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THE

CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN

ITS PETS AND ITS PLEASURES.

BY THE LATE

MISS HENEIETTA WILSON,

AUTHOR OF " LITTLE THINGS," ETC.

WITH A BRIEF MEMOIR

BY

JAMES HAMILTON, D.D., F.L.S.

NEW YOEK:
ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS,

No. 530 BROADWAY.
1 SG-i.

6^^

W69

•' I love my Garden ! dearly love
That little spot of ground !
There 's not, methinks, (though I may err
In partial pride,) a pleasanter
In all the country round."

Mrs Southey.

" God Almighty first planted a garden : it is the purest of human
pleasures ; it is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man."

Lord Bacon.

MEMOIE

MISS HENRIETTA WILSON.

The good and gifted writer of the following pages was
the daughter of Andrew Wilson, Esq., Main House. In
early life she lost her mother, and for some years found
a home with her grandmother in Queen Street, Edin-
burgh, under the same roof with her father's celebrated
brother, Professor John WUson. But there was another
uncle, at w^hose pleasant abode in the then secluded
suburb of ]\Iorningside she was a frequent visitor, and in
whose society from the first she greatly deKghted. His
garden was so fragrant and so bright with blossom,
there were about the place so many tame and liappy
creatures, and his own ways were so gentle and so
loving, that it was no wonder Woodville became to
her a little paradise, and its kind owner dear beyond

IV MEMOIE OF

all others. Nor was it long before she ceased to have
any home besides. Her aunt, Mrs James Wilson, to
whom she was tenderly attached, was an invalid, and
in ministering to her during a lengthened illness
Henrietta found the first outlet for that oenerous
self-devotion which distinguished her through life.
Notwithstanding haljits eminently active, and with a
fondness for flowers and rural walks little short of a
passion, many were the summer days when nothing
coidd tempt her from the bed-side of the suff'erer, and
many were the long and silent nights which she spent
anxiously watching in that dim chamber. Some would
have pitied as well as admired such sacrifice in one so
young ; but of self there was so little in Henrietta
Wilson, that victory over it always seemed quite easy.
And the labour of love had its own rew^ard. With her
large acquirements and her earnest piety, there were
always good lessons to be learned in Mrs Wilson's
society. She delighted in books, and many was the
volume with which her youthful companion first be-
came acquainted from reading it aloud to her aunt ;
and, best of all, she then acquired those habits of
tender sympathy and considerate kindness, which after-
wards so endeared her to her friends. It is thus that
" many are made white and purified." From that sick-

MISS HENRIETTA WILSON. V

room one passed away to join spirits made perfect ; the
ministering attendant who remained came forth an
angel unawares.

To the little boy and girl, her cousins, now mother-
less like herself, she became more than ever as an elder
sister, and to their heart-stricken father her quiet
unassuming helpfulness was a strong consolation, as
well as that glow of goodness which nothing could
quench, that cheerful hope in God which nothing over-
clouded. Her beloved uncle she greatly resembled in
her playful good sense and pleasant ways, as wxll as in
that warmth of affection which was continually gleam-
ing forth from behind the veil of a habitual retirim^-
ness ; and she was like him in his love of humour, and,
we may add, honourably like him in possessing a power
of satire which was never used for the purpose of giving
pain. Many of his tastes had also become her own.
She was an excellent entomologist, and, as this volume
shews, she fully shared with the kind-hearted naturalist
his attachment to plants and animals, along with a
great admiration of Wordsworth, and such poets as
have looked on nature through their own eyes, and not
through the eyes of others. So, mainly through the
subtile charm of one bright presence, the winter retreat
in George Square and the summer residence at Wood-

VI MEMOTE OF

ville, continued to retain that look of shaded happiness
as when the hope full of immortality shines out through
a great sorrow, till the day spring gradually returned,
and with it that voice of rejoicing which is heard in
the dwellings of the righteous *

A fear is sometimes expressed lest the love of the
lower creatures should absorb that benevolence of which
the more legitimate objects are the indigent and suffer-
ing members of our own human family. Of this fear
Miss Wilson was a daily confutation. Her piety, com-
prehensive and practical, took in the entire range of being
as far as she was acquainted with it, and instead of
evaporating in sentiment, it sought out its objects very
diligently, and laboured to make them happy. At the
Disruption she became an ardent adherent of the Free
Church, and along with her uncle joined the congrega-
tion of her cousin — the Eev. John Sym, of Free Grey-
friars — and gave herself to all his plans of Territorial
improvement. Shortly before her death she had be-
come superintendent of a mothers' meeting, where her
readings and explanations of Scripture were greatly
prized, as well as her plain and friendly counsels, and
her earnest, affectionate prayers : as one of the poor
women expressed it, " Miss Wilson's prayers aye gaed

* See Memoir.? of James Wilson, Esq., chap, vi.

MISS HENRIETTA WILSON. Vll

to my heart." Latterly she superintended the hibours
of a Bible woman. One result of her own visitations
amongj the nef^lccted families of the Cowo-ate was an
effort to introduce skilled and pious nurses into the
sick-rooms of the poor. Except it be through dire
necessity, the poor in Scotland are very reluctant to be
transferred from their own homes to a public hospital ;
and in the case of a sick mother, for example, taken
away from the oversight of her children, there are
doubtless grave drawbacks in such a removaL But
over and above the benefit to the patient of a skilful
attendant, Miss Wilson rightly judged that the leisure
and the solemnising circumstances of illness gave a
favourable opportunity for introducing the great message
of mercy ; and it was her hope that to the friends and
relations of the sufferer God might bless the earnest
words and kindly ministrations of these humble mis-
sionaries.

To this last object it was her dying request that the
proceeds of the present work should be given.* As
early as 1851 she published anonymously a little book
with the title, " Little Things." Unassuming, like its
author, its keen observation, its practical wisdom, and

* Contributions to the Medical Mission Sick-Nurse Fund will be
gratefully received by Mrs Sym, 37 George Square, Edinburgh.

vm MEMOIE OF

its fine tone of healthy Christian feeling, commanded
a large and speedy circulation, and secured a ready
welcome for its successors, " Homely Hints " and
" Things to be Thought of." The popularity of her
writings, however, did not enkindle any literary ambi-
tion, and, but for the benevolent object which she
sought to promote, it may be questioned whether these
" Chronicles of a Garden " would have been given to
the world. Still, like almost every thing she did, she
had pleasure in writing them, and had her life been
prolonged she would have had pleasure in revising
them, and in making them as perfect as possible.
Although she was never permitted to see a single
page in print, it was one of the last gratifications of
her life to receive the drawings which adorn the book
from the pencil of her dear and distinguished friend,
Dr R K. Greville ; and amidst the languor of a last
illness, her eye glistened with delight as she gazed on
this token of kindness from one who had long been
loved like a father at Woodville, and whom she knew
that she would by and by meet again beneath the tree
of life in the midst of the paradise of God.

Her heart had long been affected by rheumatism,
but it was not till mid-summer, I860, that there ap-
peared any symptoms of acute disease. On Friday,

MISS HENRIETTA WILSON. IX

the 5th of June, she and her cousin took their last
walk together. It was a cahn sunnner morning, and
they spent some hours at Braid Hermitage among the
lovely woods and glens — Miss Wilson exceedingly
enjoying the profusion of blossom, and listening with
eager delight to her old friends, the cuckoo and
wood-pigeon. But she looked fatigued, and in the
evening there was such a deadly paleness on her face,
that her cousin asked if she was not tired. " No, not
tired," was her answer, " but I feel my heart." For a
few days she remained quietly at home. On Saturday
she received a good many friends, and saw her Bible
woman, with w^hom she spent a long time .transacting
business, so that in the eveninoj sliewas much fao^sjed and
worn out. On Monday she employed herself arrang-
ing a drawer of insects, and, in spite of her cousin's
entreaties, sent for a cab to take her to a mothers'
meeting. It was a stormy day, wind and heavy rain,
and as with feeble steps and pallid face she left the
house, it was with unseen tears she was committed to
His keeping, in whose service she was spending these
last hours of activity. There was a large attendance
at the meeting. She had begun to read the book of
Nehemiah, and she sj^oke to the mothers on the duty
and privilege of ejaculatory pirayer whilst engaged in

X MEMOIR CF

the bustle and cares of life. She was not seemingly the
worse of these exertions, and in the evening read for a
long time with much enjoyment the life of a kindred
spirit, Amelia Sieveking.

On Wednesday, the 17th of June, during her cousin's
absence, she set out on an attempt to visit her district.
When a few yards beyond the gate she was seized with
violent pain between the shoulders ; but so anxious
was she to visit the school, and take some little delicacy
to a dying man, that she still struggled on, although
frequently compelled by breathlessness to stop short,
and once obliged to sit down on the Links. Slie reached
the school, and was able also to pay a visit in George
Square to her dear friend Mrs Sym ; and thus for the
last time entered the dwelling so hallowed by its asso-
ciations with the beloved pastor and friend whose
memory she so tenderly cherished, and the hope of re-
union with whom was one of the joyful anticipations
of life's last hours.

