had my meals given
me, and I managed to save a bit to bring home
for my wife and the children. I left one
very ill one morning, my only boy; and
when I got home at night he was very bad.
I never found my wife in such trouble

A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE. 39

before ; and when we looked at his poor
worn face and bony hands, and then when
our eyes met one another, I thought no two
people on earth could be more miserable.
I noticed, as I got in, the broken window
was mended ; and so, for something to talk
about, and turn our thoughts a bit, I spoke
about it. " Oh," said my wife, " I forgot
to tell you that George came and put it in,
and said he'd do any other little thing for
us like that, and be glad of it." This George
was a poor outcast of a boy that I'd got the
painter and glazier to take, when it was
worth his while to please me ; and he'd be-
haved well, and got on, and made himself a
workman and useful. And while I was out
he'd walked down, and asked my wife to
let him mend the broken square; for he said
I'd made a man of him, and he'd never for-
get it while he could handle a diamond ; and
before he'd see our window go broken, he'd
go without a day's victuals. It almost made
me whimper to see this bit of sunshine, when
every thing else looked so cloudy.

It was late in summer, and I was up
early next morning and off to my work, got
it done, and went into the house to get my

40 A LOOK AT MY ONCE HAPPY HOME.

supper and my money, for they paid me at
this house every day. u I haven't got your
two shillings for you," said the maid ; " for
master and mistress went out, and I suppose
forgot it." She saw me turn colour a bit, I
dare say, for she said, " I can let you have
it out of my own money, if you like ;" but I
hastily said, " No, thank you ;" and putting
my supper in my basket, went off home. My
way was through a field, with a roundish hill
and a plantation in it, and the paths went
right and left from the stile to the two ends
of the village ; and the right-hand one was
my proper track. I never went the other
way, for it took me past my old happy home,
and I couldn't bear the sight of it. Things
never looked worse than they did this even-
ing ; for I thought of my home, and my sick
boy, and my quite empty pocket. Why I
did it, I can't tell, but I took the left-hand
path this time, and struck up to the side of
the plantation that looked right down on the
cottage. It was empty, for the man that got
my place was gone ] and the clergyman,
when he told us he was going away, once
when he came to see our sick boy, said that
the squire had told him he'd engaged an-

I RUN AGAINST THE SQUIRE. 41

other, and that before I could have asked
him to take me on again. I sat down, as
much out of sight in the hedge of the planta-
tion as I could ; the workmen were all gone
home, and the windows were open to let the
paint dry, for it was being done up all
through. The roses, honeysuckle, and the
jasmine, that I had planted, were all un-
nailed and laid down for them to nail fresh
bark upon the uprights and over the porch-
way. I felt as if my heart would burst as
I looked at it and the garden beyond ; and
I stopped and stopped, for the more I re-
membered my home there, the more I dreaded
going to the one in the village.

I don't know how long I'd been there,
when I heard a rustling, and directly after
out came the squire's favourite retriever, and
he just behind him, out of a little gate to a
private path through the plantation. He
saw me in a minute as I jumped up, and
said, "Is that you, Gregory?" I tried to
lift my hat ; but whether my sad thoughts
had made my forehead swell, or what it was,
I couldn't move it ; and I turned my head
away, for I didn't want him to see all my
face would have shown him, — for I'd been

42 BRAVE HEARTS IN MAN AND WIFE.

thinking tie might as well have given me
the place again as have taken on a stranger;
and I thought, too, he might as well have
let me earn the little things his lady often
sent to my wife, for they were very kind,
and gave us many little nice things for the
sick children we couldn't have bought.

When I got in, I found the boy better,
and the young ladies and their governess had
been to the cottage, and somehow cheered
up my wife ; for when I told her I had an
empty pocket, she tried to cheer me up too,
and said, "Why, Gregory, never mind; if
'tis winter with us now, spring '11 come by
and by. You never knew the longest night
without a morning ; if we ' ve care now, com-
fort'11 come in time; so let's hope on." It
did me good to hear her; but afterwards I
laid it to her having had a present of a new
warm shawl and stout pair of shoes, which
the young ladies' governess had given her ;
and about her I'll have a word to say before
I've done, for I've learnt a little about other
people beside gardeners, though I've been
one all my life.

Though I've told all my troubles, I
wouldn't have young gardeners think I was

A GREAT SURPRISE. 43

a chicken-hearted, snivelling kind of fellow:
through 'em all I walked stiff and upright ;
I never put my nose in another man's pot,
and never begged a favour of a living soul.
Pinched as I was, nobody knew it but my
partner ; and badly as we were off, all was as
tidy as a new pin ; she'd have no rags nor
dirt, no reminding me what we once had
been, and what I'd lost; and if our sick
children hadn't kept her at home, she'd
never have wanted a day's charing, for she
was a favourite with gentle and simple, and
in the worst of times was always ready to
help a poor sick neighbour ; and every body
had a kindly word for her when they saw
her homely face.

The day after I met the squire, I was
coming down the path home, and when
just in sight of the cottage I met the young
ladies and their governess, as I often did,
and very kindly I thought they all spoke to
me as they struck off to the other pathway
for the gate by my old garden cottage, which
they used to go home by. The nearer my
house I got, the more I stared ; the bit of
blind was took away from the window, and
it was wide open, and somehow it looked

44 BACK TO MY PLACE AGAIN.

very strange; and the women neighbours
were standing gossiping in a lot together.
I couldn't make it out, and most of all when
I got in and found the place as empty as an
egg-shell. Nobody was there, only a boy,
who gave me a little note and walked out
directly; and this is what it said, and it al-
most took my breath away to read it :

" JAMES GREGORY, — If you like to go
back to your old cottage, you are welcome to
do so ; and it will be your own fault if you
ever have to leave it again. You will find
your good wife and your children there. I
wish to see all about me happy and comfort-
able, and the way for you to be so is, to let
me be master and you be man. If you think
so too, go back to Bird wood again."

I need not tell how quick I was off, and
how often I said, and how heartily, " Thank
God !" I was soon there. And what a happy
sight ! the window-blind just enough of one
side to show the old table in the old spot, all
laid out and ready, as if I had never moved
away at all ; and inside there was my sick
boy in his chair, and the two little girls, and
dicky's cage on its old nail, and every bit of
furniture in its place ; and the little corner

HOW IT WAS I GOT BACK. 45

mahogany cupboard, with its glass front and
little silver things that I had left with the
shopkeeper, that was back too.

" How's this, mother?" I said to my
wife; " how's this?" But, poor thing, she
couldn't speak ; and so to tea we went ; but,
do what I would, I couldn't swallow a bit to
eat, only a cup or two ; and I was off and on
my seat so often, and here and there to look
at things, I was just like a chip in an eddy.
After tea, I set to work and got the bed-
steads put together, and things up -stairs
all to rights ; and when the children were
laid down, I had my wife tell me all about
how it was I'd got back. It was not the
new shawl and shoes made her so cheerful
the evening before ; but the squire had been
down whilst I was out, and told her I was
to be his gardener again; but that she wasn't
to say a word to me about it, for he did not
want me to know ; and he 'd send the cart and
take all the things up to the cottage, and she
was to go up and make all as comfortable as
she could before I got back from my work.
When she thanked him, she was like all
womenfolks, she out with all our troubles,
and what we 'd suffered one way and another ;

46 ALL'S NOT GOLD THAT GLITTERS.

and would have kept on for an hour, I dare
say, only the squire blew his nose so loud to
stop her, as she thought, and bid her not say
a word to me, only do as he bid. " And,"
said he, " if you are glad he should live with
me again, you may thank Miss Laura, the
governess ; for I always thought Gregory
was doing very well, till she told me he was
not, and then I meant him to come back
when my gardener left; and I would have
told him so when I saw him up against the
plantation, only he did not seem to care to
speak to me." "That shows," said I, "how
people don't understand one another, all for
want of a word or two. If he 'd only have
said he wanted to speak to me, how glad I
should have been to have heard him say as
much as he did to you !"

Gardeners, like other people, 'think they
are worse off than every body else; and
when they see fine clothes, and fine houses
and horses, and the like, they fancy them
that have them must be happy. So listen
to this.

Before I lost my place, one stormy No-
vember evening, about eight o'clock, we were
sitting by the fire, when there came a knock

A STRANGE VISITOR. 47

at the door. I took the light, and had
hardly turned the lock and handle, when
open it blew, out went the candle, and in
came, with the wind and rain, a young lady,
asking shelter. We soon had her in by the
fire ; and, poor thing, what a figure — so wet
and so draggled ! With it all, she put on
a deal of airs, and talked about being used
to ride in a carriage, not being used to get
wet, and the like. My wife gave me a hint,
and so I took my lantern, put on my coat,
and off into the houses to see all right, as
every gardener should do before he goes to
bed. A drop of candle - grease here and
there, now and then, always pleased me
when I saw it in a morning, as it showed
my foreman had had a look-out for a slug or
something the evening before. Well, the
rain cleared off and the moon shone out;
and when I got in-doors again the lady was
gone.

" Poor thing," said my wife, " she's the
governess at the Grange House, and been
brought up a lady, and yet she's so thin of
clothes, and so proud, I could hardly get her
to put on my thick shawl and a pair of my
shoes and stockings to go home in, though

48 THE GOVERNESS : HOW SHE CAME ONE,

she'd catch her death of cold to keep those
on that's by the fire. I did get her to, with
some coaxing, poor thing, though she sobbed
as if her heart would break when I wrapped
her up well and made her comfortable, and
saw her into the village."

A few evenings after this, she came
again, and brought back my wife's things.
We were sitting round the table, and our
little boy was drawing in his way to amuse
himself, and had got a sprig of jasmine.
She didn't seem in any hurry to go, but
took her bonnet off, and sat down with us,
and took his pencil, and showed him how to
make it look more natural, and said, if he
would like to learn, she should like to teach
him a little; and she drew him a stalk,
with a leaf and flower, and bid him copy
them a good many times, till he could do
them well, and she would give him another
lesson when she came again. After this,
she often looked in, and very kind she
grew; and, like every body else, she told
my wife all her troubles, — an odd thing to
me ; but I take it they looked upon her as
a kind of nurse. Her father had been quite
a gentleman, but spent all his money while

AND THE TRIALS OF THAT KIND OF LIFE. 49

he lived ; and when he died, his house and
all his land went to the eldest son. It
seems unnatural, but I believe it's true ; for
I know when my lord died, my lady and all
the children had to leave the park, and live
in a small house some miles off, and their
eldest son, a very wild fellow, came into all.
Poor Miss Laura had to go out for a gover-
ness, and came into a family, not far from
our squire's, to teach their daughters. The
master was as nice kind a man as ever
lived ; but the lady hadn't been brought up
with gentry, and nobody could bear her,
she was so mean and unhandsome in every
thing she did.

