things are but the free gifts of Providence to himself, and he learns at last that it is a pleasure, as well as a duty, to give. This head of cabbage shall be sent to a poor neighbor; that basket of refreshing fruit is reserved for the sick; he has pretty nosegays for his female friends; he has apples or peaches for little people; nay, perhaps in the course of years, he at length achieves the highest act of generosity—he bestows on some friendly rival a portion of his rarest seed, a shoot from his most precious root! Such deeds are done by gardeners.
Horticulture is not carried on upon a great scale anywhere in this county. We regret that this should be so. A large garden, where taste and knowledge have full scope, is indeed a noble work, full of instruction and delight. The rare trees and plants brought with toil, and cost, and patience, from distant regions; the rich variety of fruits and vegetables; the charming array of flowers, are among the most precious and the most graceful trophies of commerce, and industry, and adventure. Such gardens, whether public or private, are always desirable in a neighborhood. They are among the best gifts of wealth, and scatter abroad too many benefits to deserve the doubtful name of a luxury. If we have none near enough to bring good to our own rural village, it is at least pleasant to remember that other communities are more fortunate than ourselves. When one cannot enjoy some particular good thing one's self, a very little charity, and a very little philosophy, lead one to be glad, at least, that others may profit by it.
A very striking proof of the civilizing effect of large gardens may be seen any day in the great towns on the Continent of Europe, whether in France, Italy, Germany, &c., &c. In those old countries, where grounds of this kind have been more or less open
