82 A BOOK ABOUT ROSES. 



after I came near the place again — was it a 

 mirage which I saw on the sandy desert ? There 

 were vegetables, fruit-bushes, and fruit-trees, all 

 in vigorous health ; there were flowers, and the 

 flower-queen in her beauty. *' Why, Will," I ex- 

 claimed, '* what have you done to the gravel- 

 bed?" '* Lor' bless yer," he replied, grinning, '* I 

 hadn't been here a fortnight afore I swopped it for 

 a pond!'' He had, as a further explanation in- 

 formed me, and after an agreement with a neigh- 

 boring farmer, removed with pick and barrow his 

 sandy stratum to the depth of three feet, wheeled 

 it to the banks of an old pond, or rather to the 

 margin of a cavity where a pond once was, but 

 which had been gradually filled up with leaves 

 and silt ; and this rich productive mould he had 

 brought home a distance of 200 yards, replacing 

 it with the gravel, and levelling as per contract. 

 Some other neighbor had given him a cartload of 

 clay, and the children had '' scratted together a 

 nicst bit o' muck, and he meant stirring up them 

 cottagers at next show with Roses and ' kidneys' 

 too." 



It occurred to me, as I rode home reflecting, 

 that there was a striking similarity in this case, as 

 in many others, between the gardener and his 

 ground; for Will had been at one time a drinking, 



