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SIR;

GARDENER'S LETTER.

To the Editor of the Metropolitan Magazine.

My missis takes in your Mag., because she says that your Mag. is sometimes very divarting; more than I can say of all people's, for I often tell my wife to hold her mag, but like all women, she only talks the louder-but never mind that. Now, sir, you must allow me to introduce myself, and tell you who I am, and how it it is that I take the liberty to write to you. I am gardener to a lady who is very fond of flowers, and who spends a great deal of money every year; and a very good way of spending money, I think, for she gives work and comfort to a dozen or more poor families, while she honours God in making the most of his beautiful works. I forgot to say that I am head gardener, with many men under me, and that our garden is the surprise of them who do know any thing about flowers, and the 'stonishment of them who don't. I often feels, as I stand in the midst of all the beds of plants, and turns round and round, my eye catching every colour of the rainbow, and many more that the rainbow can't match, that I am a king, and that those pretty creatures are all my subjects, looking up to me for protection; and then I calls my ministers, and like the Centurion in the Scriptures, I have only to say "do this,” and he doeth it; for if they don't, I discharges them the next Saturday night. And I look at one bed of flowers, and see that they droop, and I says, "You want water, my dears, and you shall have it;" and when they are fresh and smiling through their tears of joy, as it were, they seem to thank me, and be so grateful; and then I thinks of God, and feel grateful too-that I want nothing. Now, sir, missis is in the garden best part of the day, and she brings out the newspaper and your Mag., and very often lays them down on one of the seats, and leaves them when she goes in. Then I takes my seat, and reads them both till dark, when I sends them into the house; and so I picks up a good many things from my missesses leavings, and somehow or another I gets into politics, which is very puzzling, and I scratches my head, and thinks for an hour or more, till I find I can make nothing of it at all. Still I sees in the main who's right, and as one must have an opinion, I think as a gardener that I chose well in being a Conservative. For what am I but a conservative? Have not I a conservatory for my plants? do not I preserve seeds and flowers in my hothouses? At one time I had an idea, as I was busy with dahlia and bulbous roots, that I ought by profession to be a Radical; but that was only for a short time. I was putting them up for the winter, and it was conservatism after all. But there was another reason which decided me, which is, that we have a power of ladies and gentlemen, who come to see our garden with tickets, on a Wednesday, so we have a regular sweep up on Tuesdays, and I knows 'em all by sight and by name, for they puts their names down on the visiting book, and as I reads the papers, and your Mag., I know which

be Whig which Radical, and which be Tory or Conservative. Now I finds that your Whigs and Radical people won't leave my flowers alone, they pulls at this, and breaks off that, while the Conservatives and Tory gentlemen behave as gentlemen, and leave things alone. I don't say a word about the ladies, 'cause they will take liberties, and can't keep their fingers quiet; but I don't so much mind that, for I consider a lady and a flower as natural sisters, and seldom thinks of one without thinking of t'other. But when I sees a Whig come into the garden, I calls my prime minister, Tom, and I says, "Tom," says I, "watch that chap quietly, and suppose you see him about to help himself, you cough, that 'ill frighten him." And many a good flower have I saved by a loud hem! I can tell you, sir; and it is all this which has decided me to be a Conservative, for I judge of people by their actions, and not by their talking.

Now, sir, I will confess to you that I am main puzzled about some things, and I don't much like to ask missis, because she's a lady, and thinks more of flowers than politics, and had sooner look upon her roses in full bloom, than upon the king going to the House of Lords. And so had I, for the matter of that, for I do think of all God's works, man is about the ugliest, though we are so proud, and so full of conceit about ourselves. That's my opinion.

