1893 - Smiley Mr. Lyle Made Pansy History

I was just tucking some more pansies into large pot when I noticed a lovely yellow one growing in the ground nearby, from last year's pansies that went to seed!  

The surprise of finding it made it even more charming. 


Upshot of all that is I dusted off a draft on pansy history that had been sitting around  waiting to be finished. 
I couldn't find many illustrations of the pansies named which is why I had shelved it.  But, he was a good man and deserves being remembered.

"...among amateurs no name stands higher than that of Peter Lyle of Kilbarchan."

1898 -Pansies, Violas, and Violets

The great popularity of the pansy, which reminds me a little bit of Tulip Mania, is extraordinary.  This article from Journal of Horticulture and Practical Gardening
is looking back on the earlier years and acknowledging Peter Lyle's place in pansy history.

 ____________________________________________________________________

 SHOW PANSIES AND MR. PETER LYLE.

The Pansy is essentially a Scottish flower, at once the most popular with first-rate florists and the most generally grown by the ordinary floral amateurs, from John O'Groats to Maidenkirk. 

The Show Pansy is a cross between our native Viola tricolor and V. cornuta. The raiser is unknown, as also is the date; but we may assume from various incidental circumstances that the fortunate man was from the neighbourhood of Paisley in Renfrewshire, and the period about the year 1823. 

 Medical Botany1832

Singularly enough, this is also the year when Mr. Peter Lyle was born, who, more than any other Pansy grower, has developed the flower by raising some of the very best sorts we yet possess, while from his youth he has kept true to the love of his heart, and is even now as keen and successful a grower of the flower as ever he was, as the grand beds he had to show last summer testified.   

While many districts in Scotland are associated with Pansy growing, such as Campsie, Newmilns, Vale of Leven, and others, Paisley has been the headquarters, and Kilbarchan, five miles west of the county town, has been noted for the enthusiasm of its florists, and may be counted as second in eminence.

Kilbarchan, where Peter Lyle lived. 
I decided to add pictures for anything I was
interested in even if it is a bit odd for this article. :-)

When Mr. Lyle was but a lad his zeal for gardening manifested itself in real hard work. So anxious was he to get his father's garden dug that he has done it three times in one spring ere the right time come, with just "the sid" of weather to justify the sowing of seeds.  The Pansy growers from whom Mr. Lyle caught "the fever" were Wm. Campbell, Duncan Cairney, James Dick, James Gilmore and John Love, the last named being figured in the Journal of Horticulture, October 1st, 1891.   (John Love was also from Kilbarchan. He was fond of pinks.)

1874 - Henri Fantin-Latour

1883 -Henri Fantin-Latour

Raising seedlings was the great hobby of the time, and when Mr. Lyle was twenty-five years of age, he went to his first show in Kilbarchan in 1848.  Before that date shows had been attended in Paisley, and a few friends met there from time to time in the evenings to discuss new blooms, and Mr. Lyle had to walk home in the dark the five miles to Kilbarchan.   To him this was no hardship, as he has ever been wonderfully quick of foot, and his fine constitution and wiry frame are even yet remarkably evident.   In the year 1850, or thereby, a great show of Pansies and other flowers took place in Falkirk, but Mr. Lyle did not attend it,  traveling thirty miles was not so expeditiously performed then as now. 

An old friend of my own, however, attended that show, Mr. James Peddie, gardener to John Gordon, Esq., of Aikenhead, Cathcart.   As a gardener and keen florist the West of Scotland had no other to equal him, and his taste in Pansies was perfect.  Mr. Peddie's first competition in Pansies was at Falkirk, and when he staged his blooms all eyes turned on the young fair-haired gardener and his stand of flowers.  The Secretary, the late Mr. Charles Jeffrey, at once was struck with the stand and complimented the exhibitor thereon, saying "he was sure no finer lot would be shown, and that this would be adjudged first." 
It was so, and from that day the real Scottish taste for Pansies may date, as thereafter the flower was a leading feature everywhere. I cannot name the blooms which were shown at Falkirk, but the following were the varieties most in vogue about that time—viz., 

The only one of the above mentioned I could find. *sigh*

• yellow grounds — Duke of Norfolk, Robert Burns, Gilbert Burns, Sir Charles Napier;
• white grounds, Miss Talbot, Lizzie, British
  Queen, Mountain of Snow;
• yellow selfs, Wonderful and Climax.

