Tao-Yen-Ming, the man of letters, is the author of a long piece, entitled “Back in the Country,” of which the following is the principal passage:
“My garden was just beginning to run wild,
But happily there still remain pines and chrysanthemums.
Having cultivated myself I return home,
Where my young boy jumps into my lap,
And a vase of wine awaits me on the table.”
And this man of letters, in spite of repeated invitations from the Emperor, contented himself with living and dying in the midst of his chrysanthemums, which he loved passionately.
We are not, however, satisfied in China with mere cultivation, but have succeeded in developing our gardening operations into a real work of art. What with watering, grafting, the selection and scientific combinations of species, the great varieties both of our plants and our skill in shaping them into the most varied and most fantastic shapes, our gardens are veritable masterpieces of the art. The Chinese gardeners know how to transform their gardens into zoological gardens, cutting and bending their trees, as they do, into lions, dragons, and every other kind of animal. We are so fond of flowers, that a single spray is considered sufficient for a bouquet. One never sees those round bouquets of several kinds of flowers, which are fashionable in Europe, at home.
Listen to the following verses written by an amateur gardener:
“What an admirable sight is this sunset,