After this some days were spent in bed, and the
months of July and August passed on in extreme
weakness, with frequent distressing seizures of faint-
ness and nausea, and, which she dreaded still more,
hours of a death-like slumber. For fear of these pain-
ful sleeps she often avoided lying down when utterly

MISS HEXEIETTA TVILSON. XI

exhausted. One night she requested to have the 9 1st
Psalm read to her, as it contained promises of protec-
tion from ''the terror of the night." As long as
strength remained, it was her great enjoyment to be
taken out into the garden. At first she was able to
walk slowly ; afterwards she was wheeled along in a
garden chair. One of the last times she was out of
doors she observed a rare moth, and sent into the
house for a net in order to secure it — the last gleam
of a ruling passion. She still read a great deal. Night
and morning her Bible lay beside her, as well as
" Hymns from the Land of Luther." With the beauty
and originality of a smaU volume of poems by Jean
Inglelow she expressed herself as much delighted, and
she enjoyed Mrs Jameson's Sketches. Boston's " Crook
in the Lot" lay beside her till nearly the close. Of
one eye she had in the meanwhile lost the sight through
weakness, but she did not allow it to interfere with
her occupations, and only alluded to it as a matter of
merriment. As in the days of her health she had been
a matchless sick-nurse, so now in her turn she became
a remarkable patient. Her great anxiety was to give
the least possible trouble. The tones of her voice,
unless when weakened by violent sickness, retained
their wonted cheerfulness ; she was as soHcitous as ever

XU MEMOIR Of^

for the comfort of every one under tlie roof, and when
unable to go out herself would insist on her cousin
going out into the sunshine : " I like to look through
the window and see you walking;" and she would fain
have so set the place in order, that it should look as
bright as ever to survivors after it had ceased to know
herself for ever.

Most likely for this reason — to avoid giving pain —
she did not at first speak of the probable termination
of her malady ; but in the beginning of September the
symptoms became much more urgent, and the friend
whom she wished to be with her at the close of the
pilgrimage w^as sent for. Mrs Sym came, and never
left her till she was safe in the happy land where " the
inhabitant shall no more say, I am sick." But on the
evening of Saturday, September 12fch, the invalid was
alone with her cousin, who had finished reading to her
the 103d Psalm, and a few verses in the 10th chapter
of Hebrews. She then began as if speaking of ordi-
nary affairs, and ment'oned the names of some friends
to whom she would like her microscope, lier insect
cabinet, and similar personal remembrances, to be given ;
and after addressing words of comfort and advice to
the beloved companion who had been to her so long as
a younger sister, she added, " I do not fear to leave

MISS HENRIETTA WILSON. XIU

you all, for I know in whose care you are. The God
who comforted us in '56 (the year when Mr Wilson
died) will comfort still. It will be a very short time,
and we shall be all together again.'' She next reverted
to her uncle and her devoted attachment to him — " I
never could have thought that I should be able to live
seven years without him ; but God would not permit
me to rejoin him before weakening my idolatrous love
and fixing it more on Himself. I have had a very
happy life, and there is not much suffering even now.
No one knows what it is till they come to be here.

Tell — [an aged friend] not to be afraid : she used

to be timid ; but the waters of Jordan will be very low
when she has to cross."

From that evening onward she spoke constantly and
cheerfully of the Father's house as one who was already
near it, dAvelling much on the finished work of the
Saviour. " Yes," she said, " it is a finished work. All
that I have to do is to lie down at the foot of the
cross." The texts in which she delighted were such
as these : — " Whosoever cometh unto me, I will in
nowise cast out;" "Looking unto Jesus;" ''Hold
thou me up, and I shall be safe;" " He shall sit as a
purifier and refiner ; " " Wash me, and I shall be clean ; "
" When thou passest through the waters, I will be with

XIV MEMOIR OF

thee/' One night she was told that a dear friend had
sent in a note her favourite text, "Underneath are the
everlasting arms/' " Yes/' she replied, " that 'hides.
But remember, it is for the strong as well as the weak/'
On Sabbath, September 13th, she requested her
cousin to repeat to her the hymn, "Eock of Ages," and
that verse in the 73d Psalm : —

" My flesh and heart doth faint and fail,
But God doth fail me never :
For of my heart God is the strength
And portion for ever;"

on which she dwelt in a way that shewed it to be
exactly descriptive of her own trust and feeling.

One day, when suffering much, the remark was made
to her, " How sweet after this will be the blessed rest
of heaven!" "Well/' she replied, ''it is strange: it
is not rest I am thinking of, but work. I have been
laid aside so long, I am longing for something to do/'
She was then reminded of the passages in the Eevela-
tion — " His servants shall serve him ;" " They rest not
day nor night," &c. Amidst her desire to depart and
be with Christ, she was afraid of bemg impatient
" His time is best. I will wait His own time. Surely,
however," she once added, " I may say. Come, Lord
Jesus ; come quickly ; because that is His own

MISS HENEIETTA WILSON. XV

word." She often repeated two lines from a German
hymn —

" Suffer on, and hope, and wait,
Jesus never comes too late."

One morning she said it had long been pleasant to
her to believe that in a higher state of existence many
of our present pursuits may be resumed and perfected.
Reference was made to what Dr Candlish says in his
"Life in a Risen Saviour." "Yes," slie subjoined,
" tliey are deliglitful sermons. Dr James Alexander
lias also some striking remarks on the same subject. I
copied them out ; and I can truly say that many of
my employments here were followed out in the hope
of resuming them in eternity."

All throughout her mind continued bright, and free
from clouds and fears, and her only concern was the
trouble which her feebleness occasioned to others.
" After this you must take a long rest/' she said to her
cousin, who answered, " I would far rather work as
you have done ;" and when her attached servants were
raising her in bed, she said, " I am a great bother,'' but
added, " Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of
these my brethren, ye did it unto me." On the morn-
ing that she died she heard that a valued friend was
ailing. She expressed much sympathy, observing, " I

XVI MEMOIR OF MISS HENRIETTA WILSON.

do not like to hear of people being ill. I like to hear
of them well and cheerful, and going excursions."

About four in the morning of Saturday, September
1 9th, a great change was observed to come over her,
and she appeared to be rapidly sinking ; but she re-
vived a little, and when asked about nine how she was,
she said, " I have had a delicious night." Dr Duncan
afterwards asked her if she was in pain. " Oh no,
only drowsy, and quite happy." Nearly all day she
kept hold of her cousin's hand, and, whether waking
or sleeping, she often smiled brightly as if beholding
what eye hath not seen. About five in the evening
she repeated three or four times, " Come, Lord Jesus,''
and shortly after, from the arms of sorrowing affection,
her ransomed spirit passed away.

INTEODUCTION.

Much has been written of late on small farms, and
the profits thereof. Eeadiug such works is pleasant
and tempting, and sometimes one is inclined to wonder
whether any profit could be made out of a shrubbery
and garden of two acres.

Thus cogitating one day, it came into my head to
endeavour to record the ijleasures of which these two
acres have been the source ; and surely in this world
of care, and toil, and anxiety, what is a daily source of
enjoyment may be counted profitable also.

" Pleasures uewly found are sweet
When they lie about our feet."

The profit of innocent pleasure is as real, and as bene-
ficial to the mind, as the profit of gain is to the purse.
It is wise and right to take advantage of, and make the
most use of such simple, pure, and varied enjoyments
as are to be found even in a garden of two acres.

CONTENTS.

MEMOIR OF MISS AVILSON,
INTRODUCTION,

THE PLEASURES OF WORK,

TREES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS

SPRING,

SUMMER, .

AUTUMN, .

WINTER, .

OL'R PETS,

ranger's grave,

to my birdie,

MY DOVES,

TO FLUSH, MY DOG

ON THE GRAVE OF A FAITHFUL DOG

PAGE

iii
xvii

1

13

43

74

114

131

164
165
167
169
172
176

®lj£ ^Itasiirfs of Horfi

" The sun and sky,
The elements and seasons, as they change,
Do find a worthy fellow-labourer tliere—
Man free, man workhig for himself, with choice
Of time, and place, and object."

Wordsworth.

•' No doubt that work is a luxury, and a very great one. It i.-
indeed at once a luxury and a necessity ; no man can retain eithei
health of mind or body without it." — Ruskin.

THERE is said to be in most Scotclinieii a strong desire
to possess a bit of land, however small, and certainly
this pleasure of possession does not depend alone upon the
extent of ground ; on the contrary, I am disposed to think
that more pleasure is derived from small properties than
from large ones, and that as mucb interest and enjoyment
may be got from a small spot of ground as from an estate

4 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

of many hundred acres. The possessor of a large property
has duties, cares, responsibilities, and anxieties, which are
unknown to the humble proprietor of a few acres ; besides,
he cannot take the personal charge and oversight of his
estates in the way necessary to secure enjoyment : he must
employ and depend upon others — land-stewards, foresters,
and gardeners ; and it will generally be found that far
greater pleasure is derived from what we do ourselves than
from what others do for us. This rule applies especially
to gardening ; no fruit, vegetables, or flowers seem half so
fine as those we have planted and cultivated ourselves.
The actual labour required soon becomes pleasant; and,
till it has been tried, no one can tell the delight we take
in watching and waiting for the effects of the M^ork of our
own hands.

" I love my garden well

And find employment there ;
Employment sweet, for many an hour,
In tending every shrub and flower

With still unwearied care."

It is not to be denied that there is great satisfaction to
be derived from the skilful labours of others, and nnich
gratification obtained by having a regular gardener ; but
let those who have gardens, and yet cannot afford this
luxury, comfort themselves by the thought that the actual
enjoyment of gardening, as of most other pursuits, is
greater in proportion to the pains we have personally-
taken in it.

The love of work for work's sake is not common, but

THE PLEASURES OF AVORK. 0

something resembling this is undoubtedly one of the
sources of much healthy enjoyment. Shew me a person
who does like work, of whatever nature, mental or mechani-
cal, who puts his heart and his mind into it, and who is
not satisfied unless he has done it as well as he can, and I
will shew you a happy man.

