MANURES. 91 



last chapter (p. 'jS), because it is impossible in 

 many cases to exaggerate its worth; but I alluded 

 at the same time to another indispensable addi- 

 tion which must be made to the soil of a Rose- 

 garden, and now I will tell you what it is : I will 

 tell you where I found the Philosopher's Stone in 

 the words of that fable by ^sop, which is, I be- 

 lieve, the first of the series, and which was first 

 taught to me in the French language: — ''Un coq, 

 grattant sur ti^i fiiniier, trouvait par hazard une 

 pierre precieuse ;'' or, as it is written in our English 

 version : " A brisk young cock, in company with 

 two or three pullets, his mistresses, raking upon a 

 dunghill for something to entertain them with, 

 happened to scratch up a jewel." The little alle- 

 gory is complete : I was the brisk young cock, 

 my favorite pullet was the Rose, and in a heap of 

 farm-yard manure I found the treasure. 



Yes, here is the mine of gold and silver, gold 

 medals and silver cups for the grower of prize 

 Roses; and to all who love them, the best diet for 

 their health and beauty, the most strengthening 

 tonic for their weakness, and the surest medicine 

 for disease. " Dear me !" exclaims some fastidi- 

 ous reader, ** what a nasty brute the man is ! He 

 seems quite to revel in refuse, and to dance on his 

 dunghill with delight!" The man owns to the 



