COTTAGE GARDENS.
THE lover of flowers has but to walk through the dreary miles of streets lined with brick houses—each one its neighbour's twin, flush with the street, and guiltless of any attempt at aught beyond mere utility—that form the artisan quarter of our larger towns, fully to realise the debt of grati- tude he owes to the cottage gardens which are such a charm- ing feature of our rural scenery. True, the picturesque
thatched dwellings to which they were originally an adjunct are diminishing daily ; some are dropping into decay because landlords refuse to expend money on the ancient tenements, that are between two and three hundred years old; others are being pulled down to make way for latter-day abominations equally unsatisfactory to look at or to inhabit, possessing a slate roof which the sun smiths remorselessly in summer, and walls a brick and a half thick that afford slight protection against winter frosts. Yet something may be done in the way of adornment with even these products of civilisa- tion, and the red building strikes a not unpleasant note of warm colour amid the landscape when time and creepers have combined to mellow its pristine crudeness. To many of the villagers "naked" walls are odious, and they " shun " — cover up — the bricks or whitewashed rubble with greenery of one kind or another. Should nothing else be available, they will dig a root of wild honeysuckle from a neighbouring thicket and plant it beside the cottage door, where under its improved conditions of life it grows freely and develops into a "girt buzzlin' thing." Ivy is not popular for this purpose on account of its supposed tendency to harbour " naesty craewlin' insectis," but clematis Jackmanni and roses, particularly the white and crimson rambler, are much sought after. Such choicer kinds as the Gloire de Dijon and Marechale Niel are also patronised, but only by the fortunate few who can afford luxuries. The space allotted to flowers in the cottage garden is, as a rule, under the guardianship of the house-mother, who not infrequently has to fight a tough battle for the preservation of her rights, the little plot of ground being a kind of Naboth's vineyard, which the husband would fain annex wherein to grow vegetables. "My 'usban"ud like to pull all they up," remarked a labourer's wife, "yes, he 'ud like to have 'um out by the roots an' sow his carrots an' turmuts in their place.
• What good be your flowers?' he sez, "us cassn't yet [eat] they.' I tells him they're good to look out; that our eyes did ought to be used, as well as our mouths, an' that we didn't ought to be allus thiukin' o' eatin'." This woman was an enthusiast. She went on to declare with evident sincerity that she could gaze at her flowers all day long,—" they are sa wonderful an' ther' is sa much in 'um, when you comes to study 'um. As for hurtin' or breakin' a plant, well ther', I couldn't do it ! 'Twud seem downright cruel." There is a genuine, though often dumb and inarticulate, love of Nature in the so-called lower orders, which is perhaps more developed among the women than the men. "Oh, how I should love to see them beautiful mountains ! It do seem hard as I shall never ha' the chance," was the exclamation that broke involuntarily from one of the former on being shown some photographs of Alpine scenery. It is this feeling which finds expression in the loving care they bestow on their flowers. Each plant in the small area. under their charge is individually known and tended. "Some folks worship gold; I worships flowers," was a village mother's sentiment ; "if arra-one wants to please me, they needn't give me money, for I'd a deal sooner have a plant, even if 'tis on'y a little 'un." And in truth a cutting of some flower is highly appreciated. One woman showed with pride a fuchsia which hung from a basket in the window of the "back room," and explained that she had been compelled to hide its beauties thus away because when it dwelt in the publicity of the front kitchen, so many neighbours had begged for slips that it bade fair to be given away altogether. Its career had been somewhat event- ful; for when in its full vigour, the proud parent of no fewer than forty-six blossoms, an intrusive heifer that was roaming the green outside put her bead through the casement, which happened by chance to be open, and ate the plant to the root; it recovered from this untoward accident, however, and lived to supply half the village with small fuchsias. It should be added that the heifer so relished the dainty that she desired more; and in search thereof marched through the house to the garden beyond, where she browsed happily upon cabbages and dahlias until discovered and driven incontinently forth.