Now, sir, the first question I would put to you is about education, which people now make such a fuss about, and which I can't make up my mind about at all. I reads a paragraff in the newspaper, the Times, (I cannot imagine how any man can write all that paper, double sheet too, sometimes, in one day,) well, it says how a young man has been brought up to the Old Bailey for forging the name of another man to a bill, and then that he was sentenced to transportation for life, and then I thinks, now, if this poor fellow hadn't been educated, this would never have happened. All this comes of education. As soon as I've settled that point in my mind, I reads the next paragraff, and then I finds that a brute has been stabbing his poor wife, and that he is locked up till they know whether she will recover or not; and then I says to myself, "Now, if that fellow had been educated, he would probably have known better." Then I am quite puzzled, and I should wish to have your opinion, sir. I thinks myself, that it would be better to educate the poor just enough to make it of use and advantage to them, but not too much, just as I have my two sons, who can write sufficient to make it out, but not so as to forge a man's name. But really, education goes on so fast now, that one don't know where one is-and children begin just about where I left off. We have a national school, and we have an infant school, and I think the infants are the cleverest of the two. I'm sure when I was there, and heard them sing in chorus, that butter was made from the milk of a cow, I learnt something before they had finished their song; but they did make a bit of a mistake the other day in the church, for all the infants were seated round the communion steps when the bishop came down to a confirmation, and as they were buzzing among one another, and making too much noise, the bishop, who is a very kind man, held up his finger to them, as much as to say, "Oh, fie, and hush!" when what did they all do but scream out together, as loud as

they could bawl, "perpendicular." I'm sure I never knew what perpendicular was, till long after I was grown up; but now, you see, sir, they begins mathematiks at two years old.

I should like, at the same time that you writes me your opinion about education, that you will also tell me something about this Corporation Bill, for I can't make it out. I see aldermen are mentioned

in it, and I know they are fat fellows. I myself am 'bout seventeen stone, and a short man, so you see, Mr. Editor, I feel that, having a no small share of corporation myself, I am very much interested about the matter, still I can't imagine why they should legislate for people's stomachs; but them Whigs are sad meddling fellows. That's my opinion.

I have only one more question to put to you, sir, and then I will finish this long letter. It is a kind of question of conscience, and I don't know what to make of it. You see, sir, the orticultural and other societies gives prizes for the best show of flowers, and I believe I gets more than any body else. They give medals, and money, and plate. I always takes the plate, and I have a great deal, which I shall leave to my eldest boy as a hare-loam. My master did the same with his plate chests, and I follows his plan, notwithstanding all the fuss about primogeniture. I considers it right, and that's my opinion. But that is not the question-it's about some scruples of conscience. You know, sir, new flowers always get the prizes, and I makes new flowers. My missis says to me the other day, "How do you contrive, gardener, to make so many new and beautiful flowers?" I laughs, and won't tell at first. At last, as missis would know, I says very softly to her, "Why, ma'am, the fact is, I high breeds them myself, when nobody is bye." Now, sir, I've been thinking whether that be right or not-cause, d'ye see, God made all the flowers as they grow, and there be beauty and variety enough to satisfy any man who has any conscience, and who don't want to get prizes; and did he intend that we should highbreed them, as we do now? Is not this making the flowers break the seventh commandment, besides being contrary to nature, and interfering with God's works? I've been thinking of this for some time, and should very much like your opinion on the subject. The bishop was here the other day, and I was very near putting the question to him, but I didn't like; and Lord Lcame down last week, and I thought of asking his legal opinion, but he was too busy with the dahlias. So I thought it better to put it to you-and begging pardon for giving so much trouble, I am, sir, Your obedient servant,

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As soon as I hear from you, and find that you are not displeased

with the liberty, I shall write again.

THE LIFE OF A SUB-EDITOR.1

BY THE SUB-EDITOR.

It is always a greater proof of courage to stand fire coolly than to fire. Captain Reud, I must suppose, wished to try the degree of intrepidity of his officers, by permitting the chase to give us several rounds of weighty objections against any more advance of familiarity on our parts. A quarter of a century ago there were some very strange notions prevalent in the navy, among which none was more common, than that the firing of the bow guns materially checked the speed of the vessel. The captain and the first lieutenant both held this opinion. Thus we continued to gain upon the corvette, and she, being emboldened by the impunity with which she cannonaded us, fired the more rapidly and with greater precision, as our rent sails and ravelled running rigging began to testify.