So, among the many advantages a garden brings with it
the gratification of this healthy love of work is not the
least ; where this love is not, the sooner it is acquired the
better^ and few pursuits help on the acquisition so well as
gardening. If it extends from this pleasant occupation to
more serious and naturally irksome work, so much the
better. The same rule applies to dull, dry, uninteresting
work of every kind. The true plan for making it pleasant
is to endeavour to do it (whatever it is) as perfectly as
possible. No one was ever yet interested in work who
did it any way ; for not only is the result of such care-
less labour most unsatisfactory, so that it is often labour
lost, but the work itself is insuff"erably tedious. But set
to with a will, resolve and endeavour to do it neatly
and completely, to make your work look well, to make it
finished work, and, whether you will or not, you will feel
an interest in it while doing it, and a pleasure in contem.
plating it when done, utterly unknown to the slovenly
worker.

" In all labour there is profit." It may be added, that in
almost all labour there may be pleasure, if we d(j it well and
are not overtasked, for then, alas,

" Labour dire it is and weary woe."

6 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

There is a certain charm to most people in the mechanical
part of their work ; they like doing it, they cannot tell why,
even where it is so jmrely mechanical as to leave the mind
free to follow its own fancies. The fingers seem to feel
pleasure in being employed, and no one w^ho has ever tried
the experiment can deny the fact, that, when suffering
under anxiety, ay, or even in sorrow^, they have found
more relief of mind from some work of the hand than they
could derive from attempts to occupy and employ the
mind. Any gardening work takes a high rank among the
efficacious means of soothing and occupying a harassed
mind ; and it would be ungrateful indeed to Him w^ho
" gives us all things richly to enjoy," not to acknowledge
His goodness in thus making work so often an alleviation
of our cares, and also in granting us the means of recrea-
tion and relief that such pleasant labour confers. I have
rambled off from the subject of our garden to the delights
of hearty work, but I will allow myself the pleasure of an
extract ere I return to my subject.

" Yes, we should all have our w^ork to do ; work of
some kind. I do not look upon him as an object of com-
passion who finds it in hard manual labour, so long as the
frame is not overtasked, and springs after rest with renewed
vigour to its toil. Hard labour is a source of more plea-
sure in a great city, in a single day, than all which goes
by the especial name of pleasure throughout the year. We
must all have our task. We are wretched without it." *

It is no small advantage, in this changeable climate,
* " Thorndale ; or. Conflict of Opinion."

THE PLEASURES OF WOEK. 7

of a love of garden work, that Ave are thereby frequently
able to enjoy wet weather. Either there is some trans-
planting to be clone, or some seeds have been sown, or
some turf has been laid down ; and a dull, drizzling day,
or a hearty soaking shower, is welcomed and rejoiced in,
with a zest unknown to those who are for ever grumbling
at our capricious climate. There is first the enjoying, at
the open window, of that most delightful of summer
sounds, the pattering of rain-drops upon the leaves of the
trees ; then comes the eager delight of hastening out after
the shower has ceased, and finding that, even in a few
hours, some tiny seeds will have sprung up, while every
bush and flower is looking so fresh, and smiling so fra-
grantly.

*■ Oh ! the rapture of beauty, of sweetness, of sound,
That succeeded that soft, gracious rain !
With laughter and singing the valleys rung round,
And the little hills shouted again.

'' The wind sunk away like a sleeping child's breath.
The pavilion of clouds was upf url'd ;
And the sun, like a spirit triumphant o'er death.
Smiled out on this beautiful world.

'• On this ' beautiful icorld ' such a change had been wrought
By these few blessed drops. Oh ! the same
On some cold stony heart might be work'd too, methought,
Sunk in guilt, but not senseless of shame !

" If a few virtuous tears, by the merciful shed,
Toiich'd its hardness, perhaps the good grain
That was sown there and rooted, though long seeminr/ dead,
Might shoot up and flourish again.

8 THE CHFvONICLES OF A GAEDEN.

" Oh ! to work such a change ! — by God's grace to recall
A poor soul from the death-sleep ! To this —
To this joy that the angels partake, what were all
That the worldly and sensual call bliss ! "

Mrs Southey.

So much for the charms of a summer shower, and the
ideas suggested by it. But even in bleak, dull weather,
there is always something to be done in the garden for
which such weather is requisite ; and surely, as the author
of the " Manse Garden" remarks : — " Not a little may be
said for an occupation that can make a November drizzle
more cheering than the sunny dews of May." That gar-
dening does so sometimes, will be admitted by all w^io have
had favourite shrubs to transplant at that season.

There are so many excellent works on gardening, both
of a popular and scientific nature, that any one w^ho wishes
to study the subject will find all he wishes to know, and a
good deal more, in these books; but the good rule, " Try
it yourself," is still applicable, if w^e really wish to enjoy
the garden. It seems rather a discouraging hint to set
out with, but I suspect it is a true one, that we must sub-
mit to learn hy failure. Somehow these disagreeable les-
sons make a deeper impression on us, set us to discover the
cause of the failure, and produce forethought in a way no
other experience does. I believe, however, that many dis-
appointments in gardening might be avoided by amateurs,
(I presume only to write for such,) if they would moderate
tlieir desires, and would not expect that unskilled labour
sliould })roduce results equal to the efforts of an experienced

THE PLEASURES OF WORK. \)

gardener ; that liothoiise flowers should flourish in a green-
house without a fire, or that beds and borders should be
always in a blaze of beauty, when they can afford neither
time nor money sufiicient to keep them in such a state of
high culture. There is wisdom in not attempting too
much, and there is pleasure too in being thus " content
Avith such things as we have ;" for, however it may be in
other matters, it does not hold true of gardening, that

" In great attempts 'tis glorious even to fail."

This is one reason why I feel inclined to recommend pos-
sessors of small gardens, who are unable to keep a regular
gardener, not to be too hasty in discarding the old-fashioned
mixed border, and adopting in its stead beds of flowers.
There are many arguments in favour of the mixed border,
such as, that it is never empty; that hardy plants, which
need little cultivation, grow there ; that blanks are more
easily filled up when they occur ; and that to most people
there is a pleasure in going year after year to the same
spot, sure of finding there the old favourite plant, either
beginning to bud, or in full blow, and of thus forming, as
it were, a friendship among your flowers —

" Nor blush if o'er your heart be stealing
A love for things that have no feeling."

This last fanciful pleasure is one unknown to the cultiva-
tor of beds where the flowers are removed and renewed
year by year ; and truth to tell, it is one which meets with
very little sympathy from the gardener ; at least, I never

10 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

met with one who had any scruple about grubbing up any
old favourite ; they are all ready to act on the maxim,
" Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground." Well would
it be for us all, if we remembered and acted upon the warn-
ing as applied to ourselves !

Even in a small garden, however, there may be room for
both styles of gardening : broad borders of mixed shrubs
and flowers, and plots in the grass, fdled with select
favourites,- — this combination giving variety of work as
well as of enjoyment. It is true that the plots look empty
and bare during the winter, but the pleasure of filling them
up in spring is all the greater from the contrast ; and there
are few things more delightful than an evening stroll round
the garden after the Tom Thumbs, verbenas, or lobelias have
been replaced in their beds, a gentle watering bestowed,
and the filled-up look restored to the long-empty parterres.

I suppose that the various kinds of work, comj)rised
under the term gardening, have each their own particu-
lar charm to different individuals ; but, perhaj^s, the most
universally-liked work is this planting out, either of plants
from pots, or, more delightful still, of rooted cuttings that
have been struck by ourselves. Sowing seeds is another
very attractive occupation ; so is tying up flower stems to
their supports, or training creepers against a fence or wall.
Indeed, these two last-named employments are popularly
supx>osed to comprise all a lady's work in a garden ; but to
one who is a real lover of gardening, scarcely any work
comes amiss, although no doubt some kinds are preferable
to (jthers. Weeding by the hand is generally thought tire-

THE PLEASURES OF WORK. 11

some; but even this, when performed on a bed of seed-
lings, becomes interesting ; probably because more care
has to be taken, and because one feels as if the tin}^ plants
must feel it a relief to be set free from these encroaching
and overshadowing neighbours.

" 'Tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes."

The pleasure that there is in the actual, practical work
of a garden, must be tried before it can be understood.
Likhig for it will grow by exercise, even when not felt
naturally ; for of this healthy enjoyment may be said, what
is generally remarked of more doubtful pleasures, that " it
only needs a beginning. '^

Next to working oneself comes the pleasure of watching
the work of others. Any alteration that needs the labour
of more skilled hands than our own, but which has been
planned out by ourselves, gives daily satisfaction while
watching its progress, whether it be a new walk (jpen-
ing out, turf laying down, a fence putting up, a rookery
building, or new beds and borders being dug ; any, in
short, of the changes that may be made in the smallest
domain, the doing of the work, and the seeing of it done,
give often more pleasure than the completest performance.
I must class also among "the pleasures of work," of this
work at least, that it generally leaves the mind free for
pleasant and profitable thought ; indeed, it suggests such.
There are many similes, analogies, and styles to be ob-
served in all natural objects ; and either while planting
and rearing, or cutting down and casting away, many

12 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

scriptural allusions will occur to our minds, and new
illustrations will be found to add another to tlie many
pleasures of such occupation.

Among the indirect pleasures of gardening may fairly
be placed those derived from studying the nature and pro-
perties of our favourite plants and flowers, A knowledge
of botany may not be necessary for a gardener ; but as I
am endeavouring to set forth the enjoyments that are

" Spread through the earth
In stray gifts, to be claim'd by whoever shall find,"

I must include the acquisition of some knowledge about
the structure and modes of growth of plants as giving a
great additional zest to their culture. Even the very weeds
become interesting when understood to be only " plants out
of place ;" so whether it be botany that leads to gardening,
or gardening that leads to botany, certain it is, that in
either case benefit and enjoyment will be doubled by the
student becoming a workman, and the workman a student.
We may fitly conclude this chapter by applying the
words spoken by Sir Henry Wotton, in praise of anghng,
to the pursuit and practice of gardening : — " It was an
employment for his idle time, which was then not idly
spent ; for it was, after tedious study, a rest to his mind, a
cheerer of his spirits, a diverter of sadness, a calmer of un-
quiet thoughts, a moderator of passions, a procurer of con-
tentedness ; it begat habits of peace and patience in those
that professed and practised it."

