"I thank you, sir No one so gracious as your grudging man Under compulsion! With your kind consent I'll ride a little further," she replied,-- "For I enjoy it quite as much as you-- The more because you've given me little chance In these last years.... Now, soberly, this art Of which we talk so much, without the power To tell exactly what we understand By the hack term--suppose we take the word, And try to find its meaning. You recall Old John who dressed the borders in our court: You called him, hired him, told him what to do. He and his rake stood interposed between You and your work. You chose his skilful hands, Endowing them with pay, or pledge of pay, And set him at his labor. Now suppose Old John had had a philosophic turn After you left him, and had thought like this: 'I am called here to do a certain work-- My rake tells what; and he who called me here Has given me the motive for the job. The work is plain. These borders are to be Levelled and cleaned of weeds: my hand and rake Are fitted for the service;--this my art; And it is first of all the arts. There's none More ancient, useful, worshipful, indeed, Than agriculture. Adam practised it; Poets have sung its praises; and the great Of every age have loved and honored it. This art is greater than the man I serve, And greater than his borders. Therefore I Will serve my art, and let the borders lie, And my employer whistle. True to that, And to myself, it matters not to me What weeds may grow, or what the master think Of my proceeding!' "So, intent on this, He hangs his rake upon your garden wall, And steals your clematis, with which to wind The handle upward; then o'erfills his hands With roses and geraniums, and weaves Their beauty into laurel, for a crown For his slim god, completing his devoir By buttering the teeth, and kneeling down In abject homage. Pray, what would you say, At close of day, when you should go to see Your untouched borders, and your gardener At genuflexion, with your mignonette In every button-hole? Remember, now, He has been true to art and to himself, According to his notion; nor forget To take along a dollar for his hire, Which he expects, of course! What would you say?" "Oh, don't mind that: you've reached your 'fifthly' now, And here the 'application' comes," I said.