In Glasgow on 9th September, 1852, in George's Square, set out in tents, the tug of war came which decided the Pansy championship, and a full report was inserted in the Glasgow Herald. 

Here Mr. Lyle met Mr. Peddie, and was awarded the first prize in gardeners' and amateurs' classes for twenty-four blooms in each. A friend informed Mr. Peddie that he was surpassed by a man who had only 9 yards of a garden. This was true, yet could not be believed; so a gentleman was sent out to Kilbarchan to prospect, and on his return declared that the fact was so, and further that from the same plants in that small garden Mr. Lyle could stage forty-eight blooms any day, which would defy Scotland to beat them. 

It will be historically interesting to name the blooms as well as to show the source of our present stock as exhibited at Glasgow Show in 1852. The gardeners' class were: 

White grounds:

• France Cycole,
• Lady Mackenzie, 
• Aurora, 
• Royal Visit. 

White selfs:

• Princess Royal, 
• Jerome, 
• Queen of England, 
• Marchioness of Breadalbane. 

Forgive me, but I just had to look up the Marchioness of Breadalbane.  I found this evocative quote in a Google snippet - "...Marquis of Breadalbane came forward, when her Majesty cordially took his hand, and alighted from the carriage, followed by Prince Albert. Her Majesty was received by the Marchioness of Breadalbane, whom she ...".  I didn't look harder or further.  

Dark selfs: 

• Rainbow, 
• Duke of Perth, 
• Norah, 
• Maggie Lyle, 
• Othello, 
• Marchioness of Lothian. 

Yellow grounds:

• Duke of Norfolk, 
• Pizarro, 
• Polyphemus, 
• Juventa, 
• Supreme. 

There were two seedlings and Elegant, Sir Wm. Rae, and Lucy Neale. 

In the amateurs' class they were somewhat the same, varied by Gulnare, Napoleon, Princess Louisa, and Robert Burns. 
It is well to note that while to-day we have not one of these victorious varieties, we have some with similar names, as Robert Burns, which is still grown, but not the flower then exhibited. 

Again, there have been two distinct "Royal Visits" to commemorate Her Majesty's coming to Glasgow.

From this date a universal taste for Pansies took possession of our florists. High prices were paid for a small quantity of rare seed, and very soon the increase in fine flowers became notable, while the standard of excellence was gradually raised for form, colour, texture, belting, blotch, and last, but not least, the eye. These six points must be met in a bloom, each point being nearly perfect, or, if one is deficient, the flower is condemned. Size may be counted the seventh point; as, however well up the Pansy may be otherwise, if it is less than 1 1/2 inch in diameter it is not well grown.

Mr. Lyle's success continued, as he was a frequent prizewinner, notwithstanding the extended ranks of competitors.  Then his seedlings were famous, only the real beauties being sent out by him. Of many sorts raised, he often gave those away which friends admired, and his name as raiser was never linked with them at all, while the gems were eagerly sought after, and high prices given for them. 

...among amateurs no name stands higher than that of Peter Lyle of Kilbarchan.

For instance, for two, named Capt. Spiers and Emily Lyle, the late Wm. Paul gave him £7; then for a beautiful one named Maggie Lyle he received £3 10s. from Messrs. Begg & Paul, who brought it out; while for twenty cuttings of one or two promising seedlings he would be paid £1.   Nurserymen gladly add to their collections in this way, as amateurs usually concentrate their energies on one class of flowers, and the result is, as with Mr. Lyle, very special successes. 

