FIjOWTJRS and the FRENCH REVOLUTION. 



[teanslatzd fkom the revue horticole.] 



There is a vein of pleasant satire in the 

 following article, so peculiarly French, and 

 so amusingly characteristic of the times on 

 the other side of the Atlantic, that we give 

 the following free translation, for the bene- 

 fit of those of our readers who have not 

 thought so profoundly as the hero of the 

 story, of the effect of liberty and equality 

 on the rank and beauty of the floral 

 world. Ed. 



My Dear Karr* — I remember you for- 

 merly, occupied, above all, with the care 

 of your garden, your budding and grafting, 

 your Roses and your Dahlias. In your lei- 

 sure hours, between the spade and the pen, 

 after indulging in a revery before the ocean, 

 you amused yourself by braving it in your 

 little fishing boat. 



Now, you are at Paris, encountering 

 another, more terrible sea ; a sea which, 

 at this moment, is lashing all its shores, 

 and whose waves are shaking thrones, and 

 causing monarchies to tremble. 



You are no longer a horticulturist ; but 

 an editor, bravely sharing in the great 

 struggle, and, doubtless, looking back with 

 regret to that delicious garden on the coast, 

 which you hope, by the grace of God and 

 your malelot, to find just as you left it. 

 But alas ! my friend, the tempest which 

 has agitated France and Europe, may well 

 have overturned gardens also. Old Pria- 

 pus threatens to become a republican. A 

 serious and important matter, of which, un- 

 til this moment, I had not dreamed, has 

 been revealed to me. The history is curi- 

 ous enough, and is worth relating. You 

 may lake advantage of it to warn those 



• Adilressedto M. Alphonse Kabb, adistiiigui'hed French 

 wnlw. 



readers of the Journal who, rejoicing in a 

 parterre, or even a few simple flower pots, 

 to grace their balcony or window, run the 

 risk, from that single fact, of being taken 

 for bad citizens, or being counted revolu- 

 tionary horticulturists. 



One of my country neighbors is a good 

 and worthy man, of an amiable tempera- 

 ment, but sometimes a little wild, as is the 

 case with all those who are entirely ab- 

 sorbed with one favorite idea. 



For some time past, I had only met him 

 at rare intervals ; and then he was anxious, 

 morose, absorbed in himself. His door was 

 almost always closed ; and if by chance he 

 opened it, it was not until he had carefully 

 inspected, from the window, the appearance 

 of the visitorwithout. At one time I thought 

 he was engaged in a conspiracy. Conspi- 

 rators multiply in these times, and they are 

 divided in two categories, — the old and the 

 new ; the former are prefects or judges ; 

 the latter, are arraigned before the old. 



My friend was neither prefect nor prison- 

 er. I did not know then in which category 

 to place him, when lately I met him as he 

 was leaving his house, after having doubly 

 locked his door. 



" Par6?eu, neighbor," said I, "what is 

 the meaning of this riddle ? You have 

 become completely invisible. Are you 

 making powder, or counterfeiting bank 

 notes? Three times, already, have I pre- 

 sented myself at your door. Your dog 

 alone answered me ; but he did not admit 

 me. Seriously, what are you doing ? What 

 has become of you ? Just this moment 

 you sought to escape me. Are you offended 

 with me ?" 



" No ! grand Dieu ! quite the contrary," 