The night Miss Laura came to our cot-
tage so wet she had been sent to a house a
good bit off, to get her out of the way, be-
cause some young ladies were coming to the
Grange ; and visitors liked her company
more than they did her betters'. She did
not have a great deal of money given her,
though she could talk a many strange lan-
guages ; and has made us stare many a time
to hear her sing to our children songs of
people that live over the seas, and so natural,
too, it seemed no trouble at all to her. But

50 A KIND TURN DESERVES AND GETS ANOTHER.

it was not want of money she complained of
when she was talking free and easy to my
wife, but the being looked down upon, and
the way the servants treated her, copying
like after their mistress. My wife, who
knew a little about these things, when she
could do so and not give offence, used to
recommend her to wait on herself all she
could, and show a kind way to them ; and
when she tried it, she said she found there
was nothing she couldn't do for herself, and
how much better she got on. "We missed
her a great deal when we lived in the vil-
lage; for when the children were ill, she
was forbid to come and see us, for fear of
carrying home the complaint ; though it was
all an excuse, for it wasn't at all catching.
About two months before I went back to
the squire's, she went into his family, after
their governess married, and then we saw
her again, and times were better with her ;
and to show she hadn't forgot my wife's
kindness in former days, she had made her
the present of the shawl and shoes; and,
unknown to us, had told the squire how
glad I should be to go back to my old place
again; and begged my master to take me

FINE DRESSMAKER, A POOR HOUSEKEEPER. 51

on as soon as ever she heard the other
gardener was going. Nobody seemed hap-
pier than she was when she came late in the
evening, and saw us all settled in comfort-
ably again; and then she told us how it
was the gardener left. He was a very re-
spectable young man, and came from a good
place; but he had married a fine -looking
young woman, who had been brought up to
the dressmaking. Her mother, like a foolish
woman, instead of teaching her how to clean
house, cook, and so on, and getting her into
a respectable family, said her daughter should
never be a slave, and gave her too much her
own way. Well, when she was married and
had two or three children, she made a poor
slovenly housekeeper, and was very untidy
in herself. On Sundays she made a good
show, but on week-days she was down at
heel, and her clothes hung about her as if
she had been dragged through the bushes;
and so you may guess how the garden-room
was kept. A good deal of fault was found
at its being so dirty and dusty ; but she
wouldn't bear speaking to, and at last per-
suaded her husband to give up his place,
and take a bit of land near a neighbouring

52 ALWAYS SOMETHING TO LEARN.

town, and tnrn master for himself, — a kind
of market-gardener.

Poor Miss Laura ! trouble did her and
all of us good ; it was just like a heavy fall
of snow over the spring flowers, it kept us
in our right places; and when it melted
away, we never enjoyed the sunshine more.
She afterwards married very well, to a young
farmer ; but she soon died, in childbed, and
lies in our village churchyard. He's gone
away over the seas, so I've heard say ; but
wherever he is, he'll never forget her, nor
I either, the generous young lady : I wish
there were more like her.

When she went away, the evening we
got back and I'm telling of, the foreman
came in, and I got my lantern, and we walked
round the houses together. There seemed a
good deal of alteration, and the plants looked
uncommonly well ; but I laid it all to the
candle-light ; but next morning I found
there was no mistake; the man that had
gone away was a deal cleverer than I was.
I could see that with half an eye. Every
thing was in the best of order, and so many
new plants. So, said I, it will not do to get
behindhand : and ever since I've took in all

MEN MUST BE MEN, NOT MASTERS. 53

the different gardening books and papers I
could afford, and more ; and I often went
and looked at other places, and saw what
other people were doing. You may stop at
home and look at your own doings till you
think you cannot be beaten j but I've learnt
there's nothing like looking about you ; and
however well you may do a thing, try and
do it better.

I did not see the squire for some time
after I got back, for the family went away
the next day ; but when he came home, and
into the garden, I was nailing some trees,
and he came beside me before I was 'ware
of it, and looking very slily and kindly, he
said, " Is that you, Gregory ?"

"Yes, sir," said I; " and very much
obliged to you I am for all favours."

" You will have nothing to thank me
for," said he, " if you do what I wish ; and
if I tell you to cut off half the trees' heads
in the orchard, I'll have it done, though I'll
hear all you've got to say against it; and I'll
not blame you if I do wrong. If you gar-
deners don't take care, you'll sicken half the
masters in the country, and they'll employ
labourers instead ; for I'd rather plough my

£

54 TIPSY COURAGE, AND DON'T CARE.

place up than have a man in my service that
thinks himself too great to do what he's told
and when he's told. If I want my land
cropped to my fancy, do you think my bailiff
is to do as he pleases ? No ; he's too much
good sense for that ; but half of you gar-
deners mustn't be interfered with ; and that
makes gentlemen care so little about chang-
ing a gardener."

He then walked away ; but I soon heard
his voice again, and I thought he spoke as
if he was angry, and I'm sure my foreman
was, for it was he the squire was talking to;
but as I didn't see him before the men left
work, I didn't hear what it was about just
then.

In the evening, after tea, in comes the
foreman into my cottage, looking as red as a
turkey-cock, and as stupid as an "owl in day-
light, and the king's English had got so hard
to him all of a hurry, that he couldn't get some
of his words out. " I won't stand it, that I
won't," he kept stammering out ; " and you
may tell him so to-night, when you go up to
the house. I'm as good a man as he is,
though he is so rich ; but I don't care ; no,
that I don't. . I do my work ; and what

HEAVY RAIN AND SOBERED BRAIN. 55

business are my clothes to him ? his money
didn't pay for 'em ; and if they are patched,
that's no business of his. You tell him, I
won't stop ; no, that I won't. I don't care ;
no, that I don't ;" and so he went on.

I saw in a minute what the squire had
scolded him about; but I let him go on with-
out saying any thing, for talking to a tipsy
man is like putting dry leaves on a bonfire,
— it only makes it blaze the more. " Come,"
says I, "just go with me, will you, and let's
see if any of those boys are in the upper
garden, stealing the potatoes out of the pits ;
you take that lantern, and I'll take my
own ;" and he grew so maudlin to me ; and
then he'd abuse the squire, and tell me to be
sure and mind that he wouldn't stop, no,
that he wouldn't, if he'd go down on his
bended knees to him. When we'd got out
of doors it was raining finely, which I knew
well enough ; and he asked me to lend him
something to put over his shoulders. " Ne-
ver mind a drop of rain," says I ; " come
on ; you don't care for a little wet, do you?"
I took him the worse road and the longest
way, and it pouring hard all the time. He
soon left off talking about not standing it ;

56 SOBERED THOUGHTS ON SOBER SUBJECTS.

and his voice got clearer, and lie said such a
night as that no boys would be out stealing
taters. " We'd better be sure," said I ; "and
you take the outside the garden- wall, and I'll
go in; and be sure you catch 'em if I halloo."
When I thought he was downright well
soaked, I called to him over the wall, and
said there was nobody about ; and we'd go
home again, if he'd go back to the gate.
How he shivered and shook, to be sure, when
we met! he was as clear -spoken too as I
was ; and when I asked him if he was wet,
then he said he was, for his clothes were old,
and he'd got some holes in them. " I sup-
pose, then," said I, " the squire was telling
you of them holes." " Yes," said he, " and
angry enough he was." "Well," said I,
"you get home as quick as you can and
shift yourself ; it's no use your going to my
cottage ; the sooner you're dry the better ;
so good night." " Good night," said he ;
but perhaps you'd better not say any thing
to the squire to-night." "Ah, but," says
I, ".suppose he says something to me, and
says you're to go." " That'll be a bad job,"
said he; "and perhaps you'll say a word
for me." " Well, good night," said I ; " get

EYE-SERVANTS BAD SERVANTS. 57

home as soon as you can, and I'll see you
to-morrow."

I shifted myself when I got in, and then
went up to the house ; and after I had given
in my book, and got all settled, just as I ex-
pected, the squire began. " Gregory," said
he, " that man David must be sent about his
business — a ragged fellow ; surely he earns
enough to keep decent clothes about him.
I'm afraid he drinks too much ; there's a
something about him I don't like, — he never
looks comfortable, — and when I happen to
drop upon him unawares, he always seems
to wake up and move faster at what he's
about ; and that's a thing I never like to see,
for it tells plainly that he's only an eye-ser-
vant, and an eye-servant I will not have.
I like a man to feel as much pleasure in
earning his wages as I have in paying them.
Come," said he, " Gregory, tell me how you
account for it ;- can he afford better clothes,
or can he not?" "I ask your pardon, sir,"
said I, " and mean no offence; but if you'll
let me tell you all Fve thought about it, may-
be I shall do no harm, and you'd be better
pleased than if I held my tongue." " Go
on," said he. " Well, sir," said I, " you see

58 BAD LODGINGS MAKE BAD MEN.

he's all you say, — he's ragged and he drinks,
and he does no more work than he can help ;
and all shows that he's got no respect for
himself, so 'tisn't likely he'll have much for
other people ; if he had, he wouldn't have
spoke to you as he did. He was a decent
lad when he first came ; but I thought he
didn't get much better before I left, and I
used to tell him he went out too much of
nights. Since I've been back, I went up
one evening to his room, to talk to him about
getting to the King's Head, and stopping
out so late. He wouldn't say it was wrong;
but he said, ' Look here, who's to spend his
time always in this place ? Look at the
walls, how damp they are.' And so he went
on, finding fault with every thing. I told
him the other two men had just the same
lodgings, and they found no fault! 4 Not to
you/ said he, ' but they say plenty to me.' '
The squire stopped me when I'd got so far,
and said, " I'll look to it ; you meet me at
their rooms to-morrow at ten o'clock."

Next morning I was there, and showed
him how damp and wet the rooms were, —
too near the ground, and never a bit of sun
ever to shine in front of them. " Now, sir,"

A TRAVELLING SCAMP. 59

said I, "if I may be so bold as to say so
much, I think if you'd be so good as to put
up some rooms just over against the poor
men's gardens, with the backs of them look-
ing into the grounds, and the fronts to the
south, that I could manage to make the men
more respectable, or get some that would
be ; and if you'll make them a bit orna-
mental, I'll see that they shall be kept clean
and tidy, and no dissight to the place. Bad
rooms drive men to public-houses ; for you'll
see the difference in comfort, sir, if you look
any evening into the tap-room of the King's
Head, and then in here. 'Tis a wonderful
temptation to a poor man, that a rich one
knows nothing about; and a good many
that blame him the most ought to say the
least." He heard me very kindly, and then
went to the place I wanted him to build on,
and said he'd see to it, for he'd got many
things to think of that he'd never thought
of before ; " And who knows," said he, " but
David may be mended ? and so do not dis-
charge him, but tell him he's on his good
behaviour."

