The gardener said nothing, but he thought of what he had long intended to do—to use the lovely sunshiny place which formerly he had no control over. It should become the pride of the garden and the delight of the family. The great trees had crushed and broken the old box-hedges with all their cut shapes. He raised here a thicket of plants,home-plants from field and forest. What no other gardener had thought of planting in the flower-garden, he set here in the kind of soil eachshould have,and in shade or sunshine as every kindrequired.He tended it in love, and it grew in magnifi-cence. Snow-berry bushes from the heath in Jutland,in form and colour like Italian cypress; the smooth, pricklyholly, always green,in winter's cold and summer'ssun, stood there lovely to look at.In front grew ferns,many different kinds, some looked as if they were the children of palm trees, and some as if they were the par-ents of the fine, lovely plant we call Venus's hair.Herestood the slighted burdock, which in its freshness is sobeautiful that it can be put in a bouquet. The burdock stood on dry ground, but lower down in the damper soil grew the colt's foot, also a despised plant, and yet withits fine height and huge leaves so picturesquely beauti-ful.Fathom high, with flower above flower, like a huge, many-armed candelabrum, the cow's lung-wort lifted itself. Here stood the wood-ruff, the marsh- marigold, and the lily of the valley, the wild calla, andthe fine three-leaved wood-sorrel. It was a delight to see. In front, supported on wire fences , little Frenchpear trees grew in rows; they got sun and good care,and very soon they bore big, juicy fruit, as in the coun-try they came from. In place of the two leafless trees, there was a big flag-staff on which waved the Danish flag, and close beside it apole, on which in summer and autumn hops with their sweet-smelling clusters twined themselves, but where in thewinter, according to old custom, a sheaf of oats was raisedthat the birds of the air could have their meal at the joyousChristmas time. " The good Larsen is growing sentimental in his old age," said the family;" but he is faithful and devoted tous." At New Year time, one of the illustrated papers of thecapital had a picture of the old manor; one saw the flag-staff and the sheaf of oats for the birds, and it was thought that an old custom should be brought into recognition and honour; so distinctive for theold manor. "All that Larsen does," said the family,"they beatthe drum for. He is a lucky man! We must almost beproud that we have