Courage is wanted to write a book about Town-gardening. Is there such a thing ? Some would say ” No ; cats, fogs, and smuts forbid.” Yet how inseparable from London is the thought of flowers ! Can we picture the West End on a summer’s day without them ? The dust-laid, freshly sprinkled squares and streets, where behind half-drawn blinds there is the fragrance of many blossoms ; the bright harness of horses jangling as they champ the bit, a knot of flowers at every bridle ; flower-sellers with baskets at all convenient corners, and along the roadway carts of Palms and growing plants bending and waving in the wind ; every man one meets has got his button-hole, and every maiden wears her posy ; even the butcher-boy holds a bud between his thumb and finger, twirling it and smelling at it as he goes.
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