Gardeners, like other working people,
are often imposed on by a set of lazy beg-

60 SUCCESSFUL IMPOSITIONS.

ging fellows, who never did a day's work in
a garden in their lives ; and good care they
take to know very little, or nothing at all,
if they're questioned. Just to set others on
their guard against these scamps, I'll have
a say about one I met with that beat all I
ever saw of the sort.

I happened to be giving him something
to eat at my door, when the squire was
coming by, and asked what he was; and
when I said he was wanting work in a gar-
den, and was badly off with walking about
looking for a place, he told me to send him
up to the house. As far as his clothes went,
he was indeed badly off ; for if it hadn't been
for an old greatcoat to cover his rags, he'd
have passed for a scarecrow. Well, the
squire had him into an out-house, and had
him stript, and gave him some decent clothes,
and made quite another man of him; and
the butler said he was so grateful, and spoke
so pleasant, and told such tales of his hard-
ships, and how it was every body's fault but
his own that his misfortunes had come from,
that they clubbed round in the servants'
hall, and gave him six shillings to start
with. The squire had a look at him before

SIMPLE TRUTHS INSTEAD OF LIES. 61

lie went, and put another half-crown to it ;
though, as he said after, it was all from
what the butler had told him; but when
the butler was twitted about it, he said it
was all the girls' doing, because he looked
so taking after he was washed and dressed
up in the squire's old clothes; and they
persuaded him that he must be no impostor.
Well, the next morning the squire was
going to the town, as it was a bench-day,
and bid me take the light cart and go with
him, as he wanted to pick out a few things,
just to help on the gardener, that I've told
of before, that had turned nurseryman. He
rode on just before me ; and about a mile
away from home, I saw him draw his horse
up to the bank-side all of a hurry. When I
came up, he said : " Gregory, isn't this the
man that was begging at our place yester-
day? He says he isn't." "Yes, sir," said
I; "there's no mistake about that." No
sooner had I said the words, than he raised
himself up — for he was lying down — and
says: "Well, what if I am?" "Why,
then," said the squire, " you're an impostor,
and an ungrateful rascal ; and I'm a justice
of the peace, and I'll give you fourteen days

62 THE SCAMP'S HISTORY.

at Bridewell." "Do," says he, "and wel-
come ; I've been in a good many times, and
never came out but I'd learnt some new
move or other. I've nothing to thank you
for," he went on; "you'd have spoilt my
trade altogether by dressing me up, only I'd
the luck to change your old clothes for
these ; and we drank your health into the
bargain."

The fellow's impudence tickled the squire ;
and when he saw he'd been drinking, and
was mighty talkative, he gets off his horse,
and bidding me hold his head, said to him :
"Come, you're a clever rascal; give me
your history, and I'll give you another half-
crown. Where do you come from, and how
do you live?" "With all my heart," says
he, "only let's have the half-crown down.
I don't come far from here — only the next
village : but I've been away so long nobody
knows me; and what brought me here I
can't tell now ; though I did seem to think,
before I got here, that I must have a look
at the old place, and the fields again where
I'd played : but now I wish I hadn't come.
I was made a beggar of from a boy, and that
no great fault of mine either. I was bird-

HIS TALE CONTINUED. 63

keeping on a bit of seeds, and had an old
gun and a little powder, and I thought I
might as well try and kill some as well as
frighten 'em ; so I put some little gravel-
stones a-top of the powder, when, as luck 'd
have it, there came through the steward's
hedge one of his fowls. I up with my gun,
without a thought, and let fly. I was close
to him, and knocked him over ; but the next
minute I was in the clutches of the gardener,
and hauled off to the constable; and from
the constable to the Bridewell for fourteen
days : but, after all, 'twas more to spite my
father than any thing else."

"No fault of yours, no doubt," said the
squire. " You must not interrupt me," says
the rogue, " or I can't tell my story." Says
I, "Why don't you get up, and treat the
squire as you ought to do ?" for I felt quite
mad with the fellow's impudence. "Time
enough for me to do that," says he, " when
I'm brought afore him : you that pick his
bones may do it know." I thought at this
I should have fell 'upon him ; but says the
squire, " Don't interrupt him, Gregory. Let
me hear what spite had to do with your
going to prison."

64 PRISON TEACHING, AND

" Why," said he, " my father was what
they call a jockey-man, and jobbed about
with things, — hay and straw, and sometimes
poultry, which my mother reared. He'd a
good many pigeons, too, which the farmers
sometimes complained about. One day the
steward's two sons, who were home for a
holiday, were going by with their guns, and
none the more out of spirits for stopping a
little while at an ale-house just by, when
they let fly amongst the pigeons on our
barn-top, for a wager who'd kill the most.
My mother saw ?em, and they saw her ; but
they cut off like the wind, though not so
fast but my father caught 'em ; when they
denied it altogether, and wouldn't pay; so
he had 'em up, and then they had to pay
the dearer; and this made the steward
mighty angry. When I was caught, my
father was away ; but my mother went and
offered to pay for the fowl, as they'd done
for the pigeons; but the justices wouldn't
hear any thing she had to say about that,
and so to Bridewell I was sent. Well, the
same day a fellow was sent there for a
vagrant, and he soon showed me how to get
a living without bird-keeping ; and instead

THE FRUIT IT BEARS. 65

of going home when my time was up, I
went off with him ; and I've seen something
since then, I can tell you : and 'tis just like
any other trade — you're always a-learning ;
and that made me say I shouldn't care for a
fortnight in the stone jug. Another thing,"
said he, "look here;" and he pulled open
a hole in the ragged trousers he'd now
got on, and showed a great sore. "There,"
said he, "that's bad, but it's earnt me a
trifle ; for when I act the sailor, I say how
I got it at sea falling off the mast when it
was struck with lightning; though, to tell
the truth, I got it dancing, when I was
about drunk, in a pot-house, and fell on a
labourer's pickaxe, that the fellow had put
right in the way of honest people. It's
rather too sore now," said he, " and a little
rest'll do it good ; so if you'll let me ride in
the cart, you may commit me, if you like ;
only don't make it for too long, nor put me
to hard labour."

Dear, how the squire did laugh at the
fellow's impudence ! " I commit you !" says
he; "no, that I won't; why you'd spoil a
jail, and all in it. But you said I'd done
you harm by giving you better clothes ; how

66 WHY PEOPLE GIVE TO BEGGARS.

do you make that out?" " Easy enough,"
said he. " It's no matter how you're dressed
when you beg of the poor, if you've only a
good tongue, and fit your tale to the listener :
but with people better off, you can't be too
ragged; and if you can show a sore like
mine, so much the better. The poor give
because you get the better of their feelings,
and they know what 'tis to want and to be
hungry and a-cold; but the rich give you
something because you make 'em feel un-
comfortable, and they want to get you out
of their sight."

" What do you say to that, Gregory?"
said the squire. " Why, he's quite right,"
said I. " So he is," said my master ; and he
got on his horse, and off he rode: and I've
learnt ever since then to give nothing away
to people I know nothing about. I wrote
all this down as soon as ever I got home,
for I learnt more from that fellow than I 'm
likely to forget very soon. He said he'd
never been to school ; for his father used to
say, " More school, more fool :" " But," said
he, "if he had been able to write, like
enough I might be able to find him ; for
then perhaps he'd have written to some one

A GARDENER'S AND EMPLOYER'S QUESTION. 67

in the place, since he's moved nobody knows
where."

As I was busy with the men one day
making some alterations in the shrubberies,
a gentleman, who lived not far off, came
into the grounds, and walked on one side
with the squire, and had a long talk with
him ; and then they beckoned me to them,
when the gentleman said, " Gregory, what's
your opinion of this case ? My gardener is
going to leave me, and claims a lot of plants,
which he says he had given to him, and which
are now some of the best in my conservatory.
We're parting on very good terms, and I really
wish to do what's right ; but I don't mean
him to take them away till I feel more sure
than I do just now that he has any business
at all with them. Now tell me .honestly what
you think about it as a brother-gardener;
mind, I know nothing about them, whether
he got them in exchange or not, but I've seen
them in my house for more than a year."

I thought over it a bit, and then said,
" I think I can get you an answer, if you'll
go with me to our two old woodmen, and
they're not far off; and I'd rather do that
than give you one my self. "

68 THE QUESTION ANSWERED

They were two old pensioners of the
squire's, — two brothers that had worked in
the plantations in his father's time from
boys, — and the squire had let them have a
little bit of ground on the sunny side of one
of the spinneys ; and there, under a couple of
ash-trees, they'd built a bit of an arbour on
the bank, where they used to sit every fine
day, after they'd hobbled about awhile on
their two sticks a-piece, and remind one ano-
ther of what they'd done in their day, and
what fine woods their work had grown into ;
and then they'd chuckle, and say, " Ah,
there'll be no more such seen," and so on.

Well, the squire and his friend said
they'd go ; but I asked them to get quietly
through the spinney just to the back of their
arbour, and listen to them from there; for
'tis the hardest thing in life to "get a poor
man to speak what he thinks before what he
calls his betters : they always answer just as
they think they're wanted to do. When I got
up to them, I bid them a good morning, and
said, " Well, here you are, sunning yourselves
again this fine autumn day ; — talking about
your woods, I suppose." " You may say
that," said Ben, "for they are something to

BY BEN AND HIS BROTHER. 69

talk about ; and neither you nor the squire,
clever as you think yourselves, will ever
make as good, going on as you do now plant-
ing so thin, and always hecking about in the
young plantations as you do, for all the
world as if you was hoeing turnips." I saw
I should soon lose my hare if I let them
hunt theirs, so I came to the point at once
by asking whose trees they called them that
they were sitting under. " Why ours, to be
sure," said Ben; " didn't we plant 'em a
pretty many years ago, when they was no
bigger than this here stick of mine? and
haven't we looked after 'em ever since, till
they are as they are?" "Well," said I,
"they're worth a trifle now to the wheel-
wright ; why don't you turn 'em into money ?
they'd buy you some victuals, and warm
clothes for your old bones." "Why there
you are again, always a-joking, Master Gre-
gory," said Ben. "Tho' we call 'em ours,
you know well enough they're the squire's ;
for tho' we got the saplings and planted 'em,
'tis the squire's land they grow on ; and
'twas in the old gentleman's time, too, we
used to fence 'em off, and so on, just when
they wanted a little looking after, up to the

F

70 CHEAP COUNSEL'S OPINION.

day lie christened 'em the Two Brothers,
and they grew out of harm's way, and could
take care of themselves. And 111 tell you
what, Master Gregory, when we're both dead
and gone, mind you say a kind word for
keeping 'em up, or we'll pop out of our
graves and haunt you."

