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whist, or at the bottle. Bid him listen to the thrush, the blackbird, the nightingale, the woodlark, and he interrupts you by asking the price of stocks, and inquiring whether the West India feet is arrived. As you walk over the meadows enamelled with cowslips and daisies, he takes no other notice but inquires who is the owner, how much the land lets for an acre, or what hay sold for at the last market? He prefers the gloomiest day in November, on which pecuniary business is transacted, or a feast celebrated, or a public diversion afforded, to all the delights of the merry month of May. He who is constantly engaged in gratifying his lust, or in gaming, becomes in a short time so very wise, as to consider the works of God in the creation, and the external beauty both of vegetable and animated nature, as little superior to a childish entertainment. How grave his aspect! No Solon ever looked so sapient as he does, when he is on the point of making a bet, or insidiously plotting an intrigue. One might conclude, from his air of importance, that man was born to shake the dice, to shuffle the cards, to drink claret, and to destroy, by debauchery, the innocence of individuals, and the peace of families. Ignorant and mistaken wretch! He knows not that purity and simplicity of heart would furnish him with delights, which, while they render his life tranquil and pleasurable, would enable him to resign his soul at death into the hands of his Maker unpolluted. What stains and filth it usually contracts by an indiscriminate commerce with the world! how comparatively pure amidst the genuine pleasures of a rural philosophical life!

As a preservative of innocence, and as the means of a most agreeable pasttime, the love of birds, flowers, plants, trees, gardens, animals, when it appears in boys, as it usually does, should be encouraged, and in a subordinate degree cultivated. Farewell innocence, when such things cease to be capable of affording pleasure! The heart gradually becomes hardened and corrupted, when its objects are changed to those of a worldly and a sensual nature.'

Man may indeed be amused in the days of health and vigour with the common pursuits of ordinary life; but they have too much agitation for the feeble powers of old age. Gentle amusements are then required, such as are capable of engaging the thoughts, yet require no painful or continued exertion. Happy he who has preserved to that age a taste for simple pleaA fine day, a beautiful Garden, a flowery field, are to him enjoyments similar in species and degree

sures.

to the bliss of Elysium. A farm yard, with all its inhabitants, constitutes a most delightful scene, and furnishes him with a thousand entertaining ideas. The man who can see without pleasure a hen gather her chickens under her wing, or the train of ducklings following their parent into a pond, is like him who has no music in his soul; and who, according to Shakspeare, is fit for treasons, murders, every thing that can disgrace and degrade humanity. I will forbid such a one (says Horace) to be under the same roof with me, or to embark with me in the same vessel.'

A taste for the beauties of vegetation is the mark of an uncorrupted mind, and, at the same time, one of the best preservatives of purity and innocence. It diverts the attention from turbulent scenes of folly, and superinduces a placid tranquillity, highly favourable to the gentler virtues, and to the permanency of our most refined enjoyments.

The superintendence of a Garden might of itself Occupy a life elegantly and pleasurably. Nothing is better able to gratify the inherent passion of novelty; for nature is always renewing her variegated appearShe is infinite in her productions, and the life of man may come to its close before he has seen half the pictures which she is able to display.

The beauty of colour, though justly esteemed subordinate to that of shape, is yet found to delight the eye more immediately, and more universally. When colour and shape are united in perfection, he who can view them with insensibility, must resign all pretensions to delicacy of perception. Such an union has been usually effected by nature in the formation of a flower.

There is scarcely a single object in all the vegetable world, in which so many agreeable qualities are combined as in the queen of flowers, the rose. Nature certainly meant to regale the senses of her favourite with that which should present to him at once freshness, fragrancy, colour, and shape. The very soul seems to be refreshed on the bare recollection of the pleasure which the senses receive in contemplating, on

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whist, or at the bottle. Bid him listen to the thrush, the blackbird, the nightingale, the woodlark, and he interrupts you by asking the price of stocks, and inquiring whether the West India fleet is arrived. As you walk over the meadows enamelled with cowslips and daisies, he takes no other notice but inquires who is the owner, how much the land lets for an acre, or what hay sold for at the last market? He prefers the gloomiest day in November, on which pecuniary business is transacted, or a feast celebrated, or a public diversion afforded, to all the delights of the merry month of May. He who is constantly engaged in gratifying his lust, or in gaming, becomes in a short time so very wise, as to consider the works of God in the creation, and the external beauty both of vegetable and animated nature, as little superior to a childish entertainment. How grave his aspect! No Solon ever looked so sapient as he does, when he is on the point of making a bet, or insidiously plotting an intrigue. One might conclude, from his air of importance, that man was born to shake the dice, to shuffle the cards, to drink claret, and to destroy, by debauchery, the innocence of individuals, and the peace of families. Ignorant and mistaken wretch! He knows not that purity and simplicity of heart would furnish him with delights, which, while they render his life tranquil and pleasurable, would enable him to resign his soul at death into the hands of his Maker unpolluted. What stains and filth it usually contracts by an indiscriminate commerce' with the world! how comparatively pure amidst the genuine pleasures of a rural philosophical life!

