But I apprehend my readers will begin to think I have led them by the nose quite long enough; and lest they should suspect that I am making a handle of the subject, I shall conclude at once with a SONNET TO MY OWN NOSE. O nose! thou rudder in my face's centre, Though oft invisible, for ever nigh; Scenting the gales of Heaven, that have not yet WALKS IN THE GARDEN.-No. I. Heureux qui, dans le sein de ses dieux domestiques, DELILLE. A GENTLE fertilizing shower has just fallen-the light clouds are breaking away-a rainbow is exhibiting itself half athwart the horizon, as the sun shoots forth its rays with renewed splendour, and the reader is invited to choose the auspicious moment, and accompany the writer into his garden. He will not exclaim with Dr. Darwin, 66 Stay your rude steps! whose throbbing breasts enfold but he would warn from his humble premises all those : 66 fect -From that sapphire fount the crisped brooks, Let him also banish from his recollection the far-famed garden of Alcinous, which however, as Walpole justly observes, after being divested of Homer's harmonious Greek and bewitching poetry, was a small orchard and vineyard, with some beds of herbs, and two fountains that watered them, enclosed within a quickset-hedge, and its whole compass only four acres. Such was the rural magnificence which was in that age deemed an appropriate appendage to a palace with brazen walls and columns of silver. - Modern times, however, have shewn us how much may be accomplished in a small space. Pope, with the assistance of Lord Peterborough, "to form his quincunx, and to rank his vines," contrived to impart every variety of scenery to a spot of five acres; and might not, perhaps, have been insincere when he declared, that of all his works, he was most proud of his garden.—But a truce to these deprecations and dallyings with our own modesty: the breezes are up, the sky is cloudless; let us sally forth, and indulge in the associations and chitchat suggested by the first objects that we encounter. This border is entirely planted with evergreens, so benignantly contrived by nature for refreshing us with their summer verdure and cheerfulness, amid the sterility and gloom of winter. This, with its graceful form, dark-green hue, and substantial texture, is the prickly-leaved Phillyræa, said to have been first brought into Europe by the Argonauts, from the island of the same name in the Pontus Euxinus. From the river Phasis in Colchis these voyagers are reported to have first introduced pheasants, though many writers contend that the whole expedition was fabulous, and that all the bright imaginings and poetical embellishments lavished upon the Golden Fleece, resolve themselves into the simple and not very dignified fact of spreading sheep-skins across the torrents that flowed from Mount Caucasus, to arrest the particles of gold brought down by the waters. Our own Crusades, however irrational their object, were attended with many beneficial results, not only introducing us to the knowledge of Saracenic architecture, but supplying our European gardens with many of the choicest Oriental productions. While we are on the subject of the Crusades, let us not omit to notice this Planta genista, or broom, said to have been adopted in those wars as a heraldic bearing, and ultimately to have furnished a name to our noble English family, the Plantagenets. Next to it is the Arbutus, the most graceful and beautiful of all plants, and nearly singular in bearing its flowers and strawberry-like fruit at the same time, although the florets be but the germ of the next year's fruit. Virgil seems to have been very partial to this elegant shrub. By its side is a small plant of that particular Ilex, or holm oak, on which, in the south of Europe, more especially in Crete, are found those little insects, or worms, called kermes, whence a brilliant scarlet dye is extracted, and which are so rapidly reproduced, that they often afford two crops in a year. From these small worms the French have derived the word vermeil, and we our vermillion; though the term is a misnomer, as the genuine vermillion is a mineral preparation. The Juniper-tree need not detain us long, now that its berries are no longer used for flavouring gin, the distillers substituting for that purpose oil of turpentine, which, though it nearly resembles the berries in flavour, possesses none of their valuable qualities. Box and Arbor vitæ, those treasures of our ancient gardeners, may also exclaim that their occupation is nearly gone, since the taste for verdant sculpture is exploded, and giants, animals, monsters, coats of arms, and peacocks, no longer startle us at every turn*. Yews also, which, *This false taste, however, may boast the sanction of a most classical age. Pliny, in the description of his Tuscan Villa, |