Crccs, dEirergmits, aiib Sjintk.

'•' Oh lor a law, originating in the perception of comfort, and self-
imposed, which should make the planting of a few trees an opera-
tion as certain as tlie building of a house ! Men would live longer
and better for the happiness thus given to their homes."— Manse
Garden.

IT may appear absurd to the owners of woods and forests
that the trees of a villa, garden should be thought
worthy of remark ; and perhaps some persons may consider
the leafy monarchs out of place in such a situation, and feel
no regret at seeing them levelled low to make way for
beds and borders. It is indeed grievous to see the want
of taste and feeling shewn on this subject by almost all

16 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

classes concerned in the building of suburban residences.
To judge by tlie unsparing use of the axe resorted to when
a wooded park is " feued " for villas, be they mansions or
cottages, one would think that a fine tree or group of trees
was a nuisance to be got quit of as quickly as possible, and
that no allotment of ground, whether of six acres or only
consisting of one, could be ready for either building on or
laying out as garden or shrubbery, till every tree had been
uprooted and the ground left bare as the blasted heath.
Then the roads and pathways, where once we walked under
shady sycamores or spreading ^beeches, alas for their leafy
honours now ! Poor comfort it is for those who once ad-
mired, ay, and loved those noble trees, to be told that now
the footpaths will be drier and the roads in better order,
for the litter of fallen leaves is at an end, and the sun and
wind will now dry up all mud and moisture. How sadly
do we now recall the rural beauty of one of those by-
roads, with its avenue of trees on each side, and bounded
on the west only by an old crumbling wall, over which one
could see into the sweet green fields, gay with buttercups
and daisies, while every here and there, where the road
widened, there were irregular grassy knolls covered with
whins, where one might sit and rest, even though it was
" within a mile of Edinburgh town." First came the re-
pairing of that old mossy wall, so that one could no longer
see into the grass or look on the trunks of the tall trees ;
but still their branches waved overhead, and still the green
resting-places remained. But ere long tlie ground was
fcucd, the old trees were cut down, a staring stone-and-

TREES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS. 17

lime wall was built, and road and footpath alike were
macadamised or paved with little hard stones, the grass
pared off, the golden whins dug up, and the once rural
country road turned into as dull and uninteresting a high-
way as ever road-contractor rejoiced in. There may be situa-
tions where even a fine tree is in the wrong place, and
must be removed — if too close to the dwelling, or where it
closes up a fine view, or where too crowded upon other
trees ; but in general, the enjoyment as well as the beauty
of a small place is greatly enhanced by large trees.

" And ye are strong to shelter all meek things ;
All that need home and covert, love your shade ;
Birds of shy song, and low-voiced quiet springs,
And nun-like violets, by the wind betray'd."

Few in number they must necessarily be, and often in
the way, it may be thought, of flower-plots ; but, to such
things, who that has either eye or heart would sacrifice a
horse-chestnut, with its sno\^"y spikes ; a beech, with its gray,
lichen-covered stem, and its leaves, alike beautiful in their
tender downy greenness of spring, or in the red and yellow
glory of autumn ; a wild cherry, with its wreaths of blos-
som, and its crimson brightness in decay ; or a slender
silvery birch, trembling to every breeze, and covering the
ground with leaves of gold when autumn winds strip its
sprays, leaving them almost as beautiful in their winter
bareness as when covered by their fragrant summer foliage ?

There is no season when trees are not a source of pleasure,
varied and unwearied. You may have but one of each
kind, and you may think you know that one well, but

18 THE CHKONICLES OF A GARDEN.

watch it, study it, and every season of the year, every
change in the weather, will bring out new beauties.

" No plot so narrow, be but Nature there,
No waste so vacant, but may well employ
Each faculty of sense, and keep the heart
Awake to love and beauty."

If, as Arthur Helps truly says, '' the moral experiments
of the world may be tried with the smallest quantities," so
may the pleasures of the woodlands. One tree may afford
diversified enjoyment, not only by its form, its shade, its
fohage, but by the effects its leaves give to light, whether
it be the "cool green light" that is so exquisitely refresh-
ing, or the brilliant glow of carmine or orange seen glinting
through the flickering foliage at noon or dewy eve. .

" In this bower,
This little lime-tree bower, have I not mark'd
Much that has pleased me ? Pale beneath the blaze
Hung the transparent foliage : and I watch'd
Some broad and sunny leaf, and loved to see
The shadow of the leaf and stem above
Dappling its sunshine ! And that walnut tree
Was richly tinged, and a deep radiance lay
Full on the ancient ivy, which usurps
Those fronting elms, and now, with blackest mass,
Makes their dark branches gleam a lighter hue
Through the late twilight."

Then there is the tender revival in sj>ring, tlic green
tassels and red cones of the larch, the gummy fragrant
buds of the poplar, the catkins of liazel or willow, the
black buds of the ash, and the green buds of tlie sycamore :
a little later and the hawthorn, the lilac, and laburnum,

TEEES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS, 19

covered with white, purple, and golden bloom, make the
very heart leap up with admiration.

" Come forth, and let us through our hearts receive
The joy of verdure ! See, the honied lime
Showers cool green light o'er banks where wild-flowers weave
Thick tapestry ; and woodbine tendrils climb
Up the brown oak, from beds of moss and thyme ;
The rich deep masses of the sycamore
Hang heavy with the fulness of their prime ;
And the white poplar, from its foliage hoar,
Scatters forth gleams like moonlight with each gale
That sweeps the boughs ; the chestnut flowers are past,
The crowning glories of the hawthorn fail.
But arches of sweet eglantine are cast
From every hedge. Oh ! never may we lose,
Dear friend, our fresh delight in simplest nature's hues !"

I know few saunters more enjoyable than one along by
a hedgerow in spring ; and when, as you pause and linger
in delight over the rich clusters of the hawthorn blossom,
a breeze passes, and the ground is whitened with the frail
flowers, do not the words of our Saviour come home to
the heart — " If God so clothe the grass of the field, which
to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall He not
nmcli more clothe you, O ye of little faith 1 "

In summer every one values a tree for its shade, as well
as for its beauty ; but the latter quality comes more into
notice in autumn, when, even in this country, there is
colouring bright enough to give us some idea of the much
boasted-of American "fall." To the real lover of trees,
however, their interest does not entirely depart even when
" Mart'mas winds " have blown the beautj^ out of the land-

20 THE CHEONICLES OF A GARDEN.

scape in the eyes of the ordinary observer ; for the form,
the characteristic form, of each tree is then seen, and
whether it be the united strength and grace of the ash,
the hardy gnarled endurance of the oak, the sheltering
feathery spread of the beech, or the light playfulness of
the birch,

" Arching like a fountain shower,"

each has a claim on our admiration ; while there still
lingers enough of colour in the bark, varied from a pur-
pled hue to a silvery gray, and marbled, it may be, with
moss and lichens, to arrest even an unartistic eye. Nor
does a fall of snow deprive our home landscape of these
beauties ; for the contrast between the trees, as they
bend beneath or bear up under their featliery burden, is
more clearly defined — the evergreens, especially the firs,
wdth their massy flakes of snow standing out so nobly
among the bare stems and leafless branches. Even in that
universally disHked weather, a thick November fog, I have
seen the leafless trees assume a certain grandeur, like giant
skeletons looming through the mist, and breaking up the
dull uniformity spread over the landscape. Not unfre-
quently, also, does a sudden frost come on during the
night, and lo ! the morning light shews all the trees spark-
ling as with diamonds, the heavy dripping moisture changed
to brilliant jewels, — meet emblem of the depressing trials
of the Christian, meekly and nobly borne, ofttimes changed
to blessings, and " the garment of praise," given for " the
spirit of heaviness."

TREES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS. 21

"' Soon as the silent shades of night withdrew,
The ruddy morn disclosed at once to view
The face of nature in a rich disguise,
And brighten'd every object to my eyes ;
For every shrub, and every blade of grass,
And every pointed thorn seeni'd wrought in glass :
In pearls and rubies rich the hawthorns show,
While through the ice the crimson berries glow."

Well may Ruskin say that no one can be far wrong,
in way of life or right temper of mind, if he loves the
trees enough, adding, " If human life be cast among
trees at all, the love borne to them is a sure test of its
purity."