(He seems a jolly man!)

A few of the most famous Show Pansies, raised by various florists, are as follows :

• Countess of Roslin, 
• Hugh Austin, 
• Lavinia, 
• Lady Lucy Dundas, 
• Miss E. Cochrane, 
• The Countess of Strathmore
• Flower of the Day. 

Of dark selfs some were really fine, and if Rev. H. H. D'Ombrain could be rediscovered today it would be yet prized. This one endured for more years than any other.   
Irene was introduced by Mr. Middlemass, and was very fine.   

The Black Douglas, and W. B. Spiers and Gem followed—the last a beauty, but small, though as a judge said, it was " guid, guid !" 
    
The late Thos. Hastie, of Strathaven, raised one long esteemed by growers, called James Dalzell, and which we still grow. Later Luna, and then Alexr. Watt, and David Malcolm brings the tale down to recent years.

 A white ground (Jane Grieve) was, however, the greatest wonder perhaps of any Show Pansy ever introduced.

    The method of culture pursued by Mr. Lyle may be of service to many lovers of his favourite flower. The cuttings are taken in September and set in cold frames in good soil and a little sand, lightly watered, and closed and shaded for a week or so, and air gradually admitted afterwards.   

During winter the frame is not kept rigidly closed, but raised a little to allow air to enter and escape in all ordinary weather, but closed in extreme frost. It is damp which destroys the Pansy.         

In March, if any fly appears, a little softsoap dissolved in water is syringed on the young plants and the pest destroyed.  This is repeated before planting out. In April the plants are set out, in soil new to them, as if planted again in the previous year's bed disease sets in. None but well-decayed manure is used, and this is dug in during the previous autumn. The soil is moderately rich and open; heavy clay soil will not do. 

After rains, when the earth is sodden, stir it freely between the plants with a hand-fork. This admits air, and the Pansy, though fond of moisture, cannot endure it to be stagnant. Until the plants grow and look robust, pluck off all the flower buds that show.When liquid manure is given it must be very weak, and in dry weather the plants must not be allowed to flag. As to the much talked of disease, healthy plants to start with are the best preventive; while new soil, in which Pansies have not been previously grown, will almost certainly keep back the invader.

Mr. Lyle's garden faces the south, and has been in cultivation for 150 years. Since he entered it, in 1861, it has only been trenched twice.   Not a weed is to be seen, and though narrow it is long. In trade a joiner, he has always been employed at home, and therefore well placed to give his flowers regular care.   Now, when nearing threescore years and ten, he finds enjoyment and exercise sufficient for his abounding vitality in his garden.    His foot is still light and buoyant, and his cheery spirit gay as ever. 

His children are away from home, one only having opportunity to develop the paternal taste for flowers.   His wife and he dwell in their own property, and are comfortable and free from worldly care.   In March Mr. Lyle will grow Pansies in seed boxes, prick out the seedlings in April into his empty frame, and plant in open ground in June, and be as happy in September over his seedlings, with many friends, as if toil and hardship had never been nigh him all his days.   New sorts will be added to the long list he has raised, let us trust even superior to Mauve Queen, Mrs. Jno. Bolton, Marquis of Lorne, Mrs. Gladstone, Mrs. Arthur, and the rest of his floral achievements, the praises of which we see in all the Pansy catalogues.

Many have worked in the same field with him, but to Mr. Lyle is due, more than to any other single person, the honour of having raised the Show Pansy to the perfection it has now reached.          —Alexander Sweet.

1891 - Reminiscences of Mr. John Love and His Beloved Pinks

Call me an old fuddy-duddy, but I love the way this is written. I came across Mr. Love when the I learned that 19th century pansy mavin Peter Lyle was influenced by him.

This article was published in the Journal of Horticulture and Practical Gardening, Vol. 23. 
I have had fun adding the illustrations.  The only image originally with the article is a portrait of Mr. Love which I used above in a "collage".