I was rather impatient at this apparent apathy on our parts. Mr. Burn, the gunner, seemed to more than participate in my feelings. Our two bow guns were very imposing looking magnates. They would deliver a message at three miles distance, though it were no less than a missive of eighteen pounds avoirdupois; and we were now barely within half that distance. Mr. Burn was particularly excellent at two things, a long shot and the long bow. In all the ships that I have sailed, I never yet met with his equal at a cool, embellished, intrepid lie, or at the accuracy of his ball practice. Baron Munchausen would have found no mean rival in him at the former; and were duels fought with eighteen pounders, Lord Camelford would have been remarkably polite in the company of our master of projectiles.

I was upon the point of writing that Mr. Burn was burning with ardour. I see it written-it is something worse than a puntherefore, per omnes modos et casus-heretical and damnable-consequently I beg the reader to consign it to the oblivion with which we cover our bad actions, and read thus. The gunner was burning with impatience to show the captain what a valuable officer he commanded. The two guns had long been ready, and with the lanyard of the lock in his right hand, and the rim of his glazed hat in the left, he was continually saying, "Shall I give her a shot now, Captain Reud?"

The answer was as provokingly tautologous as a member of parliament's speech, who is, in aid of the whipper-in, speaking against time. "Wait a little, Mr. Burn."

"Well, Mr. Percy," said the fat doctor, blowing himself up to me, "so you have been knighted-on the deck of battle too-knight banneret of the order of the light bobs."

I was standing with the captain's glass to my eye, looking over the hammocks. In order to get near me he had been obliged to cling

1 Continued from p. 78.

hold of the hammock-rails with both hands, so that his huge, round, red face, just peeped above the tarpaulin hammock-cloths, his chin resting upon them, no bad type of an angry sun showing his face above the rim of a black cloud, through a London November fog.

"Take care, doctor," I sang out, for I had seen the flashings of the enemy's guns.

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Light bobs," said the jeering doctor; when away flew the upper part of his hat, and down he dropped on the deck, on that part which nature seems to have purposely padded in order to make the fall of man easy.

"No light bob, however," said I.

The doctor arose, rubbing with an assiduity that strongly reminded me of my old schoolmaster, Mr. Roots.

"To your station, doctor," said the captain harshly.

"Spoilt a good hat in trying to make a bad joke;" and he shuffled himself below.

"Your gig, Captain Reud, knocked all to shivers," said a petty

officer.

This was the unkindest cut of all. As we were approaching Barbadoes, the captain had caused his very handsome gig to be hoisted in from over the stern, placed on the thwarts of the launch, and it had been in that position, only the day before, very elaborately painted. The irritated commander seized hold of the lanyard of one of the eighteen-pounders, exclaiming at the same time," Mr. Burn, when you have got your sight, fire!"

The two pieces of artillery simultaneously roared out their thunders, the smoke was driven aft immediately, and down toppled the three topmasts of the corvette. The falling of those masts was a beautiful sight. They did not rush down impetuously, but stooped themselves gradually and gracefully, with all their clouds of canvas. A swan in mid air, with her drooping wings broken by a shot, slowly descending, might give you some idea of the view. But after the descent of the multitudinous sails, the beauty was wholly destroyed. Where before there careened gallantly and triumphantly before the gale a noble ship, now nothing but a wreck appeared painfully to trail along laboriously its tattered and degraded ruins.

"What do you think of that shot, Mr. Farmer ?" said the little captain, all exultation. Pray, Mr. Percy, where did Mr. Burn's

shot fall ?"

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"One of the shot struck the water about half a mile to port, sir," said I, for I was still at my post watching the proceedings.

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"O Mr. Burn! Mr. Burn! what could you be about? It is really shameful to throw away his Majesty's shot in that manner. Mr. Burn!" said the captain, more in pity than in anger. Mr. Burn looked ridiculously foolish.

"O Mr. Burn," said I, "is this all you can show to justify your bragging?"

"If ever I fire a shot with the captain again," said the mortified gunner, “may I be rammed, crammed, and jammed in a mortar, and blown to atoms."

In the space of a quarter of an hour we were alongside of the Jean

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