To those accustomed to the shade and sense of protection
attbrded by old trees, there is a strange feeling of interest
excited by the sight of a nursery of young seedlings in
their different stages of growth. It seems almost as difficult
to believe that these trim little rows of plants a few inches
high, will ever be the pride and pleasure of future times,
as it is to realise that the light-hearted children around us
will grow up to be heads of households and protectors of
others. Each individual that loves trees at all, has pro-
bably some one special favourite, the preference frequently
determined by early associations ; but whether it be the
sycamore or beech, loved because under their shade we
played, or the horse-chestnut, whose gummy buds and fan-
like leaves were our childish treasures, or the fir and larch,
from which we gathered our mimic needles and pins, or,
dearer than all, the hawthorn and rowan, with their snowy
clusters and " berries red and bright," — it matters not, the

22 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

longer we know and study our favourite, the more do we
value it, and the playfellow of childhood becomes the friend
of riper years. Few things are more perplexing to the
lover of trees than the decision sometimes necessary as to
which must be cut down, either in a clump where they are
hindering each other's growth, or when a view may be
opened out by the removal, or light and air admitted to
the dwelling. No one who merely looks upon woods and
forests as "timber" to be marked for felling, can under-
stand the hesitation, the alternate changes of plan, the
difference between the summer thought and the winter
thought of the owner of a few cherished trees ; and it is
wise certainly thus to ponder, and look at the question on
all sides ; for cutting down a tree is an irretrievable step.
It has been said that every man's trees should be cut
down by his neighbour ; I know I should be sorry to see-
the best Samaritan that ever lived with axe in hand among
our trees. But when a tree is doomed to fall, it is wise to
make its removal now the source of pleasure, instead of
indulging vain regrets ; and it must be admitted that very
frequently its absence does give great additional enjoy-
ment, for, besides opening out a view of distant mountain
or extended champaign, there is a peculiar feeling of
delight in the expanse of sky now seen. Then the plea-
sure derivable from one tree is by no means ended when it
is cut down ; to have it cut up and used as firewood is
another interest connected with it, while the gnarled root
may be put into some shady corner, primroses and ferns
planted in its hollow crevices and around it, so that it

TREES, EVEEGEEENS, AND SHEUBS. 23

becomes anew " a thing of beauty," and an additional
source of enjoyment.

The deeply interesting and curious laws which regulate
the growth and form of trees can hardly be explained or
understood without the use of diagrams ; but if the reader
should wish to pursue the subject, most ample information
will be found in " Typical Forms and Special Ends in
Creation," and in the fifth volume of " Modern Painters."
Perhaps it may be feared that such details will be dry
reading, but it is not so ; and the knowledge thus obtained
gives such an additional interest to every tree we look
upon, that it is almost like the acc^uisition of a new sense.
The more deeply, the more minutely we search into the
works of God, the more do we feel that indeed His
works are " past finding out ; " and when w^e are told that
for His " glory they are and were created," is it not well
to seek to understand these His " w^onderful works ? "
One object of this book being to shew how near at hand
sources of pleasure lie, if w^e will but open our minds to
enjoy them, I earnestly recommend all lovers of trees, or
those who wish to become such, to make themselves
acquainted with the many curious discoveries connected
with the growth of their favourites ; till they have done
so, they can have no idea of the added interest they will
feel in every leaf, even in the winter-stripped branches and
spray. There is, indeed, as Dr M'Cosh remarks, enough
in " a pine cone to reward the study, for hours together, of
the very highest intellect."

Were I attempting here a history or description of

24 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

forest trees, it would be easy to fill pages with tlie fascinat-
ing theme ; but I am sure those who love and aj^preciate
well the beauty and variety of interest connected with
even one tree, will also be those who will most thoroughly
enjoy the grandeur of woodland scenery, and none such, I
trust, will return to their own limited grounds without
additional admiration and liking for their own trees.

Although the growth of lichens and mosses on trees
may be considered a blemish in the eyes of some persons,
there is no doubt these plants add to their beauty, especi-
ally in winter, from the colouring they impart ; and it is
curious to observe, that while some of those grow indiffer-
ently on tree or stone, others attach themselves almost
exclusively to certain species.

" An oak grew near. . . .

its fretted roots

Emboss d the bank, and on their ruffled bark

Grew plants which love the moisture and the shade —

Short ferns, and longer leaves of wrinkled green."

Southey, it is true, is here referring to wilder woodlands
than the villa-grounds in which I am desirous of seeing
trees cherished; and the plants alluded to are probably
the i^retty little oak fern [Polypodium dryopteris) found
among the damp mosses at the root of oak-trees, and the
broader-leaved and less exclusive hart's tongue [Scolo-
pendrium vulgare.) As regards the beauty derived from
lichens and mosses, I am glad to be able to strengthen
my assertion, by the following remarks of Gilpin, in his
delightful work on Forest Scenery. " The variety of

TREES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS. 25

mosses — tlie green which tinges the trunk of the beech ;
the brimstone-coloured, and black, which stain the oak ; as
the yellow, which is frequently found on the elm and ash,
are among the most beautiful of those tints which embel-
lish the bark of trees.

" I have often stood with admiration before an old
forest oak, examining the various tints which have en-
riched its furrowed stem. The genuine bark of an oak is
of an ash colour, though it is difficult to distinguish any
part of it from the mosses that overspread it ; for no oak,
I suppose, was ever without a greater or a less proportion
of these picturesque appendages. The lower parts about
the roots are often possessed by that green, velvet moss,
which, in a still greater degree, commonly occupies the
bole of the beech ; though the beauty and brilliancy of it
lose much when in decay. As the trunk rises, you see the
brimstone-colour taking possession in patches. Of this
there are two principal kinds, — a smooth sort, which
spreads like a scurf over the bark ; and a rougher sort,
which hangs in little rich knots and fringes. I call it a
brimstone-hue, by way of general distinction, but it some-
times inclines to an olive, and sometimes to a light green.
Intermixed with these mosses, you often find a species
perfectly white. Before I was acc^uainted with it, 1 have
sometimes thought the tree whitewashed. Here and
there a touch of it gives a lustre to the trunk, and has its
effect ; yet, on the whole, it is a nuisance ; for as it
generally begins to thrive when the other mosses begin to
wither, (as if the decaying bark were its proper nutri-

26 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

rnent,) it is rarely accompanied with any of the more
beautiful species of its kind ; and, when thus unsupported,
it always disgusts. This white moss, by the way, is
esteemed a certain mark of age ; and when it prevails in
any degree, is a clear indication that the vigour of the tree
is declining. We find also another species of moss, of a
dark-brown colour, inclining nearly to black ; another of
an ashy colour ; and another of a dingy-yellow. We may
observe, also, touches of red ; and sometimes, but rarely, a
bright-yellow, which is like a gleam of sunshine ; and in
many trees you will see one species growing upon another ;
the knotted brimstone-coloured fringe clinging to a lighter
species, or the black softening into red. Strictly speaking,
many of these excrescences, which I have mentioned under
the general name of mosses, should be distinguished by
other names. All those particularly which cling close to
the bark of trees, and have a leprous, scabby appearance,
are classed, I believe, by botanists, under the name of
lichens : others are called liverivorts. But all these excres-
cences, under whatever name distinguished, add a great
richness to trees ; and when they are blended harmoniously,
as is generally the case, the -rough and furrowed trunk of
an old oak, adorned with these pleasing appendages, is an
(jbject which will long detain the picturesque eye."

Besides the lichens which shew a marked preference for
certain kinds of trees, many fungi prefer the shade of
particular trees to grow under, or attach themselves to
their wood when dead, and in some instances add great
beauty to the fallen trunks and roots. I remember, in

TREES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS. 27

particular, one (Agaricus quercinus) which grew over every
part of an oak which had been felled and cut up into
blocks ; these were used as rustic tables in the garden,
and the root part was placed in the fernary. Two or three
years afterwards, every one of these pieces was covered by
a crop of this curious and beautiful fungus, which grows
in fan-shaped masses, each barred by variously coloured
and shaded stripes. These fans are at first soft and leath-
ery in texture, and the colour often bright ; bands of
velvety-purple and green, brown and orange, running to-
ward their edges ; they harden with age, and the colours
become darker, and run more into the shades of grays and
browns, losing partly their velvety look on the surface. I
thought at first that this fungus might be peculiar to the
oak, but I have seen it since on felled trunks of elms and
beeches.'"

And now that we have brought our favourites to death,
does their interest cease ? By no means ; for even out of
many of our common trees, how many useful and ornamen-
tal articles may be made, and how many a cheerful winter
evening be brightened by their blaze ! The wood of the
beech and ash is the best for fuel, the latter burning with

* The following pretty but fanciful allusions to the fungi found
n woods is from a description of a woodland walk by Madame Gas-
parin : —

'• Tliey are a singular race, and full of mystery. There are good
and bad among them. I am not speaking of their poisonous pro-
perties, but of their outward shape and bearing. Some are delicate,
milk-white, planted in circles, as if to mark the spot where fairies
danced last night. Others are solitary, blackish, livid, treacherous-

28 THE CHUONICLES OF A GARDEN.

a briglit flame, while the larch, from its toughness and
compactness, resists the action of fire ; so that its wood
is recommended for the beams of houses, as a beam of pine
or dry oak will be in a blaze before one made of larch will
be charred.

The ash is also said to be, in point of utility, little in-
ferior to the oak ; it has been called " the husbandman's
tree," nothing being equal to it for agricultural implements ;
while its roots being finely veined and susceptible of a
good polish, make beautiful articles of furniture. The
lime, box, and larch, claim consideration as the trees used
by carvers, engravers, and artists : the first being the wood
used by the celebrated Grinling Gibbons for his exquisite
imitations of fruit and flowers, wherewith so many old
mansion-houses are decorated ; the box is used by wood-
engravers for the blocks on which their designs are cut ;
and the larch furnished panels on which Raphael and other
masters painted many of their immortal works. Larch
will also take high polish, and may be wrought into
beautiful wainscot. Elm and elm-roots, walnut, birch,
laburnum and yew, all are capable of being wrought into

looking, planning some crime apart. Those, purple lined with
orange, display their magnificent attire in the midst of a crowd of
gray knobs, that stand round at respectful distances, pachas in their
harems ! These, bright as silver, smooth as silk, a satin dome
above, ivory gills below. There are some rainbow-coloured, some of
pale gold. Whence do they come ? — whither do they go ? When
the mists of autumn hang heavy on the earth, what sun purpled
them, ])ainted them sulphur-coloured, gave them their mother-of-
jiearl iriJescence ? "

TREES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS. 29

furniture. When I allude to this use of our trees, I do
not intend to wander into a history of the art of veneering,
or of the craft of the cabinetmaker, but to suggest merely
that it may sometimes be found interesting to have some
record of a favourite tree ; and when this is desired, getting
it made into some article of furniture seems one of the
most sensible as well as satisfactory methods of securing
a memento. The love of having furniture made out of
rare or fine wood, is by no means a modern taste, for it is
said that enormous sums were spent in this manner by the
ancients ; and it is said by Evelyn, that when the men at
any time reproached their wives for extravagance, they
M^ere wont to retort and turn the taUes upon their husbands.
Hence the origin of the proverb of turning the tables upon
any one.

