ieties. Mrs. Onion, it must be allowed, took it as a slight, but she
was the only one that did, and she, presuming upon the having been much
at great dinners, imagined she must be qualified for any breakfast, not
considering she generally was obliged to go to them disguised or hid by
a veil, but she was a proof of the errors of self knowledge, as she
thought her scent far preferable to Mrs. Rose's.

The rest of the kitchen garden really wished to avoid mixing with the
_Ton_, among whom they justly allowed were many very valuable plants;
every class and order in this country may boast of them. The natural
soil is good, and much pains is bestowed on proper culture, yet in the
circles of dissipation there was reason to fear their health and good
habits might be injured, particularly as attempts had been made to
disseminate baneful seeds, though hitherto they had been kept down by
care and attention. Mrs. Apple-Tree, Mr. Cherry, Miss Currant, Miss
Gooseberry, the Beans, Peas, Potatoes, and Cabbages well knew their own
value, and despised the weak ambition of those who force themselves into
company they were not designed for.

Mrs. Rose would have liked to have got at the Mint, but it was so well
guarded by the Sages that she dared not make the attempt, knowing it
would be useless, and she could not presume to ask the Sages, or would
have been delighted to have had them--that is, all the family but Common
Sage, well imagining how much consequence she might acquire by even the
appearance of such an acquaintance, yet it was an absurd idea, as she
had not the smallest relish for their taste or anything Sage-like about
her, and the wish to be thought to possess talents she did not would, as
it always does, have made her contemptible to those who really have
them. True knowledge is highly valuable and respectable, but the
ignorant pretenders to it only make themselves objects of ridicule. Mrs.
Rose was fortunate enough to get some of the Bays brought to her, and
she thus trusted to have her breakfast properly celebrated in a poem
dedicated to the Rose Unique.

The bog plants had all contrived to be in the _Ton_, and the Misses
Rhododendron and the Misses Kalmia were greatly admired.

The breakfast was given on a beautiful green lawn, tastefully decorated,
in the middle of which was a fine piece of water, with a fountain
continually playing. Around were heaps of various sorts of soils, many
procured at great distances at an eno