" No, they shall never be cut down, Ben,"
said the squire, laughing, as he jumped out of
the spinney with his friend after him ; " I pro-
mise you that \ and this gentleman and Gre-
gory shall be witnesses that I'll charge your
young master never to put an axe to them,
but let them live in the sun and the wind, as
you do yourselves, as long as they can." But,
dear me, the old men hadn't another word to
say, only in the way of thanking the squire
and his friend, who put a shilling a-piece into
their hands for what he called the best and
cheapest counsel's opinion he had ever had.

A few days afterwards, the gentleman's
gardener came to me, and said I had better
mind my own business, and not interfere
with other people's ; and it was time enough
for me to speak when I was asked, and a
deal more of the same kind he threw out at
me. I was sorry to see him so hot and

HARD MEASURE FOR GARDENERS. 71

angered; for he was a good kind of man,
and we had been very friendly as neigh-
bours ; but he would not hear a word I had
to say at that time.

However, I was not going to lose an
acquaintance I respected that way ; so I
walked up and saw him in the evening,
and told him just what Fve put down here ;
and in a little while he saw with me that
if a gardener grows plants at his master's
expense of time and means, they must be
left behind when he goes away, unless it
is agreed between them that he may take
them with him. I know his was a hard
case, and so it is many a stirring man's that
wants to keep pace with the times, when he
buys or has given to him a few good things
for himself, and makes his employer's place
gay, to get no other encouragement than to
be told to do as much that way as he can,
and after all to have to leave them behind
him. I've had this thing over many a time,
and have heard men say that there shouldn't
be a plant in a place unless the owner would
buy them; but I can say for myself, and
many others, that if a man loves his busi-
ness, and wants to fit himself for some bet-

72 PREACHING OF GOOD PRACTICE.

ter situation, if the chance offers, he must
do the best he can to get his hand in ; and
every young gardener will find 'tis not throw-
ing time and pains away to do so. The
squire always gave me full leave to give
away or exchange any thing we had to
spare ; but he never would allow me to give
to people that could afford to buy, and yet
would rather beg. In his merry way, he
would say to such people, "There's so and
so the nurseryman, or the florist ; I want to
see them thrive, and it's a real kindness to
give them a turn. Tell them I sent you,
and that the next time I see them I shall
inquire how they served you/' He dearly
loved giving a striving man a helping hand^
happen how it would. One day, walking
up a hill, he saw a fellow with a donkey -
cart. Poor little Neddy was sadly over-
loaded ; so what does the squire do, but get
behind and push till the cart was fairly at
the top, when squire, man, and donkey all
stopped to get wind. " You overload your
donkey, my friend, " said the squire ; " and
it's very cruel to the poor brute." "Ah,
master," said the fellow, " a good many
people's told me that ; but you're the fust

COMFORTABLE CONCEIT. 73

as has ever pushed behind;" which was
something like saying, " it's a deal easier to
preach than to push."

What a blessing to a parish is a good
clergyman! When I first came to Bird-
wood the rector lived there ; but though he
was a very good kind of man in his way, he
thought so much of himself, and preached
so learned, that poor folks could not under-
stand it, — some would be asleep, and some
would sit with their mouths as wide open as
if he'd been shelling out sugar-plums, and
they waiting to catch them. He'd come of
a great family, and never knew much about
the poor. But he changed away afterwards
to somewhere else, as I heard ; and the new
rector brought with him for curate a middle-
aged gentleman, and things soon took a turn,
for he was always amongst us ; and the peo-
ple soon left off going to the dissenters' meet-
ing, till there was hardly a dozen left, and
they not the good, old, respectable folks, but
of that comfortable kind that think some's
born to be lost eternally, and some saved.
Of course they themselves are all of the last
sort, and very thankful I've heard them
make themselves at the others' expense ; as

74 • NURSING AN OLD GRUDGE.

if God, that shows His goodness in all things
in nature, shouldn't be good and just to all
mankind alike. I hope to meet them in
heaven, if it's only to see the conceit took
out of 'em ; for nothing but death will do it.
The rector didn't live in the village, but
came always twice a year; but we heard
say that he paid a great deal of the tithes
to the curate, and well he deserved it. I'll
just show the kind of man he was. One
night, pretty late, he tapped at my door (for
he never opened the poorest man's door with-
out a rap), and when he'd sat down, he said,
" Gregory, I've been speaking to Whittaker,
your brother-gardener at the Grange, about
your decorating the church together, with
holly, against Christmas-day; but he tells
me you're not friends now, and he'd rather
do it alone." "Well," said I, "and he may,
for I don't care if I never speak to him again
as long as I live." " I'm sorry to hear that
of two of my parishioners," said he ; " but
as I'm late, perhaps you'll be so good as to
light me home into the village?" "With
all my heart," said I, and got my lantern.
As we walked along, he talked to me about
loving my neighbour, and as life was uncer-

THE REVEREND PEACEMAKER. 75

tain, that we couldn't live too well prepared
in every way for death ; and he talked so
kindly, that though I was as determined as
ever not to speak to the man again, the time
seemed scarcely any before we got to his
door ; and I was for saying good night, only
he asked me just to light him along his pass-
age into the kitchen, which I was glad to
do. I noticed, when he shut the door after
me, that he locked it, and put the key in his
pocket ; and it seemed odd, but I saw the
reason in a minute when we got into the
kitchen, for there stood Whittaker. " Now,"
said he, " I've got you here to ask you to
help me to a good night's rest, by knowing
you are friends again ;" and he repeated to
us both a deal he'd been saying on the way.
"Well," said I, " if Whittaker will beg my
pardon, I'll forgive and forget." "I've no-
thing to beg your pardon for," said he ;
" what have I said or done ?" " Why," said
I, " you told the carrier, when I left Bird-
wood, that there was some good reason for
it, or I shouldn't have lost my place there ;
and you might as well have told the barber,
for I heard of it again, and more than once,
and it did me a deal of harm that I never

76 A CONCEITED MAN, AND

deserved." " I won't deny saying so," said
he; " but I never meant to hurt you."
" Come," said our minister, " shake hands,
shake hands, and be friends again. "When
you've a parcel of rubbish in your gardens,
neither fit for dung or to burn, what do you
do with it, eh, Gregory ?" " Why, bury it,"
said I; and we both laughed and shook hands,
for there was no helping it ; for the quarrel
was just like the blacksmith's forge — you
pull the handle, and it blazes up, and the
more you pull, the fiercer it burns ; but
only let the handle alone, and it's soon
out. " Now," said the minister, " I know I
shall have a handsome church." And when
Christmas-day came, our rector preached ;
and he told the curate after, it did his heart
good to see such a church full of honest-look-
ing, hard-working people and their wives, and
to see all the seats and windows look so season-
able with holly and evergreens.

There was a gardener came into our vil-
lage one spring, and it was nothing uncom-
mon he came about ; for it was only to be
married to a young woman that belonged to
our parts, and had been a fellow-servant of
his. I can't quite see what makes all the

AN IGNORANT ONE. 77

difference, but Fve noticed, in more people
than gardeners, that when they've been
about London they give themselves a deal
of airs amongst us country-folks, and try to
make us believe that they're something
more than we value 'em at ; they'd have us
think we know less than they do, and they
expect us to believe it too. But we're rather
unwilling to do more than listen ; we do
that as well as we can, though it's rather
trying to one's patience.

One day I'd just got up from dinner,
when the one I'm telling of came up, and
asked if he might have a look round. I
thought what kind of a man I'd got hold of;
so I first took him into the old garden and
into the old houses — the ones I found when
I came to Birdwood, and which we used
just to keep bedding-out things and the
orange-trees in, and some late vines over-
head. These old-fashioned houses, with steep
roofs, heavy sashes, small glass, and brick
flues, soon set his tongue loose, and he began
to talk very large about my place and my
plants, my houses, and my every thing. He
used such fine words, too, that I could not
tell what he meant ; and he pulled first one

78 A MODEST MAN, AND

thing and then another about, and, looking
at the orange-trees, which wanted new tubs,
said he, " These are doing badly ; let me re-
commend you to get a little more Icarbonic
hacid gas into your soil, and you'll find it
wonderfully venerate 'em." " Well," said I,
" I have heard as much ; but 'tisn't easy to
get it in a country place like this ; perhaps
you'll be so good as to send me a little par-
cel down by the wagon from London that
passes by ;" and I pulled out half-a-crown.
JBut he said he was sure it would not be
more than a shilling, and he would not for-
get it. He was going, till I said, "This
way," and took him through a door into the
new houses, a large range all heated with
hot water: one for stove and greenhouse
plants, one a fine grape-house, with divisions
for succession crops, and another with peaches
and figs ; then, again, pits for cucumbers and
melons, and one for mushrooms. Though I
say it myself, they were a credit to us, if
nothing to boast of; and he thought so too,
for his eye caught mine, and there was some-
thing in it that stopped his tongue ; and
when I began to ask him a few questions
how he did this and did that, he was all

A FIRST-RATE ONE. 79

over confused, and made an excuse to be off ;
and I was glad to get rid of him, though I
didn't let him go without bidding him not
forget the Icarbonic hacid gas to venerate my
plants with. How foolish we are to use
words we don't know the meaning of!

But I must say a word about a very dif-
ferent kind of man — Fm afraid to say gar-
dener ; for if he's a standard for gardeners,
I'm not one, I'm only a labourer ; and I'd
rather, if I had to start afresh, be like him
than be the greatest man in the land. He
was none of that wishy-washy sort that you
may wring like a dish- clout and get nothing
out of, but of that kind that says little, ^and
yet knows and can do much. How I wished
he'd lived only some few miles off instead of
in another county. I carried him a note
from the squire, who was a friend of his
lady's ; and as I got to the place rather late
in the evening, I thought I'd walk to his
house and give him the letter, just to see
what kind of a greeting I was to get, and so
be ready for the morning. His little maid
took in the note, which brought him to the
door directly; and he had me in at once,
more like an old friend than a stranger.

80 THE FIRST-RATE GARDENER*.

The first thing he asked me was where
I was going to sleep. I told him I'd got a
bed at a publichouse near the park gate.
"You don't sleep there," said he, with a
merry smile ; " that is, if you can bend your
knees a bit, for my spare bed's none of the
longest. And come/' said he, " you must
want something to eat and drink. I'm just
going to tea, and I've a bit of cold meat and
a keg of home-brewed in the cellar ; so you
shall not want."

