Blessed be agriculture! if one does not have too much of it.  All literature is fragrant with it, in a gentlemanly way.  At the foot of the charming olive-covered hills of Tivoli, Horace (not he of Chappaqua) had a sunny farm:  it was in sight of Hadrian’s villa, who did landscape gardening on an extensive scale, and probably did not get half as much comfort out of it as Horace did from his more simply tilled acres.  We trust that Horace did a little hoeing and farming himself, and that his verse is not all fraudulent sentiment.  In order to enjoy agriculture, you do not want too much of it, and you want to be poor enough to have a little inducement to work moderately yourself.  Hoe while it is spring, and enjoy the best anticipations.  It is not much matter if things do not turn out well.

FIRST WEEK

Under this modest title, I purpose to write a series of papers, some of which will be like many papers of garden-seeds, with nothing vital in them, on the subject of gardening; holding that no man has any right to keep valuable knowledge to himself, and hoping that those who come after me, except tax-gatherers and that sort of person, will find profit in the perusal of my experience.  As my knowledge is constantly increasing, there is likely to be no end to these papers.  They will pursue no orderly system of agriculture or horticulture, but range from topic to topic, according to the weather and the progress of the weeds, which may drive me from one corner of the garden to the other.

The principal value of a private garden is not understood.  It is not to give the possessor vegetables or fruit (that can be better and cheaper done by the market-gardeners), but to teach him patience and philosophy and the higher virtues, hope deferred and expectations blighted, leading directly to resignation and sometimes to alienation.  The garden thus becomes a moral agent, a test of character, as it was in the beginning.  I shall keep this central truth in mind in these articles.  I mean to have a moral garden, if it is not a productive one,—­one that shall teach, O my brothers!  O my sisters! the great lessons of life.

The first pleasant thing about a garden in this latitude is, that you never know when to set it going.  If you want anything to come to maturity early, you must start it in a hot-house.  If you put it out early, the chances are all in favor of getting it nipped with frost; for the thermometer will be 90 deg. one day, and go below 32 deg. the night of the day following.  And, if you do not set out plants or sow seeds early, you fret continually; knowing that your vegetables will be late, and that, while Jones has early peas, you will be watching your slow-forming pods.  This keeps you in a state of mind.  When you have planted anything early, you are doubtful whether to desire to see it above ground, or not.  If a hot day comes, you long to see the young plants; but, when a cold north wind brings frost, you tremble lest the seeds have burst their bands.  Your spring is passed in anxious doubts and fears, which are usually realized; and so a great moral discipline is worked out for you.