down our way Sunday
afternoon and take a plain, simple look at my garden, eat a little lemon
ice-cream and jelly-cake, and drink a glass of native lager-beer. I
thought of putting up over my gate, "Welcome to the Nation's Gardener;"
but I hate nonsense, and did n't do it. I, however, hoed diligently on
Saturday: what weeds I could n't remove I buried, so that everything
would look all right. The borders of my drive were trimmed with
scissors; and everything that could offend the Eye of the Great was
hustled out of the way.

In relating this interview, it must be distinctly understood that I am
not responsible for anything that the President said; nor is he, either.
He is not a great speaker; but whatever he says has an esoteric and an
exoteric meaning; and some of his remarks about my vegetables went very
deep. I said nothing to him whatever about politics, at which he seemed
a good deal surprised: he said it was the first garden he had ever been
in, with a man, when the talk was not of appointments. I told him that
this was purely vegetable; after which he seemed more at his ease, and,
in fact, delighted with everything he saw. He was much interested in my
strawberry-beds, asked what varieties I had, and requested me to send
him some seed. He said the patent-office seed was as difficult to raise
as an appropriation for the St. Domingo business. The playful bean
seemed also to please him; and he said he had never seen such impressive
corn and potatoes at this time of year; that it was to him an unexpected
pleasure, and one of the choicest memories that he should take away with
him of his visit to New England.

N. B.--That corn and those potatoes which General Gr-nt looked at I
will sell for seed, at five dollars an ear, and one dollar a potato.
Office-seekers need not apply.

Knowing the President's great desire for peas, I kept him from that part
of the garden where the vines grow. But they could not be concealed.
Those who say that the President is not a man easily moved are knaves
or fools. When he saw my pea-pods, ravaged by the birds, he burst into
tears. A man of war, he knows the value of peas. I told him they were an
excellent sort, "The Champion of England." As quick as a flash he said,
"Why don't you call them 'The Reverdy Johnson'?"

It was a very clever bon-mot; but I changed the subject.

The sight of my squashes, with stalks as big as speaking-trumpets,
restored the President to his usual spirits. He