THE SIX OF SPADES. Cl 



and then plies his spade once more with a determination 

 and energy which induce the idea that he has solemnly 

 pledged himself to dig to the Antipodes before tea- 

 time. It is good, I say, to watch him at his work, 

 for " laborare est orare," and that work is prayer is as 

 true a text this day as when it cheered the hearts of 

 those toilsome monks, who were long the only, and 

 always the best, gardeners. 



So we, having seen Joe Grundy dig, were glad to 

 admit him into our Society of Spades. He is not 

 scientific, it is true. I recall mistakes in his nomen- 

 clature of plants, discreditable to its etymology. I 

 have heard him speak, for instance, of yallermandics, 

 camdcons, dolpliiniums, and the like. I know that in 

 spelling cactus he leads off with the letter K ; and I 

 am quite sure that he could no more repeat some of 

 the delightful titles which are given to flowers (let me 

 mention, by way of a nice little specimen, Siphocam- 

 pylos manettifeflorus) than an Ephraimite could say 

 Shibboleth. But there is a nobler language, my 

 friends, than is to be found in botanical dictionaries, 

 grand words of Truth, Goodwill, and Honesty; and 

 these Joseph Grundy speaks. There is a higher task 

 appointed than the precise orthography of tallies, 

 that we " learn to labour and to wait ; " and he 

 studies this lesson well. 



In his little intervals of leisure, the semibreve rests 

 of his solo on the spade, during which, to quote his 

 own expression, he is engaged in "catching his 

 wind," he is wont to survey with much contentment 

 the pleasant garden around him. It freshens him, he 

 says, to have a peep at the flowers, and to see things 