Great as the beauty of trees in their leafless state is, it
cannot be denied that in the winter season it is to our ever-
greens we look chiefly both for ornament and shelter, and as
these are more dependent upon our care in training, prun-
ing, and cultivating them than our hardier and more in-
dependent friends the forest trees, they are generally, I
think, regarded by their owners with more affection, and
removed with more reluctance. No country residence, be
it large or small, should be without evergreens near enough
to the house to be seen and enjoyed from the windo\YS,
and in sufficient numbers to give a clothed, sheltered ap-
pearance. It is true these shrubs are generally of slow
growth ; but, even when young, there is a feeling of comfort
and shelter connected with their green life Avhen all around

30 THE CHEONICLES OF A GAEDEX.

is dead and bare ; while full-grown plants of laurel, bay, or
holly are so universally admired, that little need be said
in their favour. The holly is a universal favourite, beau-
tiful alike in shape and foliage ; it needs little care, and
looks well at all seasons. I confess to a sincere sympathy
with the author of the " Manse Garden," in his enthusiasm
for the holly. He says of it most truly — " Of all the trees
of the forest, the native holly is the most interesting and
beautiful. Whether young, as a shrub in the garden, or
old, as a lonely tree of the mountain, its glowing, full, and
glossy leaves, gleaming in the winter sun, prove the delight
of all eyes." Of its culture he remarks — " Nothing that
grows will look so smiling and vigorous under the shade of
trees. It may be seen luxuriant where it has been chance-
sown by the root of an old oak ; it never knows what it
is to die, under any circumstances ; it is peeled by bird-
catchers, to whose blackguard calling it seems indispensable,
■ still it lives ; age seems unable to secure its decay ; it is
literally ever green."

There is one peculiar beauty about the variegated holly,
the tints of its young and tender leaves ; these assume the
most delicate shades of white, pink, and green, each differ-
ing from the other, and more resembling blossoms in their
colouring than ordinary foliage. The young shoots with
their bright leaves seem to attain slowly to their more
inature colour, sometimes continuing for a whole summer
to adorn the tree, and to afford a daily i)leasure in watch-
ing their progress and admiring their variety. They are as
attractive to young fingers as flowers; and one instance is

TREES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS. 31

recollected when a favourite shrub of this variety having
begun to bud forth, after having been long deprived of free
light and air, was ruthlessly stripped bare by a group of
youngsters, who could see no harm in pulling leaves,
altliough their consciences and the dread of the gardener
might restrain them from ^iMokm^floivers.

Southey's well-known lines to the holly tree may find
fit space here for quotation ; indeed, all poetical allusions
to our favourite shrubs and trees enhance our pleasure
in them, by suggesting thoughts and images, or sometimes
a moral, that mio'ht never have struck ourselves.

I.

' 0 reader ! bast thou ever stood to see

The Holly Trse ?
The eye that contemplates it well perceives

Its glossy leaves,
Order'd by an Intelligence so wise
As might confound the atheist's sophistries.

II.

Below a circling fence, its leaves are seen

Wrinkled and keen ;
Iso grazing cattle thi'ough their prickly round

Can reach to wound ;
But as they grow where nothing is to fear,
Smooth and unarm VI the pointless leaves appear.

in.
I love to view these things with curious eyes,

And moralise :
And in the wisdom of the Holly Tree

Can emblems see
Wherewith perchance to make a pleasant rhyme.
One which may profit in the after time.

32 THE CHEONICLES OF A GARDEN.

IV.
" Thus, though abroad I might appear
Harsh and austere,
To those who on my leisure woiild intrude,

Reserved and rude,
Gentle at home amid my friends I 'd be,
Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.

V.

" And should my youth, as youth is apt, I know,

Some harshness shew,
All vain asperities I day by day

Would wear away.
Till the smooth temper of my age should be
Like the high leaves upon the Holly Tree.

VI.
" And as when all the summer trees are seen
So bright and green,
The Holly leaves a sober hue display

Less bright than they, /

But when the bare and wintry woods Vv'e see
What then so cheerful as the Holly Tree ?

VII.

" So serious should my youth appear among
The thoughtless throng.
So would I seem amid the young and gay

More grave than they.
That in my age as cheerful I might be
As the green winter of the Holly Tree."

Next to the holly we may place the Portugal laurel and
the bay laurel as the most common ornaments of the
shrubbery; for though in some situations the arbutus and
sweet bay attain a large size, they are more delicate and
not so common as those just named. The leaves of the

TEEES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS. 33

Portugal laurel are almost as bright and glossy as our
favourite liolly ; its growth is more compact than the
laurel, and it is in some respects a hardier shrub, requiring
less pruning, and growing frequently to a good size with-
out losing the foliage of the lower branches. This feather-
ing down to the ground is a great beauty in evergreen
shrubs, and should be promoted by giving them room and
air, as well as by judicious pruning. How frequently do
we see fine specimens utterly spoiled by being cut away
near the ground, the higher branches being allowed to
grow out, till the shrub appears as if it would fall
over on the spectator. Instead of this, a large laurel
should present more the appearance of a sloping bank of
foliage, or rather of a pyramid, with the lower branches
down to the ground, and spreading out all round. An
evergreen thus grown and pruned is a beautiful object,
especially on a lawn.

With respect to the pruning of evergreens, it should be
remembered that summer is the proper season for this
operation, June or July ; but it too often liappens that at
this busy period, when our gardens are bright with flower-
ing bushes and smaller plants, our winter friends are for-
gotten and neglected, and so " upright growing sorts get
round-headed forms, round-headed ones grow to one side,
and all, and much more besides, for the want of the prun-
ing-knife, or of the finger -and -thumb way of stopping,
applied regularly at the proper season." So says Mr
Beatoun, in the Cottage Gardener, where also he gives

c

34 THE CHRONICLES OF A GAEDEN.

the following rules for pruning these valued ornaments of
the garden : —

" One of the first fundamental rules in pruning ever-
greens is this, the lowest hranches should he the longest,
whatever the shape of the head may he. There is not a
single exception to this nde that I know of; as soon as
a higher branch is allowed to grow out further from the
main stem of a tree, or from the general mass of branches
i)\\ a bush, than the low^er branches, a direct error is com-
mitted, and if not remedied by cutting in this longer
branch, a sure foundation is laid for the destruction of the
low^er parts of the tree, which will in the long run cause it
to get naked below, because the longer branch will shade
the others, and throw off the rain from them,

" The second rule is, no leaf should he cut through in
pruning an evergreen. Clipping evergreen hedges does not
come in under the rule of pruning.

" The last rule applies to the mode of cutting. Ko cut
ends shoidd be seen on hush or tree; and that is effected by
beginning the cut on the opposite side to where you stand,
and always cutting with an upstroke, then the cut part
will either face downwards or towards the centre of the
plant ; and if you cut quite close to a lateral branch, or to
the bottom of a leaf-stalk, as all good pruners do in the
summer, and as all the worst kind of pruners do in the
winter, I should like to know how I, or any body else,
could find out, at a yard's distance, that your plant had
been pnmed at all."'"'

* Cottacje Gardener, vol. vi., p. 226.

TEEES, EVEEGEEENS, AND SHEUBS. 35

Anotlier of our common favourites is the laurustiniis,
with its glossy leaves, rosy buds, and snowy flowers. It
seems to liave proved less hardy than it Avas once sup-
posed to be, but, flowering as it does in Avinter, it is too
valuable, as well as beautiful, to be willingly relinquished
as an addition to our shrubberies. I do not know if there
is any reason for the fact that another of our prettiest
shrubs is always trained against a wall, instead of being
allowed to grow as a bush — I mean the PyracantJia, or
evergreen thorn ; it is alike ornamental when covered with
its clusters of white hawthorn- like blossoms, or adorned
with a profusion of scarlet berries. It flowers in May,
and bears its red fruit all winter, and would certainly be a
most valuable addition to the garden or lawn.

In writing of evergreens, the i\j must not be omitted.
Alike useful and ornamental, it grows where other plants
cannot flourish, and seems equally happy and willing to
embellish an unsightly wall or a noble tree ; it may be so
trained and pruned as to cause dull stone and lime to look
like a rampart of living green, or when left to its own free-
dom, it will wreathe tree or pillar with its graceful sprays,
truly repaying

" The strength it borrows by the grace it lends."

