The Sun.
London, England, 1859-12-09 00:00:00

finds more exciting interest in grubbing up a few
weed:., or planting a row of seedlings, than he ever
experienced while cashing a heavy bill for Messrs.
Needham and Co.

We happen to know an elderly gentleman who
is a thorough representative of this numerous and
increasing race. He has given up his smoke-dried,
wall-surrounded house in Bedford-square, and en-
sconced himself in a rural villa, 12 miles from town,
with charmirg French windows opening to mossy
lawns, sparkling flower beds, mazy shrubberies, and
a kitchen plot in the distance, large enough to
supply the graniverous demands of the Reform
Club. llis wife has confidentially info/14d us
that his temper is not nearly so irritable since he
has taken to " doing a little gardening," and that
his attacks of gout and indigestion are much
lighter. Her confidence also enlightened us as to
the stan 3ard roses being extremely expensive—
that the "Duchess of Sutherland" (a fine imposing
blossom, certainly) and the Imperial Blush (very
scarce) cost as much as her last new dress ; and
that, at a random estimate, the cabbages averageil
sixpence per head, and the carrots threepence per
tail, to say nothing of the unknown quantity of
money sunk ina pet pinery and a choice vinery.
We were lingering about in his immediate vicinity
the other morning with a pet volume of Leigh H ant
in our hand, when we heard the groom rapidly
advance on the old gentleman's " whereabouts:"
"The phieton is ready, sir," said John to his civic
master ; but the master was hoeing away at an ob-
stinate dock-root, and perfectly oblivious of Thread-
needle-street and " Bradshaw." The old gentle-
man had. managed to " mess" the bottom of his
trousers pretty considerably; his hands must be
washed—his boots must be changed—his face is
very moist and florid, owing to the inveterate ob-
stinacy of the dock-root; and, after a rapid sum-
ming up of his condition, he arrives at the wise
conclusion that he cannot go by that train. "I
shall go by the half-past one, John," says the civic
master; and he again applied himself vigorously to
the dock-root,, which he at longth conquered.
Elated with the feat, he stood for a few moments
gazing on the annihilated weed with mingled triumph
and delight in his somewhat purple countenance,
and conceived a sudden fancy for clearing a conti-
guous herb-bed of " that nasty chickweed," setting
to at the work as though his reputation depended
on its performance. John came again, but the
elderly gentleman had found another most impera-
tive demand on his attention, and his opinion was
decidedly expressed that it was " too late to be of
a-Ay use in town," and he should not want the
phx-
ton. Ho toiled on, in a state of intense heat and
activity, until he was compelled to obey tne dinner
bell, and sat down to his fish and chicken with a
full conviction that he had materially added to the
high state of cultivation so generally observed by
those who visited his adored " garden," while the
head gardener expressed a strong private opinion
that " master generally did more harm than good."
Happy delusion ! It is pleasant to see the primitive
digging and delving tendency of childhood return
in men, when all that Fortune can bestow and all
that Ambition can achieve has served but to teach
that it is possible to have " too much of a good
thing," and that a bit of grass plot and a rood or
two of earth may take us as nigh to heaven as a
banker's counter. Not far distant from our friend's
villa, is a low mud-walled cottage, with a tiny
patch of ground attached, probably about thirty feet
by fifty; but the tiny patch is crammed with nas-
turtiums, rockets, sweet-williams, larkspurs, hen-
and•chicken daisies, scarlet runners, honeysuckle,
apple trees, currant bushes, and Flora and
Pomona know best what. It is a perfect floral
kaleidoscope; and it is suspected that the civic
gentleman covets a slip of that wonderful jasmine
which runs over the old wooden porch. The rich
merchant and the poor peasant both " love flowers."
Gardens are pleasant places. They were so when
under the classical patronage of Semiramis and
Alcinous, and they form charming, attractive
" green spots" in the world's arid choking waste in
these modern days, past and present, bearing the
patronymics of Ranelagh, Vauxhall, Versailles,
Tuileries, Kew, Rosherville, Kensington, or Cre-
morne. There is something refreshing in the very
word " garden." Whether the style be Italian or
Dutch, it is of little consequence as far as the gene-
ral impulse of humanity is coneerned. We admit
that we prefer to ramble where nature and art
keep up a becoming family feeling of union—yet,
when we find ourselves shut up with perfect
Euclidian right lines and angles, and peacocks cut
out of the box trees, whose only merit is that they
do not scream—yet, we say we cannot quarrel
with the pace they disfigure. We feel that a
" gardeii'was intended, and that is enough to sanc-
tify the most atrocious bad taste. " Flowers and
sweet green leaves" are among the most prominent
of the "beautiful and undying," and we reverently
recognise them as the silent minister of God's un-
fathomable power, and the unceasing shrines of
man's instinctive homage.

SPORTING INTELLIGENCE.

TATTERSALLS'-YESTP.RD

A very thin attendance. For the Derby, Umpire was
nominally- at Sto 1. The subjoined scanty list of quota-
tions comprise all the business transacted :