58 



By George C. Barrett. As^riculiure, HortieulUire, and Floriculture. — 

 Three sisters more amiable than the three Graces, and more useful than the 

 nine Muses. 



By B. V. French. Horticultural .Associations, whose pursuits are pleasant, 

 and lead to results, not, like many others, founded on selfishness, but con- 

 ferring essential benefits on the whole human race. 



Anonymous. The Emperor jYicholas. An Anti-Horitculturist He has 

 undertaken to engraft the noblest scions in the icy region of Siberia, in the 

 vain hope of blasting the Tree of Liberty. May he soon learn that he has 

 attacked a tree, whose roots are fixed from Pole to Pole. 



By Z. Cook, Jr., Esq , 1st Vice-President, after General Dearborn had 

 retired. H. Jl. S. Dearborn, the worthy President of the Massachusetts Horti- 

 cultural Society. His indefatigable labors, in both the scientific and prac- 

 tical departments of Horticulture, reflect equal honor upon himself, and 

 benefit upon the Society over which he so ably presides. 



Anonymous. If he be a benefactor, who instructs us how two spires of 

 grass may grow where but one grew before, let everlasting gratitude, and 

 the Society's first premium, be awarded to the man who shall devise (and 

 make public) a method by which beets and turnips may be raised without 

 tops, and peas without pods. 



Other toasts were uttered and responded too numerous for insertion. 



ODE, 



Wiilten for the Anniversary Dinner of the Massachusetts Horticultural 

 Societi/, Wednesday, October 3, 1832. 



BY MISS H. F. GOULD. 



]^Sung, during the entertainment, by Mr. J. W. Newell, of Chaiiestown.] 



From him who was lord of the fruits and the flowers 

 That in Paradise grew, ere he lost its possession — 

 Who breathed in the balm and reposed in the bowers 

 Of our garden ancestral, we claim our profession; 

 While fruits sweet and bright, 

 Bless our taste and our sight, 

 As e'er gave our father, in Eden, delight. 

 And fountains as pure in their crystal, still gush 

 By the 'V^ine in her verdure, the Rose in her blush. 



While others in clouds sit to murmur and grieve, 



That Earth has her wormwood, her pit-falls, and brambles, 

 We, smiling, go on her ricli gifts to receive 



Where the boughs drop their purple and gold on our rambles. 

 Untiring and free. 

 While we work like the bee, 

 We hear off" a sweet from each plant, shrub, and tree. 

 Where some will find thorns but to torture the flesh. 

 We pluck the ripe clusters our souls to refresh. 



X /^yr i/Sa.^^t:^^' ^y^-4^^i€^'<r^ 