I fear the forester may be right when he strips the ivy
off, lest it should strangle a young tree ; but I am not
writing for such, and must plead for and counsel a frequent
use of this beautiful evergreen. "When planted against a
wall, it requires to be pruned every year in April, as, if

36 THE CHRONICLES OF A CxARDEN.

allowed to attain to a luxuriant growth, it is apt to be
torn off by the wind, and its root-like fibres, when once un-
fastened, will never cling again : there is no help for it ; it
must be cut down to where it is still adhering, and allowed
to spring again from thence. But when ivy is allowed to
grow freely on a tree, or over a paling, it is a much more
beautiful object than when pruned down, and its bunches
of grape-like fruit add to its ornamental appearance. Ad-
vantage might be taken of this climber, especially the Irish
ivy, to plant out unsightly buildings, or to form a hedge-
like screen, where such is required, by training it in • the
one case against a tall rough pole, and in the other against
a few stakes, when it will run up and festoon with an ever-
green garland the dead wood which supports it. In one
of the pleasant papers in the Cottage Gardener, called
" My Flowers," the authoress says — " I do not think the
ivy is sufficiently considered as an ornament to the garden.
Its rapid growth makes it invaluable where large buildings,
or walls unfit for fruit trees, require to be covered ; but it
is equally useful as an embellishment among shrubs, par-
ticularly those which shed their leaves in winter. The
dead stem of a tree, with its boughs left on a foot or two
in length, clothed with ivy, is a beautiful object, standing
in quiet statelincss among the lighter beauties of the shrub-
bery, with its dark, rich mass of foliage growing richer
and handsomer as its neighbours sicken and die. When I
first saw an ivy tree I was struck with its beauty and
solemnity of look : it gave an appearance of age to the
garden, which is also an advantage. Any stump, or rough

TREES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS. 37

pieces of wood nailed strongly together, will do to support
this beautiful climber, Avhich wraps itself thickly round its
prop, and then hangs in waving masses, covered with its
starry flowers on every side."

Ivy may also be used to cover the ground under trees,
or on banks, where grass wdll not grow, forming a carpet
of shining green at all seasons. It grows readily from
cuttings, and after it has once taken root, it needs little
looking after, though, like all other youngsters, it requires a
little care and training at first starting, and it amply repays
the trouble. The following liints on ivy culture are taken
from a paper in the fourteenth volume of the Cottage
Gardener : they will be found useful by those who Avish
to see this beautiful evergreen thrive ; one of the many
advantages of this plant being, that it is equally suitable
and ornamental in a small garden as on a ruined tower,
though, as Mr Beatoun says in this paper, it requires
different treatment in those different situations : —

" To have ivy in good order, in dressed grounds, it
should be cut every year about the end of April. . .
The great beauty of ivy growing against a house, or on the
walls, or on buildings about a garden, is to look as young at
the end of a life-time as when the heir was born ; but i^y
covering an old ruin, or growing uj) round trees, is never
in character if it looks young, or w^hen it is young. . . .
Without good management ivy is often a dangerous cover-
ing to some w'alls, indeed to most w\alls, as, if it is allowed
to grow out naturally, on reaching the top of the wall the
rain will beat against it, run dowm the branches, and reach

38 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

the wall, then lodge in the mortar seams ; this softens the
mortar, the roots then get firmer hold of it, and from that
time destruction goes on, deeper and deei:)er, by every suc-
ceeding shower, till the wall is a ruin. The other side of
the picture shews the ivy leaves throwing off the wet from
leaf to leaf, as the slate upon the roof, and all below the
leaves is dry ; the mortar is thus secured from the weather,
and the face of the bricks or stone is so thickly covered by
the roots of ivy, in addition to the covering of leaves, that
the alternate actions of wet and dry, frost and fair weather,
have little or no effect upon it. In short, there is nothing
known to us which preserves buildings so effectually as
well kept ivy ; but it must he ivell kept from the beginning.
It must have its yearly pruning, and that from the middle
of April to the middle or end of May, according to the sea-
son, . . . Cuttings of ivy will succeed, ivith proper care, if
they are put in any day from the middle of September to the
end of May. . . . There is no plant which pays better for
good watering than ivy." The last hint I shall extract from
this paper is upon planting out rooted plants of ivy, which
may be from six to fifteen feet long ; but the advice given
here about close nailing of the plant is essential in all cases
where ivy is wished to grow up rapidly. If merely planted
at the foot of a wall and left to itself, it generally grows
into a small stunted bush, or throws out its branches along
the ground ; it must have some assistance to give it a fair
start in life, and that assistance is thus described by Mr
Beatoun : — " I may observe in passing, that from the middle
to the end of May is about the best time in the year to

TREES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS. 39

plant ivy out of pots. At that time there is no time lost ;
the bearded fibres Avill not wither by standing idle — they
cling at once to the wall, ' if ' — but few things come or go
without an ' if — there are two ifs here — if the new ivy is
watered thoroughly and liberally for the first two months,
and if the shoots are properly nailed. No matter how
long the shoot is, every inch of it ought to touch the sur-
face of the wall, and that can only be done by using four
times as many nails as would nail a grape vine of the same
length."

It is no small additional recommendation of the ivy to
lovers of birds that it shelters them in winter, being
truly a

" Harboui' of delight
For wren or redbreast, where they sit cooing
Their slender ditties when the trees are bare."

However much our evergreens are valued, admired, and
enjoyed in winter, we begin to look eagerly forward in
spring to the budding of our shrubs, and who would not
feel the blank the removal of these would occasion? La-
burnums, lilacs, red and white hawthorns, may be classed,
perhaps, rather among trees than shrubs ; but, name them
as you will, they are still the chief ornaments of the shrub-
bery. The guelder rose and syringa are also old-fashioned
favourites ; all these stand their ground even against the
graceful Deutzchia scahra and rich Weigelia rosea. There
is a great difference in one year, as compared with another,
in the profusion of blossom borne by shrubs, and no one
who has not watched for the summer bloom can believe

40 THE CHRONICLES OF A GA.EDEN.

the loss experienced when it is a " bad year " for the lilacs
and laburnums, or the enjoyment afforded by the full rich
abundance of massive clusters of lilac and golden shower-
like tresses of laburnum, while the snowy balls of the
guelder rose and the fragrant flowers of the hawthorn add
their charms, and every change of light from morn till eve
brings out a new beauty.

The difference observable in the brilliancy and beauty
of the colours of flowers as they are seen by morning or
evening light is curious. Ehododendrons are especially
affected by it, the evening light bringing out, as it were, a
fulness as well as delicacy of colour in those beautiful
shrubs not discernible in the garish light of day.

During the winter months we are apt to think that the
leafless branches of deciduous shrubs spoil the effect of the
clumps of evergreens, near or among which they may be
planted ; but certainly in summer these latter add greatly
to the beauty of the flowering shrubs, by the contrast their
dark-green foliage makes, especially when the flowers are
brought out as against a dark back-ground. Accidental
effects of this kind must often have been remarked, such
as a rose or honeysuckle which has insinuated itself into a
holly, and climbing up till it gets to the air and light,
covers the grave austere old tree with gay, bright, and
fragrant flowers. But perhaps the shrub that most en-
livens these groups of evergreens is the guelder rose or
wa3rfaring tree : the effect of this plant " tossing its balls of
foam " across or among the branches of a yew or laurel is
most beautiful. Whence it derives its name of wayfaring

TREES, EVERGREENS, AND SHRUBS. 41

tree is not known, but tlie following pretty lines give a
pleasing guess on the subject : —

" Wayfaring tree ! what ancient claim
Hast thou to that right pleasant name ?
Was it that some faint pilgrim came
Unhopedly to thee,

" In the brown desert's weary way,
'Mid toil and thirst's consuming away,
And there, as 'neath thy shade he lay,
Bless'd the Avayfaring tree ?

" Or is it that thou lov'st to shew
Thy coronals of fragrant snow,
Like life's spontaneous joj^s that flow-
In paths by thousands beat ?

"■ Whate'er it be, I love it well ;
A name, methinks, that surely fell
From poet, in some evening dell

"Wandering with fancies sweet."

Were I attempting to write a book of gardening, it
would be easy to give lists of flowering shrubs, many per-
haps more beautifid than the old-fashioned favourites I
have named ; but all I am desirous of doing by these
pages is to call the attention to the easily-procured, every-
day pleasures of one's own garden. Those who can afford
it, and who have gardeners to cultivate their grounds,
ought to embellish them with all that is rich and rare ; but
let no one fancy that a small garden and shrubbery may
not be made " beautiful exceedingly," and a source of de-
light, unless it is filled with new varieties, generally ex-
pensive to procure, and difficult to cultivate. I may have

42

THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

more to say on this subject wlien I come to write of flowers ;
but even now I may say that more enjoyment is often
derived from a profusion of common shrubs than from a
scanty supply of rare ones, to say nothing of the pleasure
of being thus able to provide friends with nosegays, un-
grudgingly cut.

,:^^

pnirg.

■ Spring ! Summer ! Autumn ! Of all three,

Whose reign is loveliest there ?
Oh ! is not she who paints the ground,
When its frost fetters are unbound.

The fairest of the fair ?

I gaze upon her violet beds,

Laburnums golden-tress'd,
Her flower-spiked almonds ; breathe perfume
From lilac and S3'ringa bloom.

And cry, ' I love Spring best.' "

Mrs South ey.

^^m. -^^

rriHE pleasures of a garden begin early in the year, long,
_L indeed, before winter has resigned his reign — before
one has begun to experience that

" Happy, genial influence,
Coming one knows not how or whence,
Nor whether going,"

which the first mild air of spring causes to arise in onr

46 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

hearts. Even in the wild, wintry month of January, there
are the points of crocuses and snowdrops to be seen, buds
of hepatica beginning to form, and a nameless something
in the light that tells of coming spring. It is a true old
saying no doubt, that

" All the months of the yes^v
Ban a fair Febraeer ; "

but who that loves a garden does not rejoice in the few
mild days sometimes met with in this month — days when
the first snowdrop and crocus put out their blossoms, when
the first bee is seen, the first warble of the thrush is heard
— who can help wishing such weather to continue, or feel
otherwise than grieved to find the wholesome severity of
frost and snow return upon the newly-awakened earth ?

