them so far off, that out of sight, they are out of mind. It is astonishing what havoc this fastidiousness makes in our stock of happiness, when, under a false notion of elegance, it persuades us to part with the notion, that as men, we are to feel wants, and that to supply them is our natural employment. No; I would rather have the smell of tedded grass, or kine,' and that little Alderney close even to my drawing-room windows, were Queen Charlotte herself and her daughters there, than all the finery of lawns and orange trees, without a single reminiscence of our real condition. How much," added he, " do kings and queens, and overgrown nobles, and minions of wealth, lose, in being deprived of this sentiment, by having all things done for them! Who would not be miserable with Fortunatus' wishing cap!"

I felt the force of this reasoning, and also of the consequence he drew from it, that all good taste requiring natural feeling for its foundation, and the homely feelings being most natural of all, they were eminent ingredients in forming good taste.

"By the homely feelings," said he, “I mean all that relates to the comfort and convenience of a home; and so far I carry it, that the most common domestic sights and sounds, denoting the habitation and occupations of man, give me (as a matter of taste, mind you) more uniform and unfailing pleasure than many of the finest works of art."

I asked what sights and sounds he meant.

"Even a flock of pigeons on the house-top, if you will," he answered; "the smoke of chimneys, the

bark of the watch-dog, or the crow of a cock. I have even felt my taste gratified on returning from a twilight walk, in hearing the sound of cattle in a field, though perhaps I could not see them, biting the fresh grass or chewing the cud. I am not sure that I am not more pleased with this (though certainly not so struck with wonder) than with the columns of Staffa, the magnificence of Schaffhausen, or the falls of Lodore."

The animation with which he uttered this let me more into the essence of his character (that is, his enthusiasm) than any thing that had yet occurred; and though I did not quite agree with him, I both wished and expected more. Nor did he disappoint me, for the stream of his mind was perpetual, espe cially on the subject we were upon, for he said, whoever had pleasure in a garden, need never stir out of it.

"I would not indeed," said he, "exchange the elegance, beauty, and perfume, and above all, the soothing of this spot, for all the gratifications which ambition can give. For when did ambition cause any thing like the delight of the mere opening buds of the spring, the blush and the sweetness of the rose, or what has been appropriately called the noble plainness of the lily?' I say soothing,' because it is the most appropriate term I can apply to it, when in a particular frame of mind. For if any thing ruffles me (which, thank God! in this retirement is but seldom), if I have any unpleasant feeling to get the better of, or even any bad public news, half a dozen

turns in this daisy-studded walk, particularly if fresh with showers, recovers me directly."

“That,” said I, "I can fully comprehend, and the soothing you have mentioned makes me feel the propriety of, perhaps, an extraordinary comparison which Bacon makes of the perfume of a garden, to strains of music floating in the air, coming and going.'

“I thank you for recollecting it," said Mr. Manners; "for, though extraordinary, it is a pretty comparison, and it were amusing to follow it up. It, however, can be only to the softer and more pathetic airs of music that flowers can be likened, and even they must be of the gentler and more delicate kind; those violets and lilies of the valley, for example, those anemonies, heart's case, polyanthus, and we may admit a few young rosebuds. These may remind us of the softer and more pathetic, as well as elegant strains in the graceful minuets of Handel and Gluck. But very full-blown roses, narcissus, pinks, and gaudy tulips, do not come under the head of soothing, any more than chorusses, overtures, or grand sinfonias."

I thought this both playful and just, and he seemed to like it himself, when, as if recollecting himself, he said:

"If I mistake not, I left here yesterday a book (we were close to an alcove), where all I feel on this subject is developed in far better language than mine."

At this, having found the book, he read: "Gardens have charms, that to me exceed all the pleasures of life. It was a garden that was the earthly paradise of our first parents in a state of innocence: it was

in a garden that Epicurus taught his philosophy, who was said to have understood true pleasure the best of any man. But suffice it to say, that when you grow into years-when you begin to exercise the mind more than the body, as men before they grow old always do then you will find the help of it to contemplation; then the walks, the trees, the plants, the birds, the open air, all fellow-creatures of yours, made together with you, for his pleasure-who is, the Author of all things-will please you indeed; when especially the innocence, calmness, and serenity of your thoughts, make you fit for so divine and ravishing an exercise."

Here he closed the book, and I expressed to him my pure and sincere pleasure in hearing such eloquent and feeling passages, and asked who was the author?

"It will surprise you more," said he, " when I tell you that he was no recluse, afraid of the world, or to mix in its storms, but an eminent statesman, and one of the very few whose character was not only stainless, but illustrious, among those who brought about the Revolution-it was King William's Lord Privy Seal, the Viscount Lonsdale. Honour him, too, the more, that he was educated at Sedbergh, like you, and like you removed to Queen's."

This put me into raptures with all he said so well upon the garden subject.

"And yet," observed Mr. Manners, resuming it, "as to gardens, I have a crotchet which you will perhaps be shocked with. Much as I love, admire, and delight in flowers, if I had but one, I should fer the kitchen garden.'

pre

"What, lose the elegance of flowers?"

"Yes, rather than the benefit of herbs. For again I say, man thinks of what is necessary before what is ornamental; he was a cook before he was a gentleman; and I regard scentless flowers, at least, with all their painted charms, and even those that emit the sweetest perfumes, when I think how ephemeral they are, as I have regarded many of their pretty and perfumed sisters in the world, as beautiful and as ephemeral as they. How many of these look fair, and bloom for a time, but are only attractive to the eye, and for the moment, and are wholly without power to charm the mind or fix the heart. Such are by far too many of those beautiful tulips of flesh and blood, (all show, but no fragrance), who throng our drawingrooms, radiant in colours, brim-full of accomplishments (made so by what is called female education), but totally devoid of powers of companionship, or capacity to perform the higher duties of the

sex."

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Surely," said I, "this is not the character of woman ? "

Certainly not of all women,” replied he, “but as certainly of the greater part of those who revel in the reckless whirl of a London season. These know not one sober thought or generous emotion, at least during that time; all is a thankless waste of spirits and mind on glittering nothings, and they return to the country so shattered, both in body and soul, that even there, before they can recover, a second madness bursts out by the renewal of the season, and a second