the united sweets of art and nature, was the best adapted to delicate repose.

Even the severer philosophers of antiquity were wont to discourse in the shade of a spreading tree, in some cultivated plantation. It is obvious, on intuition, that nature often intended solely to please the eye in her vegetable productions. She decorates the flowret that springs beneath our feet in all the perfection of external beauty. She has clothed the Garden with a constant succession of various hues. Even the leaves of the tree undergo a pleasing vicissitude. The fresh verdure which they exhibit in the spring, the various shades which they assume in summer, the yellow and russet tinge of autumn, and the nakedness of winter, afford a constant pleasure to a lively imagination. From the snow-drop to the moss-rose, the flowergarden displays an infinite variety of shape and colour. The taste of the florist has been ridiculed as trifling'; yet surely without reason. Did nature bring forth the tulip and the lily, the rose and the honey-suckle, to be neglected by the haughty pretender to superior reason? To omit a single social duty for the cultivation of a polyanthus, were ridiculous as well as criminal; but to pass by the beauties lavished before us, without observing them, is no less ingratitude than stupidity! A bad heart finds little amusement except in communication with the active world, where scope is given for the indulgence of malignant passions; but an amiable disposition is commonly known by a taste for the beauties of the animal and vegetable creation.

The

A practical. attention to gardening is by some esteemed a degrading employment. It is true, indeed, that pastoral and agricultural manners, if we may be lieve the dignified descriptions of Virgil, are greatly degenerated. The employments of shepherds and husbandmen are now become mean and sordid. work of the garden is usually left to a peasant; nor is it unreasonable to assign the labour, which wearies without amusement, to those who are sufficiently amused by the prospect of their wages. But the ope rations of grafting, of inoculating, of pruning, of trans

planting, are curious experiments in natural philosophy; and, that they are pleasing as well as curious, those can testify who remember what they felt on seeing their attempts succeed.

Among the employments suitable to old age, Cicero has enumerated the care of a Garden. It requires no great exertion of mind or body; and its satisfactions are of that kind which please without agitation. Its beneficial influence on health is an additional reason for such an occupation at an age when infirmities abound.

A very limited track, properly attended to, will furnish ample employment for an individual. Nor let it be thought a mean care; for the same hand that raised the cedar, formed the hyssop on the wall. Even the orchard, cultivated solely for advantage, exhibits beauties unequalled in the shrubbery; nor can the green-house produce an appearance to exceed the blossom of the apple and the almond.

Happy were it, if the amusement of managing a Garden were more generally relished. It would surely be more conducive to health, and the preservation of our faculties to extreme old age, were that time, which is now devoted to the dice and to the cardtable, spent in the open air, and in active employ

ment.

The pleasures of Gardening are within the reach of the feebler sex, and of almost every rank and age. While the titled and the opulent indulge themselves in the pleasure of arranging and directing their hothouses, conservatories, and parterres; those of humble rank and condition may with as much pleasure watch the culture, and forward the growth, of the few herbs and flowers that deck their rustic gardens. Nature, ever true, tints with as bright a blush the rose that opens on the cottage casement, as the cereus that expands its golden petals in the palace window; bleaches with as pure a whiteness the lily that peeps by the cotter's broken rail, as the magnolia that adorns the decorated green-house; and draws from the lowly bosom of the former as sweet a gale of

fragrance, as exudes from the rich breathings of the latter.

Had the rich earth been only made
Her creature's various wants to aid;
Had heaven so fram'd the whole,
That one wide, flat, unshaded plain,
Self-warm'd, and self-bedew'd with rain,
Had fed each living soul-

Due still our grateful praise would be,
Almighty architect! to thee,

For nature's bounteous plan :
But oh what raptures of delight
Creation's fair embellish'd sight

Calls forth from wond'ring man!
What superfluity of love

Descends in beauty from above!
What harmony around

Attunes the breathing earth and sky,
And swells, in murm'ring majesty,
Through all the blue profound!

Her colour pours upon the scene
Her alt'ring shades of sunny green!
How the grey rocks on high,
Streak'd by the cataract's wintry course,.
Or shatter'd by the thunder's force,
In gathering darkness lie!

