Not the least of the ills gardeners are heir to is the meddling of mechanics with the direction of work that properly belongs to the gardener. A few years ago one of my customers wishing to take down his greenhouse and rebuild, requested the architect and builder to confer with me, and carry out whatever I recommended. We did so confer, but our ideas were entirely at variance. His idea was an architectural one and that horticulture must conform to it and that it was "all nonsense," "out of proportion," "not in keeping," etc. The proprietor not knowing what to do was almost persuaded. I did not try to convince them to the contrary, and left. A few days after I was sent for; he had enclosed money in a letter to a florist friend in Rochester desiring him to hire a hack and visit all the private houses in R. and see if there was not a successful one in accordance with his ideas, which he enclosed, mine also. He honorably told me what he had done, and the reply received, which was, " We say, by all means build as your florist suggests; his ideas are correct." He remarked, " We have concluded it must be built as you say; I see you all run in the same rut," etc.

The house was built to the entire satisfaction and pride of the owner, architect and myself.

The boiler and pipes were duly put in as I directed. The inside elaborately finished. The owner asked me if I did not think the pipes should be painted. I said " no; let them alone." He said they looked rough and he should think just a little lamp-black and oil wouldn't hurt them. I again said, better let them alone. On my next visit two days after, I met the owner at the door of the house and said, " I see you have painted the pipes." "O, yes, just a little lamp-black and oil (and I am sure he thought that was all). Mc------(the plumber) said he'd risk there being any danger." I thought no more of the matter till two months later I was remodelling the grounds; the gardener called my attention to the unusual quantity of leaves falling off and the rancid tarry smell which I thought indicated that the trouble was in the boiler or pipes. The water was drawn off repeatedly, but still the trouble continued, if anything, growing worse, for the nights were growing colder and stronger fires were kept. I suspected the black stuff on the pipes and asked the gardener if he knew for certain what it was. He said they told him, lamp-black and oil. I sought the boss painter and journeyman painter and the plumber, but got the same answer from all, simply lamp-black and oil.

Feeling convinced they were trying to deceive and shift the blame on my shoulders, I finally examined the out-buildings, when there I found the veritable tar pot that had been used. The owner's wife was away from home and he spared no expense to give her an agreeable surprise on her return. I imagine her surprise and tears when she looked in and saw her once valuable plants utterly leafless, a grimy workman swabbing off the vile stuff, bespattering the handsome tiled floor, and all from the impertinent interference of mechanics.

I could give dozens of instances such as these entailing the loss of hundreds of dollars and years of time that cannot be recalled, but fear this is already too long. Ogdensburg, N. Y.

[Our correspondent is too modest in his figures. If he had said hundreds of thousands of dollars, instead of hundreds, he would have been nearer the mark. - Ed. G. M].