"A cup of tea and a clear head, if you
please," said I ; " and with all my heart I'll
make myself as welcome here as you shall
be in my cottage at Birdwood, if you will
but come and see me there."

While the women-folks were getting the
tea, he took me into his room, where he was
busy when I came to the door. He was
looking through his multiply ing-glasses at a
little insect he'd found among some seeds
just come over sea. He was drawing it;
"But," said he, "Til clear all this away,
and we'll sit and have a chat ; and I'll send
for your things, and tell them at the public-
house you're going to sleep here." I thanked
him, but begged him not to clear the table,

HIS WIFE. 81

but to let me see any thing and every
thing.

"Well," said he, "these are some seeds
my lady's son, who is in Australia with his
regiment, has sent me home. As soon as I
opened them, I saw there was mischief among
them ; so, you see, I put my little magnify -
ing-glass, which I always carry hung round
my neck, to my eye, and I soon found the
cause ; and now you look through that power-
ful glass at your elbow, and turn that screw
till you see something quite plain, and tell
me what it is."

" Why," said I, " 'tis like a crab, and
all alive too." "Well," said he, "there's
my drawing of it. Now those seeds have
come 15,000 miles in a ship, but whether
my friend was born on the voyage I cannot
tell ; but there he is, and that dust you see
among the seeds is the chips he has made.
But come, tea's ready by this time; and
we'll not go out of doors afterwards, but we'll
make a long evening of it."

So we went into the next room, and
there was his wife with the tea all before
her ; and she, too, gave me such a welcome,
that I felt easy in my chair directly. There

82 MY NEW FRIEND'S HOUSE.

was a little in her tongue that sounded like
coming from Scotland, and it was a pleasure
to see and hear her; for her simple kind
face told what a good and gentle heart was
shining in it. She was dressed, too, as
plain and neat as my own good wife, and
the last person she seemed to think of was
herself; all was about others, and wishing
to see that we did well at what was set be-
fore us. Said I to myself, "You've got the
right kind of partner here, my friend/' A
lad, too, came in out of the garden and sat
down with us. He had very little to say,
but I could see 'twasn't because he hadn't it
in him. After a hearty tea, for I was sharp
set, my friend went back to his little room,
and told his wife to show me their house
while he was busy for a few minutes.

I thought mine was a nice ' cottage at
Birdwood, and so it was ; but this was most
capital : a living-room, a best room, his own
little room, a kitchen and scullery on the
ground-floor, three bed-rooms, and a kind
of cupboard -room above, and down below
a good large cellar. It was in the park,
at the gardens' entrance-gate, and had two
small greenhouses close to it.

WHAT HE SHOWED ME. 83

By the time we'd gone over it he was
ready for me, and had me into an arm-chair
at his table ; and, dear me, what a deal he
showed me ! There was a plan for alteration
in the pleasure-gardens that was to be made :
it was all drawn out and coloured for his
lady to approve of ; then there was a lot of
drawings of fountains and vases for her to
choose from, and rustic seats, arbours, and
flower-baskets. Then he showed me a book
full of painted apples and pears and other
fruits, all to size of nature, as they had been
gathered from the standards, espaliers, and
off the walls, showing their differences. Then
he pulled out a fruit-book, in which he put
down every year the quantities of all kinds
gathered season after season, with his notes
about their keeping. He had got wax speci-
mens of potatoes grown in their ground,
modelled exactly, shape and eyes, the pink
kinds coloured to nature. He showed me,
too, dried plants, and wonderful drawings of
every kind of fern, all neatly put in books •
and, indeed, made me wish, for the first time
in my life, that I was a young man again,
I felt so ignorant, and saw so much to learn.
I was at home with most of the fruits and

84 MY BEDROOM AND BELONGINGS.

potatoes, but nowhere else ; and he surprised
me with his drawings of his seedling grapes,
his currants and gooseberries, his every thing,
indeed ; and he had all particulars about
weight, size, and quality, what was kept,
and what was done away with. Then he
had little samples of glass, of tiles, of sashes,
of boilers, of cocks and valves ; indeed, of
almost every thing he could want about the
gardens. And while he showed me all these,
he was so modest, and seemed so pleased to
explain to me every thing I wanted to know.
He saw how much I enjoyed it, and that I
made no pretences to be what I was not, but
that I was only a practical man.

We did not get to bed till near midnight,
after a bit of supper ; and then he put me
into a nice room, so well furnished, with all
the walls hung round with his own drawings
of many things ; and instead of a little bed
a fine large one, and all beautifully white
and clean ; with plenty of little pretty orna-
ments on the mantle-shelf, and a Bible and
Prayer-book on the dressing-table : just as
much as to say, There's the food, take or
leave it, as you please ; we've provided it for
those that'll relish it. As he bid me good

FIRST-RATE GARDENING. 85;

night, lie asked me if I shaved myself, " For
there's no barber hereabouts," said he ; " but
I can mow a chin on a pinch as well as a
lawn." " No, thank you," said I ; " no man
ever took me by the nose yet, and I must
not let you do so, I'm sure."

I begged him to call me when he went
out at six in the morning ; but I was up and
dressed all ready long before that, and look-
ing out of the window on one large walled-in
square of kitchen-garden : beautiful standards
here and there, espaliers at the path-sides,
and handsome trees trained on the walls.
The two greenhouses I could see, one under
each window, but only could tell they were full
of colour. I opened the door as I heard his
footstep, while the garden-bell was ringing,
and had a kind hearty "Good morning ;" and
down we went, and saw all the gardeners
and labourers come in, — and a very respect-
able-looking tidy lot they were ; and as they
passed us at his door, all said, " Good morn-
ing," which looked so pleasant. He gave
them his different orders as they passed, and
then he took me all round. It's no use
making many words about it, every thing
was first-rate; from the mould -yard to my

G

86 SOCIAL DOINGS.

lady's conservatory, there was not a spot from
one end to the other that had a sloven's cor-
ner in it. Ice-house, fruit-room, potatoe and
root store, every thing alike. Every tool was
numbered, and had to be returned to its
place ] or the man that didn't do so was
fined. I was a week there, and I never
spent a happier one. My new friend was so
kind, and wished me to see every thing, and
was never tired of answering my questions ;
and there never surely was a merrier man,
though he was a thoughtful one too, at times.
The first morning, before breakfast, he asked
me if I was ashamed to hear prayers read ;
and I said, " No, not a bit of it ;" so in came
the little maid, and he read part of a chap-
ter ; then we kneeled down, and he read a
prayer, asking God's blessing, for Christ's
sake, upon us and all dear to us, finishing
with the Lord's Prayer. It was like oiling
the wheels for a day's journey ; and what
a blessing, thought I, is such an example to
these two young people ! One of the morn-
ings, when my friend had to go from home
early, his wife took his place, and did the
duty just the same. I sha'n't soon forget her
voice and manner.

A TRUE HELPMEET. 87

Two of the evenings we had some music
and singing — pretty much Scotch, and here
I was at home ; and how the time did fly,
to be sure ! The last evening before I came
away, a friend of theirs came in, and we
finished off with " Auld Lang Syne ;" and
happy enough we were, tho' our " cup o*
kindness" was but a cup of tea; but then
'twas sweetened with the heartiest kindness,
as we took each other's hands all round, and
finished off for a farewell. We wanted no
stronger drink, and wished poor Burns had
loved no other. I know something of the
mischief drinking-songs do young people ;
it 's just dressing up a skeleton. Part of the
time I was with them, I wasn't very well,
and then I stopped indoors, and so had time
to see more of my friend's wife. They'd
been married four or five years, and had
no family ; and as she was very clever in
many ways, she was every thing to him.
She helped him in his writing and drawing
and making his models, and seemed quite
to live for him, and in him ; and shared all
his love of gardening, which was wonderful,
and made him a deal sought after by people
that wanted help in such matters. He'd

88 GENEROUS THOUGHT AND DEED.

chuckle sometimes over what he read in
gardening papers and books; and he once
showed me a paper, too learned for me to
understand, where a man thought he'd made
a wonderful discovery, and other people
thought so too, and he got more than praise
for it ; but my friend after a while upset the
whole thing, though he thought nothing
more of himself for doing it, but was pleased
that he'd saved gardening a deal of mis-
chief. He was so honest, too ; for when the
youngster that lived with them talked of the
writer, and called him a humbug, my friend
stopped him, and said he must not say so.
The author had been too quick, and hadn't
searched long enough, and been short of
patience ; and he bid the boy learn a lesson
from it, and not make a guess and then try
to prop it up, but go on thinking he might
be wrong till he proved himself right. " Be-
sides which," said he, laughing, "you ought
to speak well of him ; for if he hadn't made
his blunder, I shouldn't have won my credit."
It seemed this lad's parents wanted to make
him a first-rate gardener, which was what
he wanted himself, and so they sent him off
several hundred miles from home to learn

MODEST MERIT. 89

his business at this place. He'd corne of a
good stock, but it seemed to my friend and
his wife that it was running a great risk to
have him lodge in the town, and pick up
with one and another acquaintance ; and so,
though they were so happy together, rather
than see him do badly, or run a risk of it,
they'd made a home for him with them for
a while, till he'd seen more, and been shown
a little of what's what. Now what could be
kinder than that ? and it may be, and I hope
it will be, that some day he'll make such a
man as shall repay their goodness by being
what they 'd like to see him ; and perhaps
he may do some such kind thing for some-
body else, as a token of his not forgetting
what he owes them. While I was there, my
friend gave a lecture to the mechanics in the
town, and to any body else that chose to go
and pay for a seat. His wife was obliged to
stop at home ; but how her heart was with
him, for he'd never been so public before. I
went ; but said I to her, " Now don't you fret.
It's to be only an hour, and I'll sit near the
door, and directly it's over I'll run off, and
tell you all about how he's got through." It
was a great meeting, and a good many big-

90 GOOD-BYE, AND HOME TO BIRD WOOD.

wigs there too ; but every body listened as
if they begrudged losing a word : and all the
while he was speaking he was so simple and
so forgetful of himself, that I could but think
he'd have made a bishop. At his last word,
as the clapping began, I cut off ; and when I
got near the house, I saw the wife's head at
the window, and open came the gate. " All
right/' said I, " go in ; I'll tell you all about
it;" and wasn't she pleased? But she'd to
hear a deal more ; for, after I left, so many
stopped to tell him what they thought of his
success, that he was kept away a good bit
from getting home again to tell her all he
thought and felt.

