I left the hull letter with the clark, and axed him where on arth a chap could git a smashing bunch of posies, if he took a notion to want sich a thing. He told me to go right straight up to Mr. Hogg's, clear up town along the East River, and said that I'd better git aboard a Harlem car, and it would carry me right chock agin the spot for a ninepence.

"Wal," sez I, "the expense aint nothing to kill, so I guess I'll ride."

With that, I got into one of them allfired awk'ard things that look like a young school-house sot on wheels, and running away with the scollars stowed inside; and arter shelling out my ninepence, we sot out up Centre-street, through the Bowery, and all along shore, till we stopped short nigh agin the Astoria ferry, clear up town. Arter searching around a little, I found Mr. Hogg's gardin, and went in. A great, tall, good-natured looking chap cum up to me as I was a peaking about—a feller that made me feel hum-sick in a minit, he looked so much like our folks.

"How do you du?" sez I, "I'm tickled to see you; they told me that you keep posies about these ere premises, but I don't see no signs of 'em."

"Oh," sez he, as good as pie, "come this way, and I guess we can find as many as you want."

"Wal, that'll be a good many, for I'm a hard critter on marygolds and holly-hocks," sez I, "and I want a smashing heap on 'em."

With that, Mr. Hogg, instead of taking me into a garden, jest opened the door of a great long, low house, with an allfired great winder covering the hull roof, and sez he—

"Walk in."

I guess I did walk in, for the house was chuck full of the harnsomest trees and bushes that I ever sot eyes on, all kivered over with posies, and smelling so sweet, that a bed of seed onions, jest as it busts out in a snow-storm of white flowers, aint nothing compared to it. Didn't I give good long snuffs as I went in! This idea, to my notion, of posies amongst big trees and bushes, are like wimmen folks and young ones in the world of human natur. If they arnt good for something else they are plaguey harnsome to look at, and the world would be awful dark and scraggy without them. Some wimmen may be bad enough and hateful as henbane, but consarn me if I wouldn't rather love thorn bushes than none at all.

There was one tree that took my eye the minit I went in; it hung chuck full of great big oranges, and tell me I lie right out, it there wasn't a swad of white posies a busting out through the great green leeves in hull handfuls, all around on the same limbs where the oranges were a growing. Think sez I, this raly is a ginuine scripture lesson, spring and fall a gitting in love with each other and hugging together on the same bush; oh, gracious! how the parfume did pour out from the middle of that tree! I felt it a steaming up my nose and creeping through my hair, till I begun to feel as sweet as if I'd been ducked all over in a kettle full of biled rose leaves.