JOHN LOVE AND HIS GARDEN.

While driving in September from Bridge of Weir to Kilbarchan (Renfrewshire) we had begun to descend the hill above the latter town, when turning our eyes to the left we saw a wonderful crop of Apples, and found that the place was called Mount Pleasant. 

The present owner most obligingly escorted us around this fruitful orchard, and we soon found that what was to be seen from the highway was but a sample of the whole stock.

Scottish orchard near Renfrewshire.

 In making inquiry we found that about sixty years since the substantial house had been built by one John Tarbet, an old soldier who had in his time been a bombardier at the taking of Martinique. He had an eye for a fine Bite anyhow, and we can fancy him, while the days were declining, looking over the beautiful country around him and thinking how he could command with his artillery any radical rising which his keen political townsmen might be tempted to undertake. He planted fruit trees instead of batteries of cannon, and after his decease the place came to a relative, Mr. Climie, who continued the garden in cultivation, and his daughter married Mr. Love, the subject of our sketch.

About the year 1840 the young couple came to reside there. With a large garden to keep in order the evening hours were spent at home. In spring time useless trees were regrafted with good bearing sorts, if possible several different kinds being put on each tree. The old Keswick Codlin, the more modern Stirling Castle, with the best of the purely local varieties as the Lochwinnoch Pippin and the Golden Leadington (a variety whose name was suggested by Dr. Hogg) were carefully inserted, and now this year are just loaded with fruit. 

Thanks to http://www.nationalfruitcollection.org.uk/ !  The other two were not found.

A curious feature in grafting we observed, and which Mr. Love rejoices over yet, is his successful experiment of placing a Pear on a Hawthorn stock. The thorn is one of many stems, gnarled and twisted most curiously, while the Pear scion is inserted about 5 feet from the ground. To graft Plums on Thorn trees is not uncommon, but in another garden in Kilbarchan there is a Rowan Tree (Mountain Ash) with a Pear graft on it yielding even better results than this experiment at Mount Pleasant.

The Vale of Evesham was lovely!  

Here we see the old Caledonian Plum in fruit on its own roots. Some years it is so overloaded as to resemble the trees we see in the Vale of Evesham, but this is not a productive year apparently with it. In this old garden of an acre, or thereby, the trees arc thickly placed together, many now interwarped in their branches, while beneath them are Gooseberries and Currants galore.

The soil is a rich, red, vegetable mould, sloping to the south, but fully exposed to all the winds that blow. The Rose succeeds to perfection, and old-fashioned border flowers were beautiful, from the Snowdrops of January and February, till the blue autumn Crocus of September were buried beneath a whirling cover of bright October's leaves. All through the summer the busy bees of "friend John" were gathering honey from every flower and blossom, fertilizing the fruit trees, and largely adding to their production, as we all know who have fruit gardens and bees. The hives used were "the time-honoured "straw skeps of John's father and grandfather, and many a lovely "top" of pure honey our worthy friend has taken off here.'

Google Street View image on the Bridge of Weir Road.

"The Renfrewshire Bee-keeper" befriended Mr. Love, and many a hard question on their favourite subject has been discussed between them. Alas! for so many of us that he, who so well exemplified in his own life 'the grand old name of gentleman " is now gone for ever and ever, while of all who now mourn his loss John Love's sorrow for his kind friend is not the least. Not a doubt of it, for to a man of over eighty-five years new friends do not succeed quickly, and are never like the old ones. 

"The Renfrewshire Bee-keeper" was a gentleman who wrote a column for the British Bee Journal & Bee-keepers Adviser, and signed his name as such.