Before I left, I sent a message in to his
lady to say that I was going home, and to
ask if there was any commands for the
squire, or any thing she wished to send
that way. I was had into her room, and
she kindly asked me how I had liked my
visit. I told her honestly what I thought of
every thing I had seen, and how happy I had
been. "Well," said she, "I am glad of it.
They are excellent people, and if I had no
more trouble about my place than they bring,
I should have none at all ; and it is all due to

FOOLISH NOTIONS OF FOOLISH MEN. 91

good principles ;" and then, giving me a few
little books, she bade me give her best re-
spects to the squire ; and I took my leave of
her, and soon after of my kind friends. He
shook me heartily by the hand, and said he
was glad I had paid ?em this visit ; and she
seconded all he had said. I'd nearly kissed
her ; for she had been so open and so kind,
that I felt as if I was bidding good-bye to a
daughter or a sister. I felt very dull as I
left the gate ; but when I was on the coach,
the wheels wouldn't go round half fast
enough, I wanted so much to get back to
my Birdwood again. Hasn't England some-
thing to be proud of in such gardeners? and
who can wonder at the place they take ?

I've often noticed men can talk a deal
better than they can think, and can measure
out other people's corn, and give good mea-
sure, and sell it cheap too. If bread's dear,
the farmer ought to be made to thresh out
his ricks, and send to market all the wheat
in his granary. If a man's poor, he ought
to be kept, and well too, never mind how he
got so, — the English of which is, that the
careful ought to keep the spendthrifts. Then,
again, what notions these kind of people

92 A COUNTRY WALK.

have about having a fresh start, and sharing
all things alike, and so on. Among these
talkers, I once knew a shoemaker and tailor.
They'd sit so long at the same stitch, stitch,
that their thinking went in one rut too, and
that always was, that if they weren't so well
off as other people, it was every body's fault
but their own ; and to this they'd stick, no-
thing would turn them. These two always
lost Monday, keeping away from their wives
and homes, and going any where but where
they should be, and minding every thing but
their proper business. I once saw them
basted with their own sauce, and it'll be
long before they forget it, I warrant. A
gentleman farmer, by bad management, had
got under the drip, and had to be sold up
root and branch. I had to go to the sale to
buy a few things for the squire, and my bro-
ther-gardener and best friend, Mac Pherson,
had to go too, to get a cow for his master.
It was fine May weather, .and we walked up
to Knip Knolls, that we might look at the
country and crops ; and to my thinking
there's no greater treat than a stroll thro'
rich lands and good farming. Our walk
made us peckish, and we went to a road-side

THE LEVELLERS. 93

inn, hard by the place of sale, to get some-
thing to eat ; and who should we first see,
amongst a lot more that were there only
losing their time, but this shoemaker and
tailor, out as usual, for it was a Monday.
We called for bread-and-cheese, and whilst
we were eating it they opened out their old
budget about the shame it was things were
so unequal : some so rich, and some so poor ;
some with so much land, and so many with
none ; and some such great folks that they
scorned the like of them, tho' the rich were
beholden to 'em for shoes and clothes ; and
wishing things was the same as in America,
where they was as they ought to be. What
the one said the other swore to ; above all,
they agreed that there ought to be in Eng-
land a fresh start, and that no man ought to
have more of God's earth than another, and
nothing would be right till all was shared
out afresh. Mac and I had heard all this so
often that we didn't care to answer, but went
on with our bread-and-cheese, till they took
off, and ordered a rump-steak and onions;
and very particular they seemed about hav-
ing it cooked with a bit of butter and dust
of pepper, for they were knowing fellows in

94 SAUCE FOR GOOSE, SAUCE FOR GANDER.

such matters, and proud of it too. By and
by it was ready, and put on the table close
by us ; but the tailor had gone to gossip with
the people outside that had come to the sale,
so the shoemaker went off to look after him,
and in no good humour either. As soon as
his back was turned, Mac whips off the cover,
takes half the steak, divides it between him
and me, and began eating away, whilst I
could not think what he was at. Presently
in they came, and seeing what we were do-
ing, they began abusing us most unmerci-
fully. I will say I felt very foolish, till Mac
said to them, " What's the matter? did ye
no say we ought all to begin again, and share
and share alike ? We've only done what
ye've been sae lang advising. Our bread-
and- cheese was all gone, and we'd cum
roun' to your way o' thinkin', and thought
we'd make a beginning at once ; so we've
taken our share." But nothing of that kind
of argument would suit them now, not a bit
of it. They tried to hide how foolish they
felt, but could not do it, tho' Mac went and
ordered more, and paid for it, and as we went
away said to them, " Dinna ding me ony mair
wi' your clavers about starting afresh, and

A GREAT DINNER. 95

sharing and sharing all alike, ye gomeralls,
ye. When it comes hame to yoursels, ye see
clear eneugh what fools ye are ; and now take
my advice, and wark o' Mondays like other
folks, and drink less and chatter less, and
ye'll hae mair for the wife and bairns."

I always liked a look at any thing that's
going on, whether among gentle or simple.
One day, when I went to the county-town,
the landlord at the Crown and Sceptre told
me there. was to be a grand dinner at his
house in honour of the Colonel, as they called
him, for something he'd done in parish-mat-
ters in our parts. I knew the landlord very
well, and asked him if he could give me a
sight of it. " Yes, to be sure," said he, " if
you'll stand at the side-board ; but your
master's to be one of the party." "I don't
mind that," said I; " for I know if I ask
him he'll not say no." So when he came
into the inn-yard in his carriage, I spoke to
him about it, and he gave me leave to stay ;
"But," said he, u you'd better keep out of
sight; for you'll make but a poor waiter,
Gregory." It was the largest dinner-table
I ever saw set out, and covered with silver
and glass, a deal of which had been lent the

96 THE DINNER.

landlord, who was to have a guinea a-piece
for every ticket that was sold, whether peo-
ple came or not. The company all got toge-
ther in a large room, and chatted away till
the soup and fish were on table; when in
they came, and no trouble about seats, for
every gentleman's name was on a piece of
paper, and put on his plate. An old gene-
ral, who lived just by, was in the chair,
with a lot of medals like crown-pieces on
his breast, which was padded o.ut like a
pouter pigeon's, and told of the wars he'd
been in. The colonel — he'd been in the
militia — was on his right, and a clergyman
on his left, who, long before the noise of
seating the company was over, said grace;
but with so little in it like being thankful,
that I thought if it had been a charity- din-
ner, and the poor people hadn't' said thank
ye better than that, it ought to have been
taken away again. The waiters knew their
business, and almost before people were in
their seats off came the covers ; and there
was as pretty a buzz heard all over the room
as when a hive of bees think of swarming.
Eating and drinking' s pretty much the same
with all sorts ; and as the dinner went on,

THE DINNER. 97

it was fine fun to me to see how eager some
were after the best cuts of the venison ; how
they kept calling " Waiter !" so eagerly, all
the while giving a glance at the joint as it
was shrinking away ; and then, when they
got a slice, how they turned it over, and
looked pleased or sour, just as it was a good
or poor one. Some seemed pretty much'
lookers on, and our squire was one ; there
he sat, as calm as a judge, hob-a-nobbing to
one and another, letting the champagne go
by, and always filling his glass out of a
black bottle by him. But, dear me, every
body liked him so much, and he had so
many healths to drink at dinner, that I felt
glad he had not to go home on horseback,
but in his carriage; for I thought he'd
never keep sober, and so I told the landlord.
" Never fear for him," says he ; " it's only
toast-and-water he's got, though 'tis in a
French bottle ;" and glad enough I was to
hear it.

After the cloth was taken away, instead
of grace after meat, three London singers
got up and gave the company Non nobis
Domine, in a way that pleased the company
a deal more than it did God, I'll venture to

98 THE DINNER.

say, if I may guess from what I heard the
same men sing afterwards, when the bottle
had been pretty busy. After the toasts
that's first given at all such dinners, the
old general gave a speech that wanted a
pair of crutches as much as he did himself,
— for he'd been a doer, not a speaker, — and
' finished off with the colonel's health. Then
he had to speak, but he couldn't make out
much better; but how the company did
cheer ! for he was a wonderful favourite
with every body, and rich and poor all
said it was a pity he was so old. The clat-
ter and noise wouldn't have stopped as soon
as it did, only after every toast there was a
song ; and there was loud calls for silence
for the " Old English Gentleman." When
that was finished, the noise was worse than
ever; and the landlord began to 'get all the
borrowed things off the table, changing
them for his own, for fear they'd be broken.
But what beat all in my eyes was when the
" Church and Constitution" was given. I
could but 'think the Church had need of a
good constitution, if it was to stand such a
racket as was brought about it after it was
drunk. The clergyman had to answer to

THE DINNER. 99

this ; and, bless me, how he went on prais-
ing the colonel, as he looked at him as if
he'd no more modesty than a monument,
and had never a drop of blood to come up
into his face in the way of a blush ! I won-
dered the colonel did not get up and tell
him he was but a poor simple bit of flesh
and blood, and that he'd forgot himself, and
wasn't in his pulpit praising his Maker ; and
so I said to the landlord. "But," says he,
" let him alone ; he knows what he's about ;
he knows the colonel likes it. "We've all a
weak spot in our noddles, and that's his;
and, you see, some little time back, an old
gentleman that had the living fall into his
gift handed it over to the colonel, for him
to give away as he liked, and he gave it to
him that's speaking." As soon as the par-
son had done, the colonel rose again — just
to say a word or two ; but there was such a
noise — such hurraing, stamping, and clap-
ping— that it minded me of Herod ; and glad
I felt that I wasn't the colonel, for I should
have been mightily afraid of being, like him,
eaten of worms and dying ; for I'm sure
the company seemed as if they thought it
the voice of a god, and not of a man.

100 THOUGHTS ON THE DINNER.

After a while the better part left the
table, and went into another room for cof-
fee; but a many stopped to hear the London
singers, who seemed quite as ready to sing
dirty songs as the company that was left
was to listen and laugh and cheer. It was
late before the squire came away, and I
waited; for he'd told me to ride home be-
hind the carriage, and send the boy back
with the light cart.

As I kept walking about the inn-yard,
waiting to go home, I saw the company
leave, and it set me thinking a good deal ;
for I turned some of 'em in my mind into
poor men, and thought what a deal would
have been said about them and their noise,
and the money they'd been wasting in drink,
that ought to have been spent in better
ways. And like master, like man ; for I
saw a pretty many servants that, if the
horses hadn't had more sense in their
brains than the drivers had got left in
theirs, more would have slept in the ditches
than in their beds that night. • Our coach-
man said it didn't end there; for many a
poor horse, after rough riding or driving,
would have to put up with very little but

ANDREWS IN TROUBLE. 101

abuse and bad commons when they got
home ; " For drink," said he, " is a very
devil to poor horses and other animals, as
well as to men." When I got inside my
cottage, what a little heaven it seemed, after
what I'd left behind and seen that night !

