nished with a robe of whiteness! Where, but in a garden, shall we see and hear, and press to our heart of hearts the precious wealth of a whole creation? Where, but in a garden, shall we meet with genuine heart-ease? Where, but in a garden, learn the sweet idleness that seems like a dream of Eden? Where, but in a garden, acquire the quick action and the anxious thought that prove us to be fallen creatures? Where, but in a garden, realize our dependence upon God, and understand the links that bind us to Him? Where else see the lilies "how they grow," and the sparrows that fall not but at His bidding? Where, but in a garden, feel the full remembrance that man fell from God in the very morning of his creation, and thenceforth read reproaches in the thorns and thistles that choke the pathway of His life? Where, but in the world of greenness, and life, and everlasting change, and the growth on growth of things indissolubly linked together, read the true lesson of God's love for us, and see the upward yearning of all things that teach us we may be saved? O heaven and O earth! in the garden is your meeting-place, for there God talked with Adam, and there the Saviour wept in agony for all. O polar frost, and O torrid sunshine! O bright orient, and O mysterious occident, your delicatest darlings here blossom side by side, and shake their honey-bells together; for a garden is a microcosm of the world, a living map of climes and seasons, a gathering of all things curious, and useful, and beautiful, from "the cedar that is in Lebanon to the hyssop that groweth on the wall;" and if it may be looked on as an open scroll of pictured emblems by

Almighty fingers, it also illustrates the parti-coloured structure of the human brain, which draws its knowledge from far sources, and spreads abroad ten thousand busy hands to grope and gather from darkness many sources of light and power. O moist palate! longing for luscious fruits. O dainty eye! seeking festivals of colour. O heart! panting for a lovely ministration, and expanding in the bliss of this hushed beauty, seek your joy in the garden, where the voice of God may still be heard among the trees, and a deep sense of peace shall possess thee.

A garden is a Divine institution, a Biblical reminiscence, a present solace, a refuge, a retreat. It is a joy all the year round, it keeps the mind active in invention, the hands diligent in labour, and the heart warm in its capabilities for love. It is the first hope of childhood, and age clings to it as an anchorage to earth, for in its presence it seems as if we could not die; for we talk of "next summer," when Death is already clasping our hands in his; and, as the chill of mortality freezes up the sources of life, the sight of a flower seems to dispel the darkness, and bring light and warmth from the very dust unto which we shall soon return. If I were to recount all that is comprised in the joy of a garden, I should have to sketch out a complete catalogue of human pleasures, from that highest and first of all, the contemplations of the Deity as He is revealed in His word and His works, to the hopeful labour of an infant planting a garden for a doll.

But, apart from things too high and reverend to be treated lightly, or things too trivial for a grown man to

try his pen upon, I think the first and chief pleasure of a garden is, that it compels one to be a gardener, which, of all wordly occupations, is the noblest, the most useful, and the one which promises the richest mental and material rewards. Compare the life and habits of a man who loves a garden to one who never in his life felt one touch of enthusiasm on the subject. Your gardener is a healthy, jovial fellow, with a hearty word for everybody; when he laughs, you hear him, for he cannot simper; when he greets you, it is with a grip of the hand that makes you feel, for he is incapable of a touch of fingertips, or a slow squeeze of cold palms; and it will be a rare thing if he does not live a "righteous, godly, and sober life," at peace with the world, and happy in the bosom of his family. A garden compels a man to be patient, diligent, and temperate-there is no compromise possible. The day-break is no signal for a "second sleep," but a call to fresh air and exercise, for one day's neglect may cause the ruin of things that represent many months, perhaps years of anxious care and watchful attention.

This out-door life not only keeps the blood in a healthy glow, and the brain active in its search for knowledge, but the meanest tasks are elevated even to dignity by the fact of their necessity. Hence, a man who is a thorough gardener feels no shame in handling the spade, or in wheeling rubbish to the pit; for though his means may enable him to enjoy all the refinements of life, it is his pride that there is not one manipulation but he can perform himself, and so a brown skin and hard hands give him no fear that he shall lose his claim to the title of

gentleman. And the world is very forgiving on this matter—its sympathies are with a gardener.

Here it is that a striking social and political feature arises out of gardening-that is, the levelling nature of it as a pursuit. In the presence of things for which men's sympathies are mutual, they forget distinctions of birth, and rank, and condition, and measure each other's worth only by their several degrees of skill ; so that if Hodge adorns his fence with a new rose of his own raising, my Lord will drop all superfluous dignities, and discuss its merits with him as a neighbour and a friend. This genuine feeling of manly regard, measured by worth only, ought to rob rivalry of every bitterness, and make even professional competitors glad of each other's successes; that it does not do so is to be charged against the fickleness of human sympathies, and the natural sordidness of man's heart; for gardening in itself suggests the purest ethics.

It would, indeed, be a folly to say that bitterness never did creep into the minds of rival florists, but it is the exception, not the rule, for every grower knows that what one does, another can do, and to acknowledge merit is to pay homage to intellect, and patience, and vigilance, and instead of hating the man for his success, we learn to emulate his virtues; so that rivalry in gardening is a school of practical morals, in which the pupils increase in excellence as they make progress in the successful prosecution of their favourite art.

This truly fraternal feeling, to which every petty pride yields up the ghost, manifests itself in a thousand pleasing ways, which prove that gardening, whether followed

as a livelihood or as a pleasure only, is an art that ennobles all who share in its exercise. Make note of a man who has attained to high excellence in any one department, and measuring him by the world's rule, you will not expect him to impart to you one jot of information which may help you to similar success. But, put the thing to experiment, and once let him see that the spirit of a true gardener moves you in questioning him, and he will lay before you his whole routine, will show you his compost, and tell you how it is prepared; will tell you when and how to make your cuttings, let you into the secrets of stopping and training out, and put you in the way to beat him, if you can, with his own weapons. Look at our leading nurserymen, one and all, they do their best to help the amateur in his pleasing occupation; the results of years of observation and experience are placed at the disposal of all to whom they may be useful, and they would be as incapable of any paltry exclusiveness as they would be of paltry dealings and low chicanery.

A spirit of generosity is a most distinctive feature in the character of a gardener; he is perfectly miserable if he can find no one to accept a pinch of seed or a few cuttings of some choice thing; to keep it to himself is as much agony as a boy endures when he sees no opening for the investment of his pocket money.

Go through the whole catalogue of gifts, and what can equal flowers and fruits? It is not only a diffusion of God's bounty, but a sacrifice to friendship of the most valued labour of our hands; so that if we have toiled a whole season to produce a noble crop, we find