In a sunny space the plot is still defined where Mr. Love grew and raised his celebrated race of laced Pinks. Year after year in this spot they were grown to such perfection as to carry off the honours at all the shows round, from Glasgow to Eilbarchan. At every digging new soil was turned up, and thus the situation continued to suit his favourite flower. What grand specimens of the dark "Pirate" and "John Love," were cut here.
Every year seedlings were watched for, and the advent of a pod of promise was an event for local florists to come and see. Altogether the garden is one, for soil, situation, and association, much to be desired still. Now, however, the old veteran still keeps to the Pinks, fruits, and the bees, in a less vigorous fashion than of old in a new garden farther "doon the toon."   Hale and wiry, with eye bright and keen, active step, and toil-worn hand, we trust that he may long enjoy his garden joys.   And though "down in the valley" the long shadows of life's sunset are falling around him, and the last bees are settling home with their store, he has but to look upward and see that Mount Pleasant is glowing in the light, to have the glory of far distant summers borne in upon him.

As we go homewards up through the narrow street the people are in crowds, while the flower show is attracting all the florists of the district.  Time to gather honey, but not for themselves, so John Love's work was not for himself.  He sowed, and today we wear his seedlings in our buttonhole.  Younger men take up the love for flowers, but let them look with respect and gratitude on their horticultural ancestors into whose labours the have entered.   A. SWEET 

 [We have also received the subjoined notes respecting Mr. Love's career.]

Every man, apart from the profession or employment by which he gains a livlihood, ought to have what is usually called a hobby.  It matters little what that hobby is, provided it is innocent, and interests his mind and draws his attention away from the anxiety and worry which belong to the daily business of life. 

Idleness, whether of body or mind, besides being morally dangerous, is not rest. It is better to have a hobby which, by giving an agreeable change of employment, will refresh and improve both body and mind without adding anything perceptibly to their exhaustion. As to the kind of hobby to be chosen everyone must consult his own taste and circumstances. It may he music, or some department of science, or literature, or floriculture, or bee-keeping. This depends very much on the taste of the individual, the nature of his daily employment, and the circumstances in which he is placed.

Floriculture and bee-keeping, two thirgs very much akin, formed the special hobby of the person of whom notice is here to be taken. John Love, the eldest son of a father bearing the same name, was born at Kilbarchan, Renfrewshire, on April 10th, 1806. So healthy has he been that during more than fourscore years he has only on one occasion required medical advice. Much of this, doubtless, is to be attributed ti the simplicity of his life, and to his regular and temperate habits. 

There he is: of medium height and agile frame; a fine head, once covered with fair hair, but now bald with the exception of a few thin white locks; mild and meditative in expression ; the bloom still on his cheek, although eighty-five years of age by next birthday; for many years a happy "Benedict," but now a widower and the father of a numerous family; a good Christian man, and for a considerable time an esteemed elder in a Presbyterian church.

Like his father, and like the inhabitants of Kilbarchan generally, John Love became in youth a handloom weaver, and diligently plied the shuttle till beyond the age of threescore and ten. But while busy at his trade during the time he resided under his father's roof, he had parts of meal hours, and frequently half or whole days, occasioned by the change of one web for another, when he could gratify his taste for flowers by cultivating them, and acquire also a knowledge of the habits and requirements of bees by watching and attending to those kept by his father—who was an enthusiastic bee-keeper, as was also his grandfather before him.

Read the article here.

In his love for flowers John Love was by no means singular amongst his fellow tradesmen, the handloom weavers of Kilbarchan having, in most cases, a garden attached to their dwelling house. 

There is found amongst them a common love for flowers, and no little skill and competition in their cultivation. This refined taste seems to be natural, and is possibly to be traced to the many exquisite patterns and fabrics on which they spend their daily labours, whereby they insensibly acquire a knowledge of the harmony of colours and a taste for the beautiful. 

Certain it is many of them are keen and successful cultivators of plants, and even very good judges of the merits of flowers which they themselves have never grown and perhaps have seldom seen.

John Love is a man of this stamp. Having by-and-by persuaded one of the other sex to cast in her lot with him as his wife, and got a house of his own, he could, now that he was his own master, follow out more freely the innocent and interesting hobby towards which his heart was drawn. He soon became acquainted with many plants, and not a few of them has he to some extent grown, such as Tulips, Pansies, Roses, Carnations, Auriculas, &c.; but his favourite flower, his piece de resistance, has ever been the Pink. 

