OBSERVATIONS ON FLORICULTURE AND HORTICULTURE. 9 



In a like strain, the author of ' Human Life' beautifully says, — ' I 

 would not have my garden too extended ; not because flowers are 

 not the most delicious things, speaking to the sentiments as well as 

 to the senses, but on account of the intrinsic and superior value of 

 moderation. When interests are divided they are not so strong. 

 Three acres of flowers, and a regiment of gardeners, bring no more 

 pleasure than a sufficiency. Besides which, in the smaller possessions 

 there is more room for the mental pleasure to step in and refine all 

 that which is sensual. We become acquainted, as it were, and even 

 form friendships with individual flowers. We bestow more care 

 upon their bringing up and progress. They seem sensible of our 

 favour, absolutely to enjoy it, and make pleasing returns by their 

 beauty, health, and sweetness. In this respect a hundred thousand 

 roses, which we look at en masse do not identify themselves in the 

 same manner as even a very small border ; and hence, if the cot- 

 tager's mind is properly attuned, the little cottage garden may give 

 him more real delight than belongs to the owner of a thousand acres. 

 All this is so entirely nature, that give me a garden well kept, how- 

 ever small, two or three spreading trees, and a mind at ease, and I 

 defy the world.' It is impossible, therefore, to view, without the 

 greatest delight, the progress which the taste for these pure and 

 simple pleasures is making among the working classes of the com- 

 munity ; and we cannot but regard it as a sign of a healthy state of 

 society when the cottager is seen rearing his sunflowers and sweet- 

 williams before his door, and the mechanic breeding his prize-com- 

 peting auriculas with as much honest pride and zeal as the nobleman 

 can take in his hothouses and conservatories. Crabbe has given a 

 striking description of the operation of this taste in his friend the 

 weaver, for whom — 



' Is blooming in his rich array 



The glorious flower which bore the palm away ; 



In vain a rival tried his utmost art ; 



His was the prize, and joy o'erflowed his heart ; 



"This, this is beauty ! cast, I pray, your eyes 



On this my glory ! see the grace- — the size ! 



Was ever stem so tall, so stout, so strong, 



Exact in breadth — in just proportion long? 



These brilliant hues are all distinct and clean, 



No kindred tint, no blending streaks between; 



This is no shaded, run-off", pin-eyed thing — 



A king of flowers — a flower for England's king."' 



