Punch (99.1890)

250

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [November 22, 1890.

IN OUR GARDEN.

T has occurred to me in look-
ing back over these unpre-
meditated notes, that if by
any chance they came to be
published, the public might
gain the impression that the
Member for Sark and I did
all the work of the Garden,
whilst our hired man looked
on. Sark, to whom I have
put the ease, says that is
precisely it. But I do not
agree with him. We have,
v*i* \;^=^v^>-^~Ja' as I have already explained,
undertaken this new respon-
sibility from a desire to preserve health and strength useful to our
Qtteen' and Country. Therefore we, as Arpachshad says, potter about
the Garden, get in each other's way, and in his ; that is to say, we are
out working pretty well all day, with inadequate intervals for meals.

Abpachshad, to do him justice, is most anxious not to interfere
with our project by unduly taking labour on himself. When we
are shifting earth, and as we shift it backwards and forwards there
is a good deal to be done in that way, he is quite content to walk by
the side, or in front of the barrow, whilst Sake: wheels it, and I
walk behind, picking up any bits that have shaken out of the
vehicle. (Earth trodden into the gravel-walk would militate against
its efficiency.) But of course Arpachshad is, in the terms of his
contract, " a working gardener," and I see that he works.

At the same time it must be admitted that he does not display
any eagerness in engaging himself, nor does he rapidly and ener
getically carry out little tasks which are set him. There are, for
example, the sods about the trees in the orchard. He says it's very
bad for the trees to have the sods close up to their trunks. There
should be a small space of open ground. Abpachshad thought
that perhaps "the gents," as he calls us, would enjoy digging a
clear space round the trees. We thought we would, and set to
work. Bat Sauk having woefully hacked the stem of a young
apple-tree {Lord Suffield) and I having laboriously and carefully
cut away the entire network of the roots of a damson-tree, under
the impression that it was a weed, it was decided that Abpachshad
had better do this skilled labour. We will attain to it by-and-by.

Abpachshad has now been engaged on the work for a fortnight,
and I think it will carry him on into the spring. The way he walks
round the harmless apple-tree before cautiously putting in the
spade, is very impressive. Having dug three exceedingly small
sods, he packs them in a basket, and then, with a great sigh, heaves
it on to his shoulder, and walks off to store the sods by the potting-
shed. _ Anything more solemn than his walk, more depressing than
his mien, has not been seen outside a churchyard. If he were bury-
ing the child of his old age, he could not look more cut up. Sabk,
who, probably owing to personal associations, is beginning to develop
some sense of humour, walked by the side of him this morning
whistling " The Dead March in Saul."

The effect was unexpected and embarrassing. Abpachshad
slowly relieved himself of the burden of the three sods, dropped
them on the ground with a disproportionate thud, and, producing a

large pocket-handkerchief, whose variegated and brilliant colours
were, happily, dimmed by a month's use, mopped his eyes.

"You'll excuse me, gents," he snuffled, " but I never hear that
there tune, 'Mule Brilanny,' whistled or sung but I think of the time
when I went down to see my son off from Portsmouth for the Crimee,
' Mule Britanny' was the tune they played when he walked
proudly aboard. He was in all the battles, Almy, Inkerman, Bally-
klaver, Seringapatam, and Sebastopol."

"And was he killed?" asked the Member for Sabk, making as
though he would help Abpachshad with the basket on to his
shoulder again.

" No," said Abpachshad, overlooking the attention—" he lived to
come home; and last week he rode in the Lord Mayor's coach
through the streets of London, with all his medals on. .Five shillings
for the day, and a good blow-out, presided over by Mr. Atjgt/stin
Harris, in his Sheriff's Cloak and Chain at the ' Plough-and-
Thunder,' in the Barbican."

Hartington came down to see us to-day. Mentioned Abpach-
shad, and his natural indisposition to hurry himself.

" Why should he?" asked Hartingto:n, yawning, as he leaned
over the fence. " What's the use, as Whosthis says, of ever climb-
ing up the climbing wave ? I can't understand how you fellows go
about here with your shirt-sleeves turned up, bustling along as if
you hadn't a minute to spare. It's just the same in the House ;
bustle everywhere; everybody straining and pushing—everybody
but me."

"Well," said Sabk, "but you've been up in Scotland, making
quite a lot of speeches. Just as if you were Mr. G. himself."

"Yes," said Hartington, looking admiringly at Arpachshad,
who had taken off his coat, and was carefully folding it up, prepara-
tory to overtaking a snail, whose upward march on a peach-tree his
keen eye had noted; "but that wasn't my fault. 1 was dragged
into it against my will. It came about this way. Months ago, when
Mr. G.'s tour was settled, they said nothing would do but that I
must follow him over the same ground, speech by speech. If it had
been to take place in the next day or two, or in the next week, I
would have plumply said No. But, you see, it was a long way off.
No one could say what might not happen in the interval. If I'd
said No, they would have worried me week after week. If I said
Yes, at least I wouldn't be bored on the matter for a month or two.
So I consented, and, when the time came, I had to put in an appear-
ance. But I mean to cut the whole business. Shall take a Garden,
like you and Sark, only it shall be a place to lounge in, not to work
in. Should like to have a fellow like your Abpachshad ; soothing
and comforting to see him going about his work."

" I suppose you '11 take a partner ? " I asked. " Hope you '11 get
one more satisfactory than Sabk has proved."

Habtington blushed a rosy red at this reference to a partner.
Didn't know he was so sensitive on account of Sabk ; abruptly
changed subject.

" Fact is, Toisr," he said, "I hate politics ; always been dragged
into them by one man or_ another. First it was Bright ; then
Mr. G. ; now the Markiss is always at me, making out that chaos
will come if I don't stick at my place in the House during the
Session, and occasionally go about country making speeches in the
recess. Wouldn't mind the House if seats were more comfortable.
Can sleep there pretty well for twenty minutes before dinner ; but
nothing to rest your head against; back falls your head ; off goes
your hat; and then those Radical fellows grin. I could Btand
polities better if Front Opposition Bench or Treasury Bench were
constructed on principle of family pews in country churches. Get a
decent quiet corner, and there you are. In any new Refomied
Parliament hope they '11 think of it; though it doesn't matter
much to me. I'm going to cut it. Done my share ; been abused
now all round the Party circle. Conservatives, Whigs, Liberals,
Radicals, Irish Members, Scotch and Welsh, each alternately have
praised and belaboured me. My old enemies now my closest friends.
Old friends look at me askance. It's a poor business. I never
liked it, never had anything to get out of it, and you '11 see presently
that I '11 give it up. Don't you suppose, Toby my boy, that you shall
keep the monopoly of retirement. I '11 find a partner, peradventure
an Abpachshad, and we '11 all live happily for the rest of our life."

With his right hand thrust in his trouser-pocket, his left swinging
loosely at his side, and his hat low over his brow, Habtington
lounged off till his tall figure was lost in the gloaming.

"That's the man for my money," said Abpachshad, looking with
growing discontent at the Member for Sabk, who, with the only
blade left in his tortoiseshell-handled penknife, was diligently digging
weeds out of the walk.

In the Club Smoking-Room.

"Lux Mundi," said somebody, reading aloud the title heading
a lengthy criticism in the Times.

_" Don't know so much about that," observed a sporting and super-
stitious young man; " but I know that ' III luck's Friday.' "