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4S468 
TO OUR READERS. 
Before another six months are passed, and we take up our pen once more to thank 
you, we hope that the swords now glittering over Europe will be resting in their 
scabbards, and many of the hands now upon their hilts be grasping the handle of the 
pruning-hook. Long before that time recurs, may many an eye now intent upon the 
hostile Eagle be dwelling in gentler mood over our pages ; and may many a tongue 
now cheering on to the fray of death be then saying with Warren Hastings, “ In this 
house I live, because it is the house of my infancy; and I love it as no alien 
could. Its grounds were in my mind all the time I was in the East, and on them I 
had fastened my affection.” We write this with the more earnestness, because, if we 
pause from our writing, we can look out upon a gardener well stricken in years, 
whose grey head is more bowed down since the day which brought the intelligence 
that his son had fallen before Sebastopol. 
t 
Midst this season of turmoil and bloodshed, the cultivation of the soil in our 
own island homes is one of the few arts that has advanced unchecked; and we have 
not relaxed in our efforts to aid in diffusing and imparting the best knowledge 
attainable relative to all its subjects. 
We have added to our list of able Contributors; we have increased our 
expenditure upon Illustrations ; and we have devoted more space to the “ Gardening 
of the Many.” Other improvements we have still in prospect: and when, like Janus, 
at the close of another period, we look back upon the past, as well as forward to the 
future, we anticipate and trust that we shall be able to say truthfully, “ From golden 
hours to golden hours we pass.” 