As a preservative of innocence, and as the means of a most agreeable pasttime, the love of birds, flowers, plants, trees, gardens, animals, when it appears in boys, as it usually does, should be encouraged, and in a subordinate degree cultivated. Farewell innocence, when such things cease to be capable of affording pleasure! The heart gradually becomes hardened and corrupted, when its objects are changed to those of a worldly and a sensual nature."

Man may indeed be amused in the days of health and vigour with the common pursuits of ordinary life; but they have too much agitation for the feeble powers of old age. Gentle amusements are then required, such as are capable of engaging the thoughts, yet require no painful or continued exertion. Happy he who has preserved to that age a taste for simple pleasures. A fine day, a beautiful Garden, a flowery field, are to him enjoyments similar in species and degree

to the bliss of Elysium. A farm yard, with all its inhabitants, constitutes a most delightful scene, and furnishes him with a thousand entertaining ideas. The man who can see without pleasure a hen gather her chickens under her wing, or the train of ducklings following their parent into a pond, is like him who has no music in his soul; and who, according to Shakspeare, is fit for treasons, murders, every thing that can disgrace and degrade humanity. 'I will forbid such a one (says Horace) to be under the same roof with me, or to embark with me in the same vessel.'

A taste for the beauties of vegetation is the mark of an uncorrupted mind, and, at the same time, one of the best preservatives of purity and innocence. It diverts the attention from turbulent scenes of folly, and superinduces a placid tranquillity, bighly favourable to the gentler virtues, and to the permanency of our most refined enjoyments.

The superintendence of a Garden might of itself occupy a life elegantly and pleasurably. Nothing is better able to gratify the inherent passion of novelty; for nature is always renewing her variegated appearance. She is infinite in her productions, and the life of man may come to its close before he has seen half the pictures which she is able to display.

The beauty of colour, though justly esteemed subordinate to that of shape, is yet found to delight the eye more immediately, and more universally. When colour and shape are united in perfection, he who can view them with insensibility, must resign all pretensions to delicacy of perception. Such an union has been usually effected by nature in the formation of a flower.

There is scarcely a single object in all the vegetable world, in which so many agreeable qualities are combined as in the queen of flowers, the rose, Nature

certainly meant to regale the senses of her favourite with that which should present to him at once freshness, fragrancy, colour, and shape. The very soul seems to be refreshed on the bare recollection of the pleasure which the senses receive in contemplating, on

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a fine vernal morning, the charms of the pink, the violet, the honeysuckle, the hyacinth, the narcissus, the jonquil, the rocket, the tulip, and a thousand others, in every variety of figure, scent, and hue; for nature is no less remarkable for the accuracy and beauty of her works, than for variety and profusion. As we walk under clusters of flowers, white as snow, tinged with gold, purple as the grape, blue as the expanse of heaven, and blushing like the cheek of youth, we are led to imagine ourselves in fairy land, or in another and a better world, where every delicate sense is delighted; where all around breathes fragrance, and expands beauty; where the heart seems to participate in the joy of laughing nature. Groves and gardens have, indeed, been always supposed to soothe the mind into a placid temper, peculiarly favourable to the indulgence of contemplation.

The following pretty description of flowers is from Hunt's "Descent of Liberty:"

Then the flowers on all their beds-
How the sparklers glance their heads!
Daisies with their pinking lashes,
And the marigold's broad flashes;
Hyacinth with sapphire bell
Curling backward, and the swell
Of the rose, full-lipp'd and warm,
Round about whose riper form
Her slender virgin-train are seen
In their close-fit caps of green:
Lilacs then, and daffodillies;
And the nice-leav'd lesser lilies,
Shading, like detected light,
Their little green-tipt lamps of white;
Blissful poppy, odorous pea,
With its wings up lightsomely;
Balsam with his shaft of amber,
Mignonette for lady's chamber;
And genteel geranium,

With a leaf for all that come;
And the tulip, trick'd out finest,
And the pink, of smell divinest;
And, as proud as all of them,
Bound in one, the garden's gem,
Heartsease, like a gallant bold,
In his cloth of purple and gold.

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