George E. Buxton of Nashua, N. H.
George E. Buxton, of Nashua, N. H., was one of my first patrons. I became acquainted with him during the first S. A. F. convention in Boston, and paid him a visit shortly afterward. His greenhouses at that time were located on Vine street, in the opposite direction from where his place is today. About 1892, he transferred his place to its present location, and enlarged it from time to time. Mr. Buxton is a grower of great ability, and ranks among the best in New England. A few years ago he became known to the trade throughout the country by his introduction of the "Silver Pink Snapdragon," which has become a great favorite among growers in every section. Our business relations for the past quarter of a century or more have been pleasant, and I look upon Mr. Buxton as one of my most esteemed friends among the florists.
Attractions of the City of Boston
The city of Boston has always a very great attraction for me. My entrance into its portals seems to inspire me with a sense of coming in contact with culture, notwithstanding the assertion of Mr. E. G. Hill a few years ago that that particular feature of Boston has long since been transferred to Indianapolis.
I like its crooked streets, although I have lost myself many a time in their mazes; I like its Faneuil Hall, its Bunker Hill, its King's Chapel, its Park Street Church, and even its excellent underground railway system, although the last named lacks the historical significance of the others. It more than makes up for the lack, though, by the convenience it affords its thousands of patrons in giving them quick transportation.
I like its historic cemeteries, planted in the heart of the city. They carry me back to the days when the men that rest there were alive and active in behalf of the young and budding country.
I like its Commons, and I like the spirit that opposes strenuously the idea of transforming this magnificent space, that affords the people so much air, rest and recreation, into a busy mart. The Commons are what the name implies; this piece of ground is supposed to be sacred to the use of the people of Boston. There on a Sunday one will hear various "isms" expounded by earnest supporters who consider it their special duty to bring enlightenment to the benighted public. Here a man exhorts his audience to lead a true Christian life; there another promises elixir for all human ills in the form of Socialism; farther on a third is urging Theosophy as the only means of seeing the true light.
And who hasn't heard about Boston's pork and beans and brown bread, that delight the epicure? I confess that I never tasted the pork and beans, but according to all the enthusiastic reports I am quite convinced that this dish is veritable ambrosia.
And last, but by no means the least, I like the Boston florists. I like their progressive spirit, their ambition to excel, their liberality, their geniality. While in Boston I always make it a point to leave a call with the hotel clerk for six in the morning. At that early hour the two flower markets commence their activities. Hundreds of florists from the surrounding towns and villages bring in their flowers, and the retail florists, not only in Boston, but from many surrounding towns as well, come there to purchase their daily supplies. They are perfect bee-hives, especially during the busy season, when the retail business is in its full swing. What is highly commendable is that the florists whose stalls adjoin each other fraternize and are on the friendliest terms with each other. Competition here does not carry with it the petty jealousies and questionable practices with which competition is usually charged. On the contrary, here they seem to work on the principle that what is good for the individual should be good for a number of individuals as well. Hence
