Cato,[939] we find, speaks in high praise of garden cabbages:—indeed, it was according to their respective methods of garden cultivation that the agriculturists of early times were appreciated, and it was immediately concluded that it was a sign of a woman being a bad and careless manager of her family, when the kitchen-garden—for this was looked upon as the woman’s department more particularly—was negligently cultivated; as in such case her only resource was, of course, the shambles or the herb-market. But cabbages were not held in such high esteem in those days as now: indeed, all dishes were held in disrepute which required something else to help them down, the great object being to economize oil as much as possible; and as to the flesh-market, so much as a wish even to taste its wares was visited with censure and reproach. The chief thing that made them so fond of the garden was the fact that its produce needs no fire and ensures economy in fuel, and that it offers resources which are always ready and at hand. These articles of food, which from their peculiar nature we call “vinegar-diets,”[940] were found to be easy of digestion, by no means apt to blunt and overload the senses, and to create but little craving for bread as an accompaniment. A portion of them which is still used by us for seasonings, attests that our forefathers used only to look at home for their resources, and that no Indian peppers were in request with them, or any of those other condiments which we are in the habit of seeking beyond the seas. In former times the lower classes of Rome, with their mimic gardens in their windows, day after day presented the reflex of the country to the eye, when as yet the multitudes of atrocious burglaries, almost innumerable, had not compelled us to shut out all such sights with bars to the passers by. Let the garden, then, have its due meed of honour, and let not things, because they are common, enjoy for that the less share of our consideration—and the more so, as we find that from it men of the very highest rank have been content to borrow their surnames even; thus in the Valerian family, for instance, the Lactucini have not thought themselves disgraced by taking their name from the lettuce. Perhaps, too, our labours and research may contribute some slight recommendation to this our subject; although, with Virgil,[941] we are ready to admit how difficult it is, by language however elevated, to ennoble a subject that is so humble in itself. CHAP. 20.—THE LAYING OUT OF GARDEN GROUND.