and windsor--salads and cresses--radishes
in radiating bunches and globular bunches--cabbages and cauliflowers,
that may perplex cooks and boilers by their magnitude--cucumbers and
melons, and all the pumpkin tribe. Fruit--shining heaps of
cherries--trays of bright glistening currants, with their little seeds
peeping through as "natural" as the gems in the great Russian
cabinet--strawberries and raspberries on their wooden trays, with the
little skimmer-like spades to shovel them up, and the choice ones packed
up in their little pints, sheltered from the sun by the fresh green leaf
tied over--and sundry and divers wares from foreign parts lending new
features to the home department, since the tariff of the "people's
friend" came into operation. But the crowning glory of the picture is
the sovereign of the stall, the sturdy market-gardener, full of strength
and sinew, the evidence of honest healthful labour meeting its due
reward,--a fitting representative of the great base upon whose soundness
rests the column of wealth, and capitol of rank, that with it form the
pillar of our nation's social prosperity. He knows not what it is to
seek for work, but rather needs to pluralise himself to satisfy the
demands upon his skill, and time, and taste; and fairly has he earned his
reputation both in horti and floriculture. His rustic little home, with
its thatched roof, and ivy and clematis twined verandah, lies in the very
midst of a city of gardens almost of his own creation, watched and tended
by him with a care that has rendered them the fairest line of beauty art
ever devised to grace a road-side pathway through the suburbs of a city;
and who ever saw or tasted wares that could rival the produce of his own
little profitable domain? But the good-humoured smile of conscious
superiority in his profession, that plays upon his features, is the
market-gardener's peculiar fascination. Talk to him of chemical manures
or rich guano, how he will smile! and what a tale will he unfold of roses
all burnt up, geraniums run to leaf, polyanthuses converted into
cabbages, without the advantage of being edible; auriculas dying, &c.
"May do _somewheres_, but not for flower or market-gardens." Beyond him,
lies spread out a rich carpet of flowers, grouped by the hands of younger
and humbler ones, whom one might almost call the lay floricultural
professors. Geraniums, and fuchsias, and bright blue salvias, verbenas
of every hue, from deep ma