Yon softer hill, beneath the rock,
Half-cover'd by the whit'ning flock
That roams its verdant side,
With seeming exultation sees
The natural diadem of trees

Run round it deep and wide.

And oh! that sweet uprising show'r,

Balm breath'd from herb, and fruit, and flow'r!
When bright with April dews,

The landscape gleams, and arch'd above,
The pictur'd pledge of heavenly love
Spans the whole vernal view.

Who here can lose, with blinded sense,
The beam of pure benevolence,

To raise the human heart

To Him who fram'd this balanc'd globe?
'Twas girded with so fair a robe,

'Twas grac'd with matchless art.

That hand of heavenly art is here,
Where, down the winding vale, appear
The roofs of rustic straw;
And spiral wreaths of airy blue,
Mount from the peaceful cottage, true
To beauty's native law.

That hand of art bestows

The mingled life, the light that flows
Where nature's fountains play;
When the morn wakes their misty stream,
Or evening's yellow lustres gleam
Along their fading way.

That hand of heavenly art is seen
Brightest in virtue's eye serene,

Where truth and fondness dwell-
What angel mind can picture thee,
Thou vision of tranquillity!

What tongue presume to tell?

The pleasures of the Garden are heightened by the constant variety and succession of objects which it presents to us. Plants, fruits, herbs, and trees, grow and prosper under our eyes, assuming every diversity of appearance. Flowery paths meet our feet, and new changes produce ever new delights. From the first rising of the plant above the ground, to its development and full bloom, new beauties are presented to our admiring sight, relieving the tedium of continued uniformity and sameness.

Our first parents being placed by the Creator in a delightful garden, it naturally leads us to infer that the study of nature was intended as a reasonable and pleasant employment for man.

Go! mark the matchless workings of the power
That shuts within the seed the future flower;
Bids these in elegance of form excel,

In colour these, and those delight the smell;
Sends nature forth, the daughter of the skies,
To dance on earth, and charm all human eyes.
COWPER.

Milton is never more happy than when he is representing the first happy pair employed in cultivating their delightful garden. He makes Adam, when dis

coursing on the beauties of Paradise, thus to express himself:

About me round I saw

Hill, dale, and shady wood, and sunny plains,
And liquid lapse of murm'ring streams; by these,
Creatures that liv'd and mov'd, and walk'd or flew
Birds on the branches warbling; all things smil'd
With fragrance; and with joy my heart o'erflow'd.

The very name of Eden signifies pleasure; and the idea of happiness is always associated with the Garden. Mrs. Barbauld beautifully observes, that—

Flowers, the sole luxury which nature knew,
In Eden's pure and guiltless garden grew-
Gay without toil, and lovely without art,

They sprung to cheer the sense, and glad the heart.
Thomson invites the flowery tribe to join in the
general chorus of praise to the general Creator:—
Soft roll your incense, herbs, and fruits, and flowers!
In mingled clouds to Him, whose sun exalts,

Whose breath perfumes you, and whose pencil paints. The same poet, in allusion to the beautiful hues and fragrant odours of the flowers, thus exclaims:

Array'd

In all the colours of the blushing year,
By nature's swift and secret-working hand,
The garden glows, and fills the liberal air
With lavish fragrance.

The elegant Knox has well observed, that a good heart is necessary to enjoy the beauties of nature:

"To the wicked, and indeed to all who are warmly engaged in the vulgar pursuits of the world, the contemplation of rural scenes, and of the manners and natures of animals, is perfectly insipid. The odour of flowers, the purling of streams, the song and plumage of birds, the sportive innocence of the lamb, the fidelity of the dog, are incapable of attracting, for one moment, the notice of him whose conscience is uneasy, and passions unsubdued. Invite him to a morning walk through a neighbouring wood, and he begs to be excused; for he loves his pillow, and can see no charms in trees. Endeavour to allure him, on a vernal evening, when, after a shower, every leaf breathes fragrance and freshness, to saunter with you in the garden, and he pleads an engagement at