When I got into breakfast one morning,
my wife said to me, " There's the constable
been up looking for you ; for Andrews's in
trouble, and he sent you a message to say
that he hoped you'd go down and see him."
" Give me a bit in my hand," said I, u and
I'll go at once." But she persuaded me to
get my breakfast ; " For," said she, " you'll
have time to collect your thoughts a bit;
and you never do any good being in such a
hurry." Well, as soon as I'd done, I went
into the village, and found the constable
getting ready to take him before the magis-
trate. I asked him to leave me alone with
him till he was ready to start ; but he took
care to lock me in with him, which I told
him he need not have done, for I'd be an-
swerable for his not running away. " Mr.
Gregory," said he, "I never trust myself;
so you may be sure I trust nobody else.
' Safe bind, safe find' 's my maxim ; and

H

102 GOOD FRUIT DESERVES CARE.

if it's unpleasant to hear the key turn on
you, and make you feel a prisoner, you'll
find it like music to hear the bolts shoot
back again when I let you out."

"Now, Andrews," said I, "what's all
this about ? When you worked under me,
scold you as I might, I never had to say
you told me a lie." " No," said he, " and
I won't do so now. I've stole some of my
master's coals, and there's no denying it ;
and all I want you to do is to come and
say a word for me before the Bench ; for
I'm sure to be committed, and shall have
to appear to-morrow." " Well," said I,
" that I'll do ; and it's no use our talking
more now, for here's the constable coming ;
but I must have you tell me all about it,
and I'll see you again this evening if I can,
and if you're sent to the cage."

This Andrews was a man that had worked
in our grounds partly, and partly at the
house — a kind of odd hand — sometimes here
and sometimes there; and he wasn't quite
as nice as he should have been about little
things, helping himself to fruit off the walls,
or the like. I once had a good talk with
him about it ; and this was what brought it

WRONG NOTIONS ON COMMON THINGS. 103

on. The squire ordered me to send to a
family a little way off some grapes and wall-
fruit, for a party they were going to have.
I sent it by him in one of my boxes, and
locked up, as I always did send it every
where ; for I can't bear to have my fruit
dished up with all the bloom off it. And I
sent the key in a letter to the footman, tell-
ing him how to put it on table, so as to be a
credit to me; for nothing's so vexing to a
gardener as to have it handled, as if it was
all the better for being rubbed about like a
parcel of oranges, which, without you tell
'em not, half the servants will do. I found
I'd left out some nectarines by mistake ; and
so I looked Andrews up, to go back again,
and I found him very busy over some cold
fowl and a great piece of fine ham. " Where
did you get that?" said I. "They gave it
to me at Woodside," he said. " Well, An-
drews," says I, " you know I'm no meddler
in other people's matters ; and if I say a
word, and ask a question, you must take it
in good part ; for it's no use being offended.
Did the mistress give it you, or the maid ?"
"Why," said he, "the cook did." " Then,"
said I, " you shouldn't have taken it, that

104 LITTLE TEMPTATIONS YIELDED TO

I know." " How can you know that,?" said
he. " Come," said I, " a word will settle it.
How did you bring it away? — openly in
your hand, or how?" He was still a mi-
nute ; then he said, " I may as well say at
once, you're right ; for she bid me let no-
body see it.77 I didn't know then that the
cook and he kept one another's company.
" Now, Andrews," said I, "I'll be as honest
with you. The old footman has often told
me that his mistress is one of the kindest
and best of women ; but she will give every
thing away herself, and she says that none
of her servants have any more right to take
her victuals and give it away than she has
to go to their boxes and take their money or
clothes to give to the poor, or what not.
And she's quite right, too; and it's a pity
such kind people shouldn't have 'honest ser-
vants about them." I saw he was out of
temper about it, and couldn't account for
it till I heard afterwards that they were
sweethearts; but I kept on, and said I,
" Take care, Andrews; you know I've often
told you about taking my wall-fruit. It
seems a little thing, but you'll find it isn't :
'tis just like cutting a little bit of a gap in

BRING ON GREAT ONES. 105

the bank of our high pond ; it will get big-
ger and bigger in ordinary times; bnt if
the spring comes down a bit stronger after
heavy rain, the bank would go down alto-
gether. It will be so with you, if you don't
take care ; for some great temptation may
come, and then look out." "!No fear of
that," said he. "Well," said I, " you'll
go back again with the nectarines, and I
don't care if you tell the cook what I say ;
and mind this, if ever you want a bit of
fruit, ask me, and if it's right you shall be
sure and have it ; but don't you be so silly
as to meddle and help yourself to any thing
that doesn't belong to you. And if you'll take
my advice, you'll never take any thing again
of any house-servant without first knowing
whether their masters or mistresses allow
of it ; for, I can tell you, it's not a bit better
than stolen goods ; and it's a pity people
should be so foolish as to try and mako
themselves believe that there's no harm in
taking other people's victuals, though they'd
call it thieving if it was clothes, or any thing
else."

In the evening, down I went again to
the cage, and then Andrews told me all about

106 ANDREWS FINDS IT SO.

the trouble he'd got into. " "When I got the
place down at the Canal "Wharf," said he,
"you know I married the cook at Wood-
side ; and if we'd been more careful, we
might have done very well, for I'd good
wages. But we went along too fast for
working-people, though, from my wife's ac-
count, it was a strange coming- down to her,
that had had the best of living in her place.
But I don't blame her at all, for I might
have seen it wouldn't be easy to leave such
a way of living as she'd been used to. When
she was put to bed and I had the doctor to
pay, and things to buy for the child, I began to
find it out ; and by the time we'd three chil-
dren, we got back a good deal: and so you'd
have said if you'd come our way and looked
in, which I was glad you didn't ; for I've
often thought of what you told me in by-
gone days. When it cost us more to live, I
couldn't earn any more ; and little by little I
began to take one thing and another, — some-
times a little bit of corn for our pig, or a
bit of coal, — and at last master found me out
taking some in a bag."

When he'd done, said I, " I don't see
how I can help you ; for what can I say

MASTERS MAKE MEN. 107

about a man that's robbed a good master
that's paid him good wages ?" " "Well,"
said he, " that's partly true and partly not ;
for there's a pretty many tricks goes on at
that canal side that'll make the honestest of
men thieves for their masters, if not for
theirselves — like giving short measure and
light weight." " Come, Andrews," said I,
" that won't do now; nobody will believe
you if it's ever so true ; you should have
said that before you were caught, so you
may as well hold your tongue about it;
and take my advice, and when you're be-
fore the Bench say nothing, and then per-
haps your master will say a word for
you; and I'll go over, and, if I can, I'll
say a word myself, if the squire won't ob-
ject."

In the evening, one of Andrews' mates
comes up to my cottage, and says, "If you'll
not turn upon me, I'll tell you how to help
him a bit out of the trouble. There's a ton
of coals in our cart, and master's told us to
make it easy for the horse, as he calls it, and
he stood by all the time we loaded. The
people they're for sent word to put off send-
ing 'em for a day or two ; and if you can

108 ANDREWS AND HIS MASTER

get somebody you know to order a load, and
only weigh 'em, you'll find our master out ;
for he's a big fool to think he can serve a
man out that way for doing only a little for
himself what he makes us do every day for
him, when he thinks he won't be caught."
" Now," said I, " don't make a fool of me."
" Never fear," said he; " it's all right." The
jobbing man that bought cows and things for
the squire lived close by; and I went to him
and put him up to taking the order over,
and to make sure and get the load I'd told
him of; and so he did, for next morning in
came the coals. When the carter asked him
where he was to put 'em, " In my scales,"
says he, " first" (and he hooked up his calf-
scales), " and then up in that corner." The
carter was master's man all over, and tried to
get off this; but these dealing-cliaps, what
with going to fairs and bargaining, why
there's nobody a match for them, with the
tongue ; and so weigh 'em he must, and
there was pretty well two cwt. short. " 111
fetch the rest up," says the carter. " Yery
well," says the dealer ; and when he'd shut
the gates, he said to me, who was waiting
out of sight, " We'll fetch him up ; and now

BEFORE THE BENCH. 109

you jump in my cart, and 111 drive you over
to the Bench/'

After Andrews' master had laid his com-
plaint against him, and just as he was asked
what he had to say for himself, up jumps
the dealer, and says, " I beg your worship's
pardon for being so bold, but maybe you'd
not sentence him till I've said a word."
"To be sure not," said the chairman ; "if
you're a witness, let us hear what you have
to say; but he said he had no witnesses."
" "Why," says the dealer, edging up along-
side the prisoner, "I don't know that I've
much to say for him ; but I want to lay a
complaint against his master for selling short
weight, and so robbing people and making
his servants thieves." " Stand down," said
his worship ; " that has nothing to do with
this case ;" and then there was a bit of whis-
pering among the magistrates, and laying
their heads together, and then the chairman
told the constable to take Andrews down,
for sentence was put off a little. There was
no other case, and then the dealer had his
say, and told all about the coals he had had
in, and how short weight they were ; and
he wanted the justices to tell him what he

110 FLOWER-SHOWS OF THE

was to do in this matter. All the while he
was speaking, Andrews' master kept chang-
ing colour like a maid at a marriage ; and
when he was told to explain the thing, he
went on finely against the dealer, and asked
if they'd take the word of a man that lived
by taking people in with lame horses and
sick cows, and never told the truth only by
mistake. But that wouldn't do for the jus-
tices, and so they granted a warrant against
Andrews' master to appear next bench-day ;
but not before he'd said that he didn't want
to be hard upon Andrews, who was sent to
gaol for a month. Next bench-day his mas-
ter had to pay a fine ; but where's the jus-
tice of that, I should like to know ? Why
shouldn't master have gone to gaol as well
as man ? They were both thieves, and of
the pair the master was the worst ; and it's
my belief, too, that half the men that's found
out, like Andrews, either learn roguery of
their masters, or, if they're bad, are made
worse by them.

