THE JOY OF A GARDEN. 
69 
try his pen upon, I think the first and chief pleasure of a 
garden is, that it compels one to be a gardener, which, of 
all wordly occupations, is the noblest, the most useful, 
and the one which promises the richest mental and 
material rewards. Compare the life and habits of a man 
who loves a garden to one who never in his life felt one 
touch of enthusiasm on the subject. Your gardener is a 
healthy, jovial fellow, with a hearty word for everybody; 
when he laughs, you hear him, for he cannot simper; 
when he greets you, it is with a grip of the hand that 
makes you feel, for he is incapable of a touch of finger¬ 
tips, or a slow squeeze of cold palms; and it will be a 
rare thing if he does not live a “ righteous, godly, and 
sober life,” at peace with the world, and happy in the 
bosom of his family. A garden compels a man to be 
patient, diligent, and temperate—there is no compromise 
possible. The day-break is no signal for a “ second 
sleep,” but a call to fresh air and exercise, for one 
day's neglect may cause the ruin of things that represent 
many months, perhaps years of anxious care and watchful 
attention. 
This out-door life not only keeps the blood in a healthy 
glow, and the brain active in ids search for knowledge, 
but the meanest tasks are elevated even to dignity by the 
fact of their necessity, lienee, a man who is a thorough 
gardener feels no shame in handling the spade, or in 
wheeling rubbish to the pit; for though his means may 
enable him to enjoy all the refinements of life, it is his 
pride that there is not one manipulation but he can per¬ 
form himself, and so a brown skin and hard hands give 
him no fear that he shall lose his claim to the title of 
