Puzzle, that a fmall Body of regular Troops would gain over a numberless undifciplined Militia. C N° 477 Saturday, September 6. An me ludit amabilis Infania? audire & videor pios Quos & aquæ fubeunt & aura. Does airy Fancy cheat Hor. Od. 4. 1. 3. v. 5. My Mind, well-pleas'd with the Deceit ? I feem to bear, I feem to move, And wander thro' the happy Grove, Where Smooth Springs flow, and murm❜ring Breeze Wantons thro' the waving Trees. SIR, HA CREECH. AVING lately read your Effay on the Pleasures of the Imagination, I was fo taken with your Thoughts upon fome of our English Gardens, that I cannot forbear troubling you with a Letter upon that Subject. I am one, you must know, who am looked upon as an Humourift in Gardening. I have feveral Acres about my Houfe, which I call my Garden, and which a skilful Gardener would not know what to call. It is a Confufion of Kitchin and Parterre, Orchard and Flower-Garden, which lie fo mixt and interwoven with one another, that if a Foreigner, who had feen nothing of our Country, fhould be convey'd into my Garden at his firft landing, he would look upon it as a natural Wildernefs, and one of the uncultivated Parts of our Country. My Flowers grow up in several Parts of the Garden in the greatest Luxuriancy and Profufion. I am fo far from being fond of any particular one, by reafon of its Rarity, that if I meet with any one in a Field which pleases me, I give it a place in my Garden. By this means, when a Stranger walks with me, he is furprised to fee feveral large Spots of Ground cover'd with ten thousand different Colours, and has often fingled out Flowers that he might have met with under a common Hedge, in a Field or in a Meadow, as fome of the greatest Beauties of the Place. The only Method I obferve in this Particular, is to range in the fame Quarter the Products of the fame Season, that they may make their Appearance together, and compofe a Picture of the greatest variety. There is the fame Irregularity in my Plantations, which run into as great a Wildness as their Natures will permit. I take in none that do not naturally rejoice in the Soil, and am pleased when I am walking in a Labyrinth of my own raifing, not to know whether the next Tree I fhall meet with is an Apple or an Oak, an Elm or a Pear-Tree. My My Kitchin has likewife its particular Quarters affigned it; for befides the wholfom Luxury which that Place abounds with, I have always thought a Kitchin-Garden a more pleafant Sight than the finest Orangery, or artificial Green-house. I love to fee every thing in its Perfection, and am more pleased to survey my Rows of Colworts and Cabbages, with a thoufand nameless Pot-herbs, fpringing up in their full Fragrancy and Verdure, than to fee the tender Plants of Foreign Countries kept alive by artificial Heats, or withering in an Air and Soil that are not adapted to them. I muft not omit, that there is a Fountain rifing in the upper part of my Garden, which forms a little wandring Rill, and administers to the Pleasure as well as the Plenty of the Place. I have fo conducted it, that it vifits most of my Plantations; and have taken particular Care to let it run in the fame manner as it would do in an open Field, fo that it generally paffes thro' Banks of Violets and Primrofes, Plats of Willow, or other Plants, that seem to be of its own producing. There is another Circumftance in which I am very particular, or, as my Neighbours call me, very whimfical: As my Garden invites into it all the Birds of the Country, by offering them the Conveniency of Springs and Shades, Solitude and Shelter, I do not fuffer any one to deftroy their Nefts in the Spring, or drive them from their ufual Haunts in Fruit-time. I value my Garden more for being full of Blackbirds than Cherries, and very frankly give them Fruit for their Songs. By this means I have always the Mufick of the Seafon in its Perfection, and am highly delighted to fee the Jay or the Thrush hopping about my Walks, and shooting before my Eye across the feveral little Glades and Alleys that I pafs thro'. I think there are as many kinds of Gardening as of Poetry: Your Makers of Parterres and Flower-Gardens, are Epigrammatifts and Sonneteers in this Art: Contrivers of Bowers and Grotto's, Treillages and Cafcades, are Romance Writers. Wife and London are our heroick Poets: and if, as a Critick, I may fingle out any Pafiage of their Works to commend, I fhall take notice of that Part in the upper Garden at Kenfington, which was at first nothing but a Gravel-Pit. It must have been a fine Genius for Gardening, that could have thought of forming fuch an unfightly Hollow into fo beautiful an Area, and to have hit the Eye with fo uncommon and agreeable a Scene as that which it is now wrought into. To give this particular Spot of Ground the greater Effect, they have made a very pleafing Contraft; for as on one fide of the Walk you fee this hollow Bafon, with its feveral little Plantations lying fo conveniently under the Eye of the Beholder; on the other fide of it there appears a feeming Mount, made up of Trees rifing one higher than another in proportion as they approach approach the Centre. A Spectator, who has not heard this Account of it, would think this Circular Mount was not only a real one, but that it had been actually scooped out of that hollow Space which I have before mention'd. I never yet met with any one who has walked in this Garden, who was not ftruck with that Part of it which I have here mention'd. As for myself, you will find, by the Account which I have already given you, that my Compofitions in Gardening are altogether after the Pindarick manner, and run into the beautiful Wildness of Nature, without affecting the nicer Elegancies of Art. What I am now going to mention, will, perhaps, deferve your Attention more than any thing I have yet faid. I find that in the Difcourfe which I spoke of at the Beginning of my Letter, you are against filling an English Garden with Ever-Greens; and indeed I am fo far of your Opinion, that I can by no means think the Verdure of an Ever-Green comparable to that which shoots out annually, and clothes our Trees in the Summer-Seafon. But I have often wonder'd that thofe who are like myfelf, and love to live in Gardens, have never thought of contriving a Winter-Garden, which would confift of fuch Trees only as never caft their Leaves. We have very often little Snatches of Sunshine and fair Weather in the moft uncomfortable Parts of the Year, and have frequently feveral Days in November and C 4 January |