His bed of Pinks, when in its glory, has been generally a noteworthy sight. Looking at it over his garden wall at Mount Pleasant the bed at first glance may seem somewhat strange, and almost comical—short stakes at almost every plant, holding broken bowls and plates, and glass, and other ungainly contrivances; shading and sheltering some plants from a scorching sun or possible rain, holding hack others from a too early maturity, and stimulating some to a more forward growth. 

To view beautiful pinks available now, go to the Alwoods site.  What a lovely selection! Several pinks are from the 18th and 19th centuries.    By the way, the common plant name "pinks" is not referring to the colors.  It is referencing a jagged edge to the petal and blotches, like fabric cut with pinking shears.

This photo is from Alwoods.

But turn in and inquire for the master, and ask him to show you his Pinks; and he will cordially welcome you, and gladly, probably with head uncovered, lead you out, and with affectionate pride uncover, for your delighted inspection, his choice darlings.  

Probably he will tell you, "These there are this year's seedlings. This one here I think will do; it is distinct from all others in the bed, and has qualities equal at least to any one of them.  Here are also two or three which are very good, but before deciding what to do with them I must grow them another year.  As for these other seedlings, they are below the mark and without promise, and must be cast out. 

These tallied ones are the named Pinks.  This one—' Black-eyed Susan '—is not a very large flower, but it is distinct, well laced, and pretty, and tells well in a stand, &c." Before leaving him it is not unlikely he will say to you, "If you grow Pinks I'll give you, if I can spare it, a little grass of any one of them for pipings" -  for John Love is a generous man, and likes to encourage others in the cultivation of his favourite flower.

1843 - Gardening for Ladies: And Companion
 to the Flower-garden By Mrs. Jane Loudon

John Love's Pink stands at a competitive exhibition are worthy of remark. Each flower is so neatly fixed in the centre of a circular piece of white paper a little larger than itself, and the petals so deftly spread as to show to the best advantage the build, and markings, and lacings of the flower; and they are all so arranged on the stand, according to size and colour, as to present collectively to the eye a lovely and effective picture. 

Besides, after the judges have done their work you will commonly find attached to the stand a ticket, bearing in conspicuous print "first prize," and underneath this, in legible penmanship, "John Love, Kilbarchan."   This has been repeated so frequently as to earn for him the soubriquet of "Scottish Pink Champion". John Love's favour for the Pink has been a life-long one. It was cherished by him till his age extended beyond the threescore years and ten. It continued to be cherished by him even practically during his subsequent residence in Paisley for six years, and in Rothesay for five years more; and when, at the end of these eleven years, he returned to his native town happily there was attached to the premises in which he took up his abode an excellent garden, where he has given, and is still giving, abundant evidence that his love for his favourite flower has neither been extinguished or lessened by age nor superseded by a newer favourite, but is as enthusiastic as ever. 

His life now extends beyond the half of its ninth decade, but he still appears so strong, Fo active, so healthy, so cheerful, so much in the possession of every faculty with the exception of hearing (whose gates are not now wide open) that he bids fair to see, if not the completion, at least the beginning of bis tenth decade.

It may be added that during all his long and active life John Love has been conversant, theoretically and practically, with bee-keeping; but as the present writer is not very well acquainted with the plans and processes he followed in this kindred hobby he leaves it to some other, who is abundantly competent to write on the subject with intelligence and authority.

Source

1891 - Mr. Love's Long Life With Bees

This article from the British Bee Journal & Bee-keepers Adviser celebrates the good man, John Love, as a beekeeper. I have been getting an article about him as a famous grower of pinks when I got lured away by bee. Pinks are coming!   I have added illustrations when I was curious to know about something (if I could find any).  I would have liked Mr. Love as a neighbor.

OUR PROMINENT BEE-KEEPERS.

