The Gardener Surgeon

"People sneer at gardening and gardeners, Grant," said the old gentleman
to me one day. "Perhaps you may take to some other occupation when you
grow older; but don't you never be ashamed of having learned to be a
gardener."

"I'm sure I never shall," I said.

"I hope you will not, my boy, for there's something in gardening and
watching the growth of trees and plants that's good for a lad's nature;
and if I was a schoolmaster I'd let every boy have a garden, and make
him keep it neat. It would be as good a lesson as any he could teach."

"I like gardening more and more, sir," I said.

"That's right, my boy. I hope you do, but you've a deal to learn yet.
Gardening's like learning to play the fiddle; there's always something
more to get hold of than you know. I wish I had some more glass."

"I wish you had, sir," I said.

"Why, boy?--why?" he cried sharply.

"Because you seem as if you'd like it, sir," I said, feeling rather
abashed by his sharp manner.

"Yes, but it was so that I should be able to teach you, sir. But wait a
bit, I'll talk to my brother one of these days."

Time glided on, and as I grew bigger and stronger I used now and then to
go up with Ike to the market. He would have liked me to go every time,
but Mr Brownsmith shook his head, and would only hear of it in times of
emergency.