THE SIX OF SPADES. 151 



Good lor, says I, don't talk to me, 

 Ise mon at Mestur Grundy's ! " 



So, I fear, it has been in many cases with the 

 gardener. He was promoted to serve in houses of 

 glass ; he was introduced to gorgeous company ; he 

 was wooed by a more brilliant and aggressive beauty ; 

 and he forgot, as he gazed upon such dazzling charms, 

 the sweet little modest maiden whom once he " loved 

 so well." 



But again I say " surprised," for who can pass 

 from the external gloominess of an English March, 

 the leafless hedges, the brown fallows, the slaty 

 clouds, the flowerless gardens, into a scene of the 

 liveliest, loveliest beauty, and not feel surprise? 

 And delight ! such a sudden and sweet refreshment ! 

 I remember, when I lived near London, being in a 

 crowded omnibus one sultry summer's day in the 

 Strand, with the large mother of a thirsty babe on 

 the one side, and a German Jew, who had not been 

 smoking the sort of tobacco which I like, on the 

 other. I was feeling about as comfortable as a 

 white camellia in a coal-pit, and was literally gasping 

 for breath, when the omnibus, having made an 

 unusual progress of nearly eighty yards, drew up 

 just opposite one of those narrow streets which lead 

 from the great thoroughfare to the Thames, and a 

 cool, fresh, delicious breeze from the river blew upon 

 my brow ! Such a revival to the floral spirit is the 

 first sight of the flowers of spring. 



Recall the charming diversity of colour and of 

 form which they, the annuals, perennials, and bulbous 