No. 30—MR. JOHN LOVE.

We have much pleasure in giving this week the portrait and a biographical sketch of the veteran bee-keeper, Mr. John Love.  Born in the village of Kilbarchan, Renfrewshire, on 10th April, 1806, bred a hand-loom weaver, as were his father and grandfather, three Johns in line, he maybe said to have been a born beekeeper, as he remembers a saying of his father's -that in the old garden the hum of the bee had been heard without a break for sixty years. 

Of middle height, fair complexion, with high colour, the fringe of pretty, fair, silky hair below his wide-awake behind, this 'yellow-haired laddie' of eighty-five summers is frequently taken by the stranger as wearing on to seventy.

If the sentence above made you read it twice, be it known that "The wide-awake, a broad-brimmed felt hat with a lowish crown, was a countryman's hat". (I thank the source!  I remember acutely doing research in pre-computer days. I think the magic of the web will never dull for me.) 

Still remarkably nimble and fleet of foot, of a very amiable disposition, his laugh is as nappy and jubilant now as I believe it to have been when, a boy of nine, he remembers listening to accounts read from the papers of the glorious victory of Waterloo.   For many years an exemplary Presbyterian elder, growing deafness (his only infirmity) prevents him now from performing all the duties of the office.   So healthy has he been that only once during his
long life, for a fever, has he required medical advice.   He married, 12th August, 1833, Mary Climie, daughter of a weaver's agent in his own village, and has been blessed by a numerous offspring.

A few years after his marriage the subject of our sketch moved to Mount Pleasant, beautifully situated on rising ground above the village, and occupied jointly with his brother-in-law, the upper flat as their dwelling  house — workshops below, a good garden behind. 

The passer-by could not but be attracted by the bee-house, a neat model of a two-storied dwelling-house, complete to the sweep on the chimney.  The numerous odd hives of the two dwellings were cosily placed in sheltered nooks under the many crafted fruit-trees. The floral display of roses, herbaceous plants, &c. was very fine but in their season the bed of pinks was the great attraction. 

Mr. Love for many years was the acknowledged Scottish champion 'pink' grower. Upstairs his stuffed specimens of natural history reflected great credit on our friend's taste and neathandedness in another direction. 

It has been recorded in these pages long ago, when the Italian bee was newly imported, how a petition was couched in respectable verse from the Kilbarchan fraternity for leave to inspect the new bee: the writer of it was Mr. Robert Climie, Mr. Love's brother-in-law. 

Alas! that deputation has all passed away save Mr. Love.  

Curious how the poetic vein descends, coming out in the children and grandchildren of Mr. Love.  Robert Climie's end, some twenty years ago, was very affecting.  He was invited over to a neighbouring village to examine the bees of a married daughter of Mr. Love.  A non-smoker himself, he administered a whiff of the pipe, said to his niece he felt sick, and would never touch that vile pipe again, retiring to an inner room, where she in a little while found him kneeling by the sofa in prayer, in which posture his gentle spirit passed away.  The funeral was largely attended, service in the open air, a beautiful spring day, the woods of Glentyan across the strath, and the village nestling in the hollow, bees out in force—very touching to beekeepers present to see his little favourites hover over the pall and odd ones resting on it, as if taking a long farewell of the old master ere his remains were borne away.

Time brings its changes, the kindly old Laird dies, the estate is sold, and Mr. Love after an occupancy of thirty-eight years has to move his looms into the smoky atmosphere of the town of Paisley, where he and an unmarried daughter bravely struggle on, plying their shuttles side by side.  In the interim, first the partner of his joys and sorrows, then his youngest and fairest flower, droop and die.  Gladly he accepts an offer to take charge of a cottage and pony, grow and dispose of a large fruit-garden crop in the island of Bute.  Rarely do we find a man at seventy-six so cheerily abandon his life-work, and begin to earn his bread by his hobby.