If there's one place where gardeners and
their masters, and amateurs, show off worse
than another, it's at a flower-show. When
we first got up a society in our parts, it was

OLD COUNTRY SORT. Ill

only among a few little people ; and it was
only for such things as Polyanthuses, Au-
riculas, Pinks, Carnations, Picotees, and Pan-
sies. "Well, the job was to find judges ; and
when we got ?em, they pleased nobody but
those who had the prizes : they said how
lucky we were to get such clever men ; the
others said there wasn't a judge amongst
'em. And then to hear the talk when we
got over our pipes and pots after the show ;
and to see the sly old landlord, who was one
that showed too, — how he'd come in when
we'd got settled down a bit, and set us by
the ears about our pips and pastes and
lacings, and full flowers and thin ones — the
old fox, he knew well enough the pot never
empties so fast as when the tongue gets
dry with arguing. Dear me, I've known a
pretty deal of his small beer turned into
strong at such times, doing what he called
double duty —

Sobering the brains,
And helping his gains.

But after a while the gentry got up a society,
which swamped the little ones like ours with
its two-and-sixpenny prizes. But, with all the
talk, it was pitiful work ; for there was just

112 CHISWICK EXHIBITION.

as much jealousy among our betters as among
us, that wanted a better example. One that
lost wouldn't let his gardener show again ;
and another found fault because his man
wasn't put first, instead of last; and then
the prizes, such as they were, not being paid
till next year, and one thing and another,
made my master and me only lookers-on. I
must say one thing, that the gardeners and
little people made things worse than they
might have been ; for they 'd fall so by the
ears in the room when the company came in,
and some of 'em smelt so of drink, that a good
many kept away that would have paid to
have come in and seen the flowers and vege-
tables. We might have had a fine show, if
our gentry would have followed our squire
as he would have led. He wanted them to
subscribe tens of pounds a-piece, and raise a
handsome sum, and put it to interest, and so
have some prize-money always in hand; and,
by way of example, he offered a hundred
pounds to begin with ; but nobody would
follow, though they'd spend twice as much
on the subscription pack of hounds, or a
ball. But, talking of shows and gardening,
there's no place like London and thereabouts

MEET A FRIEND THERE. 113

for both; and before I'd lose such a sight, if
I was a young man, I'd walk every foot of
the way, that I would !

When I went up to London, the squire
got me an order, so that I might go to Chis-
wick early on the show-day, and see the
plants put up in their places ; and I never
could have believed any body that had told
me all I saw with my eyes that day. I
seemed lost in a wood of plants, as I walked
about in the tents, where the gardeners put
them down before they began to stage them :
— and such a set of men, too ; why, their
helpers were better dressed and better man-
nered than the head men in our parts ; and
yet, when I asked a question now and then
of some of 'em, they didn't seem to want for
conceit. As good luck would have it, I met
a gardener that lived once not far from Bird-
wood, and had left to go into a London nur-
sery. I should not have known him, but he
made me out ; and very kind he was. After
all the plants were staged, and it wasn't
till just before ten, — and I'd got to Turnham
Green by six, — my friend said, " I wish I
could get you a ticket for breakfast ; but I
have got so little here, I know Doctor Lind-

114 I RUN AGAINST THE DOCTOR.

ley won't give me one for you." "Oh," said
I, "I'll ask him myself." "You'd better
not," said he ; " for you 11 get no ticket, and
like enough something from him that'll serve
you instead of a breakfast." Says I, ' i There ?s
not a man's face on earth that I'm afraid of.
I Ve often heard of the Doctor, and read a deal
more ; and now I'll have a look and a word
for myself, if you'll just show him to me."
" Come along," says he, and away we went.
After a longish hunt, he showed me a gentle-
man sitting on a stool under a tree, with a
walking-stick in his hand, and a pair of spec-
tacles on his nose ; and said he, " That's the
Doctor." " Thank you," said I ; "and now
wait a minute for me." So I went up, and
lifted my hat, breaking ground, as my poor
father, when he was soldiering, would have
called it. " Well," said he, " what do you
want ?" "I should thank you, sir," said I,
"for a breakfast-ticket, for I'm a stranger,
and a long way from home." " "What have
you brought, gardener?" "Nothing, sir,"
said I, " but myself; but I have sent some-
thing," said I, " before to-day; but not to
these shows :" and I showed him a silver
medal I had had sent me, through my mas-

TWO SIDES TO ALL QUESTIONS. 115

ter, for a basket of fruit. " These break-
fast-tickets," said he, "are for exhibitors and
helpers only ; but I will give you one : and
there/' said he, handing me another, " that
will admit you after one o'clock 5 for it is
not often I see so much of the country as
you have brought with you." He looked
me all over, — at my knee corduroys, my
leather gaiters, and at my canary waistcoat
and long blue coat with metal buttons, and
then into my face, as if he'd have burnt a
hole in it, — all the while asking me ques-
tions, and wetting his fingers at his lips,
and then running them over the cards in
his hand. As soon as he stopped, I lifted
my hat, thanked him, and bid him good
morning ; but not before Fd heard him re-
fuse tickets to two gardeners running — one
because his plants were not all in their
places, or all to rights, and to the other
because he was so dirty and untidy. As
they walked away by my side, they did
abuse him, I tell you ; talking loud on pur-
pose for me to hear. But my friend soon
came to me ; and how he did chuckle at my
good luck, as he called it ! " "Well," said I,
"you see none of us are so bad as we're some-

116 GARDENERS AND THEIR PUBLIC BREAKFAST.

times made out; and now what I've thought
all along I'm sure's right. If he's been
down on the gardeners, like he was on the
two you saw with me coming away from
him, there's been faults on both sides, de-
pend on it." " You' re right there, Gre-
gory," said he, "and that's the truth; and
you never saw people so improved in your
life as we gardeners are ; and so you'll say
when we get to the breakfast-room. Come
along." I said it to their faces, and I'll
say it behind their backs, that I wouldn't
have believed there was such a set of gar-
deners as I saw there that day, and the
young ones in particular. They'd have
been none the worse for a little less of Jack
Brag, and a little less talk about " my go-
vernor," and " my old man," and " my old
lady," when they spoke about their employ-
ers; for I like to see a man speak with
respect of those he serves. They rubbed
me a pretty deal when we got free and easy
after breakfast ; but my friend said there
was always a deal of " chaff" at such times
and in such talk ; and I quite believed him
from what I heard. But, dear me, what a
breakfast we had, and what a pleasant sight

REGENT'S PARK SHOW. 117

to see such care taken for gardeners ! and
then to see them when the company came,
how different they behaved to what our
country sort do ! Why, they walked about
amongst the gentry ; and I never so much as
saw any body look at any of them, as much
as to say, Keep farther off, you gardener.

There was no stopping before the plants,
and arguing, and all that kind of thing we
see in the country ; and I laid a pretty deal
of it to the Doctor's treading so hard on their
toes, and so making 'em keep moving. My
friend said he thought it might be so, though
he needn't have showed them up so hard;
and they'd never forgive him for it, and
calling them " practicals." " That's silly
enough, too," said I, " after the medicine's
cured you, to take offence at the doctor."

What with the flowers, and the com-
pany, and the music, and the place, I never
was so glad as when I got back to London.

A few days after, I went to the show at
the Eegent's Park, and very grand it was,
and the gardens wonderfully fine for such a
smoky spot. When I had seen all I could
of the plants, before the tents got crowded,
I took a seat, and watched my fellow-crea-

i

118 VANITY TICKLED.

tures, and that's no small amusement ; and
I saw a pretty many gardeners, too, enjoying
the sight. Indeed, who could but look at
those who came dressed out on purpose to be
looked at. If looking at 'em pleased 'em, it
would be selfish not to do it, especially when
they couldn't learn your thoughts ; and so
you couldn't hurt their feelings, think what
you would. To admire costs you nothing,
and perhaps it gratified them, just as I once
saw a young gentleman act on the top of a
coach near London. It was stopping to take
up, when a young blade rode by on a horse,
sitting in his saddle just in a way that
seemed to say, "Look here, every body." The
young chap I speak of caught his eye, and
bowed, and lifted his hat off his head to him.
The horseman gave the bow back. "Do
you know that fellow ?" his friend that was
beside him said. " Oh, no," said he ; "but I
thought it would please him, and it cost me
nothing." So one man had his vanity tickled,
and half-a-dozen of us that saw and heard
were made mighty merry at nobody's ex-
pense ; for the young blade neither saw or
heard our merriment, and so rode on, well
pleased at the notice he'd got.

CONCLUSION.

YOUNG gardeners, think of this : the man
we've all come from, he was a gardener ;
therefore we've a right to say that ours is a
noble business, for 'twas the first ever fol-
lowed. He was set to gardening for plea-
sure ; but he made a grand mistake, lost his
place, and had afterwards to work for his liv-
ing. He laid all his misfortunes to his wife,
and that added to his disgrace ; and it's my
belief, from what I've learnt of a good wife,
she would not have tried to get out of trou-
ble, as he did, by saying, "My husband's
to blame," if he'd committed the first fault.
However, if she made the breach, through
her came He who has repaired it ; and when
we think of this, we may all work on, and
ought to find pleasure in our labour. If the
thorns and thistles will grow, yet we are well
repaid for the sweat of our brow by keeping
?em down ; just the same as 'tis in our hearts :
all kinds of evil things spring up there, every

120 CONCLUSION.

body knows that ; but our business is to keep
hard at the weeds ; we may down with 'em,
but look out, for they're always ready to come
up again, and it'll be so to the end of the
chapter. If any of you think you are men
enough to do this of yourselves, you're
mightily mistaken. But you're promised
help; and you'll find it in a book more
worth reading than any other, tho' it may
lay on your shelves and be never looked at,
and, if your house is untidy, be covered with
dust. Now what I want us all to do is, to
read this book just as we read the gardening
ones, and, while we work away in our gar-
dens, abide by its " calendar of operations" for
working at the heart. It's a shame such a
book should be so neglected.

Don't read it alone ; first get a good wife,
if you haven't one, and while she is at work
read to her and your children, if you have
any. Don't make a task-book of it, and,
take my word for it, there'll be something
wrong in yourselves if you don't find in it
comfort in sorrow, support in honest poverty,
something to keep you humble if you are
prosperous, and free from pride if you are
successful ; something to make you careful

CONCLUSION. 121

how you speak of the faults of others, be-
cause you'll know so much of your own. It
will teach you to lend others a helping hand,
and to take help gratefully, if you ever need
it. It'll make you respectful to your em-
ployers, and will get you respect from them ;
and when you've roughed it through life, —
and Fve known what it is to rough it as well
as any of you, — it will give you a hope
that'll grow stronger and stronger the older
you grow.

Good bye ; I heartily wish you all well,
and that you'll make a deal better man
every way than your true friend,

JAMES GREGORY.

LONDON :

PRINTED BY LEVEY, RORSON, AND FRANRLYN,
Great New Street and Fetter Lane.

VB 10008

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