Mr. Editor - A long interregnum has passed since my pen laid aside its meddling with your pages. Bodily ailments, a gouty limb - I do confess to a twinge of the gout, now and then, with other infirmities - and some little necessary travelling, have prevented my responses to the frequent calls of your correspondents, to whom, I trust my random scrib-blings have given less pain than pleasure. Should the former sensation at any future moment preponderate, or even a symptom of lassitude come over their spirits, in reading me, exeunt omnes will, in the phrase of the play, shut my further intrusion from their sight.

Critique On The January Horticulturist #1

And so, my instructive old friend, you are nestled down in soft, sunny, drab-coated Philadelphia! the land of rich gardens, generous soils, and skilful cultivators. It is well. Since your sudden departure from Albany, where a most sad event deprived you of the genial spirit which hovered over your early years, and directed your vigorous manhood, I learned that you had taken up your abode among the tree-growers of far away Rochester and the lakes, where I had almost lost sight of you; but now that you are emerged into the cheerful sunlight of the Atlantic, I bail the continued vigor of your career with pleasure. We once had pleasant talks together, and if you do not object, in my old way and fashion, we will renew our wonted intercourse - premising, by the way - that if I grow tiresome at any time, the slightest intimation will silence my pen. To commence, then, I send you my Critique on the January Horticulturist.