In the autumn of that year, 1881, the writer sailed to Bute and made the acquaintance of that steep ascent, the serpentine road, resting to gaze on the beauty of the grand prospect: Rothesay Bay at our feet, Joward Castle on the opposite shore, the glassy smoothness of the far reaches of the Kyles of Bute in the rugged distance.

The hill-top is at last gained; there, bareheaded as usual, busy among his strawberries, stands our hero. The joy at meeting!  'Why, John, you look like an old eagle perched on this hill-top!'  The bees and honey prospects are discussed, and the tremendous crop on his gifted young Caledonian plum-trees presented by John; a branch promised and hamper followed. 

By return of post the hit-off thanks :—

"Through wind and rain your basket came
     In safety—it is here.
'Twas careful hands that packed it
    With its richly-laden store. 

I never can repay you,    But I thank you o'er and o'er, For there are deeds of friendship    Words may not all impart,Their sterling worth, as deep they sink   Into our inmost heart. 

Then, once again I thank you    From here, my mountain home,And, one and all, I wish you joy   In the year that is to come.'

The Stewarton: The Hive for the
busy man

I gave him an introduction to my good friend Miss Macdonell, of Glengarry, and he assisted her with her bees, and that lady, in the kindest manner possible, presented him with a couple of swarms, and he was once more into stock, whose descendants he still carefully preserves.  

The above lady takes an enthusiastic interest in the bee and the silkworm.  

A handsome mahogany rotating observatory ornaments her drawing room, and the supers from her gigantic Stewartons overtopped everything at the Rothesay Exhibition. 

She also takes a warm interest in the cause of religion and education, in maintaining the purity of worship in the National Church;  is thoroughly practical, projected and supports an Initiatory School where poor boys are taught the ground-work of religion, besides the ability to sew on buttons or patches on their jackets.   

detail; source

At the School Board she has sat for nearly six years, the only lady, and heroically defends her position with as much determination as did her illustrious uncle the gates of Hougoumont at Waterloo.

Three verses are extracted from a letter or Mr. Love's on another occasion:—

'I will whisper my tale to the Yule-log   As I muse in its ruddy glow,As here again comes Christmas,   With its holly and mistletoe.

                                *****

'Tes! that is the tale I whisper,
   As I muse in the firelight glow,
As I sit, in the hush of the evening.
  And think on long ago; 

'On the happy home of my childhood,   On the friends I held so dear:
One by one they have left us,
   They are no longer here.'

                                  *****   

After a five years' residence in Bute he came back to Kilbarchan, and the bees and pinks are safely flitted to his present garden.  After the labours of the week are over, it is a much 

anticipated pleasure on the Saturday half-holiday, skimming over the four miles that part our dwellings.  The newest ideas in bee-keeping are discussed, the last bed of pinks planted by himself seen to, and the latest-come herbaceous plant criticized; and if in autumn the fruit-crop is peculiarly interesting — those 'Bouquet trees, the waxy purity of the white 'celestial' apple flanked on either side, same tree, by branches of the scarlet or striped varieties successively.  

He often ejaculates,  "It bates a!"  

How comes such heavy crops? Your good grafting and the fertilizing powers of our little friends, the bees?   "Nae doot, nae doot!"

One fine Saturday afternoon autumn was a twelvemonth, we were favoured by a visit from 'Our Editor,' pointing out to him how  "history repeats itself", our old Japanese lion, worshipped for 3000 years, had been peopled that season by a colony of humble-bees as Samson's was, the subject of our sketch arrived  and the pleasure of that introduction he will never forget.

— A Renfrewshire Bee-keeper

1895 - Ki-ote Seed & Nursery Company

This was an interesting cover from the

 Ki-ote Seed & Nursery Company. 

I live near Wethersfield, Connecticut, home of the famous Wethersfield onions.  To find them featured in a South Dakota seed catalog was unexpected.
Don't ask why, but it was, and it got my attention.

 I'll look around and see what I can find out about the Ki-ote company.