fure as well as the Plenty of the Place. I have fo conducted it, that it vifits moft 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 Willows, or other Plants, that feem to be of its own producing. There is another Circumstance in which I am very particular, or, as my Neighbours call me, very whimsical: 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 destroy 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 see the Jay or the Thrush hopping about my Walks, and shooting before my Eye across the feveral little Glades and Alleys that I pafs through. I think there are as many kinds of Gardening as of Poetry: Your Makers of Parterres and FlowerGardens, 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 Paffage 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

you fee this hollow Bafin, 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 the Center. 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 had walked in this Garden, who was not ftruck with that Part of it which I have here mentioned. As for my felf, 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, deserve your Attention more than any thing I have yet faid. I find, that in the Difcourfe which I fpoke 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 wondered that thofe who are like my felf, and love to live in Gardens, have never thought of contriving a Winter-Garden, which would confift of fuch Trees only as never caft the Leaves. We have very often little Snatches of Sunshine and fair Weather in the most uncomfortable Parts of the Year, and have frequently feveral Days in November and January that are as agreeable as any in the finest Months. At fuch times, therefore, I think there could not be a greater Pleasure, than to walk in fuch a Winter-Garden as I have propofed. In the Summer-Seafon the whole Country blooms,

and

and is a kind of Garden, for which reason we are not fo fenfible of those Beauties that at this time may be every where met with; but when Nature is in her Defolation, and prefents us with nothing but bleak and barren Profpects, there is fomething unfpeakably chearful in a Spot of Ground which is cover'd with Trees that smile amidst all the Rigours of Winter, and give us a view of the most gay Season in the midst of that which is the most dead and melancholy. I have fo far indulged my felf in this Thought, that I have fet apart a whole Acre of Ground for the executing of it. The Walls are covered with Ivy instead of Vines. The Laurel, the Hornbeam, and the Holly, with many other Trees and Plants of the fame nature, grow fo thick in it, that you cannot imagine a more lively Scene. The glowing Redness of the Berries, with which they are hung at this time, vies with the Verdure of their Leaves, and are apt to infpire the Heart of the Beholder with that vernal Delight which you have somewhere taken notice of in your former Papers. It is very pleasant, at the fame time, to see the feveral kinds of Birds retiring into this little green Spot, and enjoying themselves among the Branches and Foliage, when my great Garden, which I have before mention'd to you, does not afford a single Leaf for their Shelter.

You must know, Sir, that I look upon the Pleafure which we take in a Garden, as one of the most innocent Delights in human Life. A Garden was the Habitation of our first Parents before the Fall. It is naturally apt to fill the Mind with Calmness and Tranquillity, and to lay all its turbulent Paffions at reft. It gives us a great infight into the Contrivance and Wisdom of Providence, and fuggests innumerable Subjects for Meditation. I can. not but think the very Complacency and Satisfaction which a Man takes in these Works of Nature,

to

to be a laudable, if not a virtuous Habit of Mind. For all which Reasons, I hope you will pardon the Length of my prefent Letter.

IT

T happened lately, that a Friend of mine, who had many things to buy for his Family, would oblige me to walk with him to the Shops. He was very nice in his way, and fond of having every thing fhewn, which at firft made me very uneafy; but as his Humour still continued, the things which I had been staring at along with him, began to fill my Head, and led me into a Set of amufing Thoughts concerning them.

I fancied it must be very furprizing to any one who enters into a detail of Fashions, to confider how far the Vanity of Mankind has laid it self out in Dress, what a prodigious number of People it maintains, and what a Čirculation of Mony it occafions. Providence in this Cafe makes ufe of the Folly which we will not give up, and it becomes inftrumental to the Support of those who are willing to labour. Hence it is, that Fringe - makers, Lace-men, Tire-women, and a number of other Trades, which would be useless in a fimple State of Nature, draw their Subfiftence; tho' it is feldom feen that fuch as these are extremely rich, becaufe their original Fault of being founded upon Vanity, keeps them poor by the light Inconftancy of its Nature. The Variableness of Fashion turns VOL. VII.

C

the

the Stream of Bufinefs which flows from it now into one Channel, and anon into another; fo that different Sets of People fink or flourish in their turns by it.

FROM the Shops we retir'd to the Tavern, where I found my Friend exprefs fo much satisfaction for the Bargains he had made, that my moral Reflections (if I had told them) might have pafs'd for a Reproof; fo I chofe rather to fall in with him, and. let the Discourse run upon the Ufe of Fashions. . HERE we remembred how much Man is govern'd by his Senfes, how livelily he is ftruck by the Objects which appear to him in an agreeable manner, how much Clothes contribute to make us agreeable Objects, and how much we owe it to our felves that we should appear fo.

WE confidered Man as belonging to Societies; Societies as formed of different Ranks; and different Ranks diftinguifhed by Habits, that all proper Duty or Refpect might attend their Appearance.

WE took notice of feveral Advantages which are met with in the Occurrences of Conversation. How the bafhful Man has been fometimes fo rais'd, as to express himself with an Air of Freedom, when he imagines that his Habit introduces him to Company with a becoming Manner. And again, how a Fool in fine Clothes fhall be fuddenly heard with Attention, till he has betray'd himself; whereas a Man of Senfe appearing with a Drefs of Negligence, fhall be but coldly received, till he be proved by Time, and established in a Character. Such things as these we cou'd recolle& to have happen'd to our own knowledge fo very often, that we concluded the Author had his Reafons, who advises his Son to go in Drefs rather above his Fortune than under it.

AT laft the Subject feem'd fo confiderable, that it was proposed to have a Repofitory built for Fa

fhions,