The vicissitudes of fashion in floriculture remind the writer of those primitive weather-gauges which years ago used to adorn every cottage interior. They were made of grey, crusted cardboard and shaped to represent a Gothic porch from which emerged, when the sun sL, ae, a female figure in bonnet and shawl, the gentleman, with a chivalry which would,
we fear, be little appreciated in these days of athletic women, reserving the bad weather for his own walks abroad. So, when annuals were " in " at the Hall, perennials were cultivated at the cottage ; and now that every self-respecting upper-class garden boasts its "herbaceous border," the rustics appear to have transferred their allegiance to tubers and annuals. Jacob's-ladder, Aaron's-rod, and London-pride have vanished to make way for begonias and asters. True, sweet lavender, which will never be out-of-date, and gilly-flowers still shed their fragrance through the village ; but in the same plot may be seen phlox Drummondi, gaillardias, French marigolds, stocks, dahlias, sweet-peas, and other similar flowers that require to be planted out year by year. It is wonderful how many -varieties an ingenious gardener will contrive to cram, without undue crowding, into a small area. The writer has counted in one patch of ground less than four yards square twenty. eight different kinds of plants and flowers, the majority summer products, though all four seasons were repre- sented. In this garden, annuals, which the penny packets of seeds with their bright wrappers have done so much to popularise, bore off the palm ; perennials, however, such as white campanulas, irises, and monkshood, made a goodly show. This last is called by the villagers the "dove-flower," because "if you pulls the cap back you can see Noah's dove as brought 'un the leaf,"—a rather amusing variant of the name "Venus's-chariot-drawn-by- doves," by which it is known to the children at the Hall. Southernwood, too, found a place in the sunny corner which brick buildings sheltered from every breeze save the soft south wind,—southernwood, that "with brandy," as was significantly added, forms the gipsies' favourite medicine. And because the goodwife feared the limited space below would hinder the free development of her two begonias, she raised them on roughly carved blocks of wood, where they threw out leaves and blossoms to their hearts' content. The whole was surrounded by a neat elder fence which a mouse might have jumped with ease, and was a source of infinite pride to the owner and of pleasure to the passer-by. Occasionally one meets with really artistic schemes of colour in these rustic gardens : a border of crimson anemones and white wild hyacinths, backed by golden wallflowers, was very effective ; another of white irises and yellow tulips was delightful to the eye ; while a third, where sulphur-tinted wallflowers lay against others of rich blood-brown hue, betrayed at least originality. For window plants, without which a house would be deemed low indeed in the village social scale, geraniums of every variety are most extensively patronised. Fuchsias, as already shown, calceolarias, and pelargoniums also flourish on the sill, owing, it is said, to the tea with which they are watered, and the absence of draughts: for though cottage-doors are seldom shut, the casements of the living-rooms are still seldomer opened. The poor are not niggardly as regards their blos. o us; on the occasion of a festival like a wedding, or the harvest- thanksgiving, or, yet more, a funeral, they will raid their flower-beds with no unsparing hand. The only exception to this rule that the writer can recall was in the case of an old man who held strongly the doctrine that it is more blessed to receive than to give. By some means or other, into which it were perhaps well not to inquire too closely, he became possessed of a number of dahlia tubers, which when in bloom made a blaze of colour round his tumble-down dwelling. Not a single blossom, however, would he spare, save for " a con- sideration," to church or friend,—rather should they fade on their stalks. When he died it was discovered that his parish allowance and the money he had received in charity had enabled him to save over 212.
"When parson 'gins the Bible 'tis time to sow the beans." Thus runs the homely proverb ; and lengthening evenings see labourers, their farm work done, buoy in garden and allot- ment, planting, sowing, dibbling. A paternal Government has not yet brought in a Bill for the protection of mankind against wild birds, but it is to be hoped the measure will not be long delayed ; otherwise the gardener will run some danger of being exterminated. As it is, his labour too often profits only his feathered foes. Rooks dig up and devour his seed potatoes, jays regale themselves upon his peas and beans, bullfinches strip the fruit trees of their buds, anal should per- chance a few of these escape the misel2ievons beaks and reach
maturity in the shape of apple, plum, or pear, they provide dessert for blackbirds and thrushes. Even the cuckoo is not exempt from similar luxurious tastes. The writer was acquainted with one of these birds that lived for some weeks under the gooseberry bushes in a certain garden—flying out with an extremely annoying shriek when any one approached —until the supply of fruit at that spot was exhausted, when it migrated to another clump of less forward bushes and repeated the process. Such misdemeanours as those described above are, however, all condoned when the offenders pour forth their flood of thrilling melody ; unhappily birds do not sing the whole year through, and, like boys, when they are quiet they are almost certain to be in mischief !
It is a pretty sight in autumn to see a village father digging potatoes, while his children in their blue, red, and pink pinafores, that give vivid touches of colour to the dun fields, swarm around him, cleaning, picking over, and sorting the fruit of his toil before depositing it in the wheelbarrow. When this is full, piled high with the winter store, the baby of the family is seated on the heap, and trundled home in triumph by "our daddy." These people have little to learn in the way of plain, practical gardening. The County Council, with the most praiseworthy intentions, sent down a lecturer to deliver a series of addresses on the subject. The attention was coldly received. "What do a think as he be gwine to t'ach we then ? Ha'n't us bin doin' our bite o' garden an' lotment pretty nigh all our lives ? I reckon 'tis we as could l'arn he a few things." And the lecturer departed, after delivering two of his course, to seek more promising pastures.
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