108 MY FARM. 



It is not a little odd that the back-country gentle 

 man, who replies to all such suggestions, that he 

 cares nothing for appearances shall yet never ven 

 ture to a militia muster, or a town meeting, without 

 slipping into the press for the old black-coat, and 

 the black beaver (giving it a coquettish wipe with 

 his elbow) to say nothing of the startling shirt-col 

 lars, whose poise he studies before the keeping-room 

 mirror. 



He contracts too for a staring white coat of paint 

 upon his house and palings, and a mahogany-colored 

 door, out of the same irresistible regard to &quot; what 

 people will say.&quot; But in all this, he does not do one 

 half so much for the education of his children into a 

 perception of order and elegance, as if he bestowed 

 the same care upon the neatness of his yard and gar 

 den, where their little feet wander every day. 



It would be hard to estimate the educating effect 

 of the gardens of the Tuileries and Luxembourg upon 

 the minds of those artisans of Paris, who, living in 

 garrets, and too poor for anything more than a little 

 rustic tray of flowers upon their window ledge, are 

 yet possessed of a perception of grace, which shines 

 in all their handiwork. And if you transport them 

 to the country their own Auvergne or Normandy 

 they cannot, if they would, make slatternly gardens : 

 they will not indeed repeat the brilliant tints of Paris 