Uncertain and coy as spring is in this country, mild
balmy air alternating with sleety showers or boisterous
breezes, or worst of all, an east wind of six weeks' duration,
still spring does deserve all that poets have written of it,
and all that our childhood has felt for it 1

" Dost thou not rejoice
When the spring sends forth an awakening voice
Through -the young woods ? Thou dost ! And in that birth
Of early leaves and flowers, and songs of mirth,
Thousands, like thee, find gladness ! "

It is curious to feel how the love of gardening awakens
from its winter sleep at the first sight of a golden mass of
crocuses, or bunch of trembling snowdrops, or the tiny
rent in the ground through which the winter aconite
thrusts up its bent stem and pretty yellow cu}). How

SPRING. 47

instantaneously does the desire start iii3 just to put this
bit of the border in order, to rake away the leaves or
smooth the clods round this clump, and how pleasant the
feeling is of breaking up the soil, crumbly and sweetened
by the winter's frost, pausing in the work now and then
lest you drive the bee out of the crocus-flower, and gently
removing out of the reach of the rake the half torpid
specimens of Carahus hortensis that are sure to be disin-
terred on the first spring days of gardening. Woe betide
them if the bright eye of the robin spy them out ere they
re-bury themselves for " a little more sleep and a little more
slumber." The first day's work in the garden brings the
redbreast from the window-sill to the borders in a very
short time, and his presence adds another pleasure to the
season and its work. Spring flowers are easy of culture,
and no garden should be without a profusion of them : as
most of them are low growing, they may have the front row
of the borders and the edges of the beds dedicated to them,
for few of these favourites like to be shifted. I*^ot many
sights are gayer and more pleasing than a small garden in
spring with bunches of snowdrops, crocuses, yellow white
and blue hepaticas, pink and blue dwarf daffodils, grape-
hyacinth, and other species of Scilla, and, a little later on
in the season, the dog-tooth violet. As all these, with the
exception of the hepatica, die down to the root in summer,
their places will require to be filled up by low growing-
annuals sown round them; but the bulbs should be left
undisturbed, for it is one of the chief pleasures of spring-
to watch for the re-appearance of our old friends, to observe

48 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

the gradual growth of snowdrop and crocus, from their
first appearance above ground as little green points to the
swelling and opening of their blossoms ; while, on the other
hand, the little daffodil, the squills, and the dog-tooth
violet surprise us by bursting through the ground, flower
and leaf together, almost full blown. Then there are those
universal favourites, double daisies, white, red, or pink, set
either as borders or in groups, and a very pretty little white
saxifrage, {Saxifraga tridactylites,) with foliage like clumps
of moss, and every blossom of which " keps its ain drap
o' dew," and sparkles in the sun. This last-named plant
requires to be kept within bounds, for it spreads rapidly,
and never seems to object to rough handling, or to require
much root. I have seen it torn away from the surface of
the ground in hands full, to reduce it to proper dimen-
sions, and the portions thus rudely treated, stuck in in
some shady spot, where they grew and prospered as if they
had been lifted and replanted with all the usual ceremony.
Another very pretty saxifrage is the little red Sajcifraga
oppositifolia. It is not common in gardens, and certainly
will not submit to such freedoms as the last named. Its
native haunt is the summit of lofty mountains, Ben Lawers
being one of its habitats, but I have seen it thriving in a
Lowland home, and brightening the borders in early spring
with its rosy flowers.

" There, cleaving to the gi'ound, it lies
With multitude of purple eyes,
Spangling a cushion green like moss."

I suspect it is somewhat "• doiii/'' about taking root at

SPEING. 49

first, or else some fatality attends my own attempts to
rear it, but certainly it dies out here, and the only plant I
succeeded in establishing was perseveringly pulled up, day
after day, by a tame raven, whenever it came into full
flower. Perhaps the colour of the blossom attracted him
at first ; it is a dull flesh-coloured red : then, when re-
planted, its fading look might make him think there was
a worm at the root ; but though I shifted it to another
part of the garden, he found it out, and fairly persecuted
my pretty plant to death, leaving me to

" Grieve to find
That love for Httle things, by Fate
Is renderd vain as love for great."

One of our triggest little spring plants is the Cheiranthm
alpina, sometimes called the small wallflower. It is very
easily propagated, for if a plant of it is torn in pieces,
every bit will strike root. It grows in neat, conapact bushes,
flowers profusely, and both it and its orange -coloured
cousin, Cheiranthus JlarshaUii, continue long in flower,
and have a faint sweet perfume. They are capital bed-
ding-out plants, as well as useful additions to the colours
of a mixed border.

The subject of colours in a flower garden is now so
deeply studied, and become so much a matter of scientific
arrangement, that I dare not add a word on a subject I
know so little about; but even in the lowliest plots, great
additional pleasure may be derived from a harmonious
arrangement of the colours, and much additional interest
in planning the best method of getting those flowers

50 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

together which contrast well in colour, and bloom at the
same time. The dwarf daffodil and the grape hyacinth,
for instance, one being pale yellow and the other blue, look
well together, and I remember an accidental contrast of
these colours that was exceedingly pretty, though it was
formed by a large dandelion which had got rooted in a
border of gentians, where its bright yellow stars, mingling
with the vivid expanse of blue, made such an attractive
show that the intruding weed was suffered to remain
till the flowers had faded, when it was somewhat reluc-
tantly dug up.

" Oft sparing what the florist knows
To be but gavidy

Another very pretty contrast may be made by planting
double yellow and double lilac primroses alternately as a
border edging ; there is also a common pale yellow auri-
cula, which looks well planted beside a lilac one of the
same tribe; blue gentians and common yellow primroses
also contrast well; and I have seen nosegays arranged of
those last-named flowers, which had a beautiful effect.

Before quitting this subject of the grouping of plants
according to their colours, I must refer to the fact that
nature herself has in many instances shewn us the example,
setting off a purple flower with a yellow centre, or with
yellow anthers, and contrasting the red colour not only of
our flowers, but of wild fruits, such as the holly and moun-
tain ash, with the green leaves. Some most interesting
examples of this natural arrangement of complementary

SPRING. 51

colours, as tliey are termed, may be found in Dr M'Cosli's
" Typical Forms ; " the looking-for and verifying the in-
stances there given add a fresh pleasure to every hour
spent among the flowers of the field, as well as those of
the garden. Truly, indeed, does he say that, " Surrounded
as we are by such harmonies, we are convinced that wher-
ever the mind seeks for them it will discover them ; nay,
the eye fixes on them when it is not designedly seeking
for them, and rejoices in them when it can give no account
of the cause of its joy. At the same time, the contempla-
tive intellect experiences a further pleasure, and a pleasure
of its own, when it can scientifically explain to itself the
source of all this enjoyment, and systematically look out
for the pleasing associations of nature.^' To return to the
garden, from which we have slightly wandered, we may
give another extract on this subject from Chevreul, one
of the highest authorities on colours ; he says : — " The prin-
cipal rule to be observed in the arrangement of flowers is,
to place the blue next the orange, and the violet next the
yellow ; whilst red and pink flowers are never seen to greater
advantage than when surrounded by verdure and by white
flowers ; the latter may also be advantageously dispersed
among groups formed of blue and orange, and of violet and
yellow flowers."

There are pretty little spring flowers among the phloxes,
low growing, and disposed to encroach on their neighbours,
but bright and easily cultivated ; and one of them, Phlox
frondosa, makes a nice bedding-out plant when allowed to
fill up the bed, flowering profusely, and for a long time.

52 THE CHRONICLES OP A GARDEN.

Any mention of spring flowers would be incomplete with-
out the violet ; the double blue certainly needs more
care in its culture than the single, but the latter is quite
as fragrant, and seems to thrive best w^hen left pretty much
to its own devices. Both this plant and the lily of the
valley do not object to the shelter of a wall or to the sun-
shine ; a few plants of each may be put in on the southern
side of a fruit-tree wall, where they will bloom early, and
require little attention ; but the violet seems to thrive
at the roots of roses or shrubs, and should be allowed to
nestle securely there in all out-of-the-way corners. I am
not writing a book of gardening advice. I know well that
this plan of allowing one plant to grow at the root of
another is utterly wrong in a real gardener's idea ; but there
are many innocent heresies in the art, which give great
pleasure, and which I, for one, prefer greatly to the ortho-
dox routine. For instance, it is very wrong, I believe, to
admire a mossy lawn, or to allow daisies to spring up
among the grass ; now both are so delightful to me, that I
would not care half so much for the little lawns or grass
plots in the garden, if they were not soft with velvet moss,
and white as snow with goivans. For some days before
the fortnightly mowing takes place, it is like the renewal
of one's own happy childhood to see the delight with which
all children greet the daisy ; they

" Gladly nature's love partake
Of thee, sweet daisy ! "

It is their own flower, the one they may pluck without
stint or reproof; for, as the poet says —

SPEING. 53

" Daisies leave no fruit behind
When the prettj" flow'rets die ;
Pluck them, and another year
As many will be bloomiug here."

I would cultivate the daisy, did it not spring up every-
where, for this reason, if for no other, that it gives so many
happy hours to little hearts, so much work to little hands,
adorning themselves with daisy wreaths and chains, worn,
it may be, but for a few hours, then thrown aside to
wither; the young wearers secure that to-morrow, will
bring a fresh supply, — hopeful and trustful, as only child-
hood can be, that the morrow ^\i\\ dawn on fresh pleasures
and fresh flowers. Let the poet's malediction be theirs
who would uproot the daisy from our lawns —

" May peace come never to his nest
Who shall reprove thee ! "

To return to the heresy with which I started — that some
flowers may be occasionally allowed to bloom at the roots
of other plants — the snowdrop may be named as one which
has a peculiarly pleasing effect when thus placed. Among
grass it leaves its foliage after the flowers are gone, which
has an untidy appearance, as of coarse clumps of grass ; but
among groups of evergreens and shrubs, or at the roots of
trees, snowdrops look well, and seem to enjoy the protec-
tion thus afforded them. Primroses, too, have a pretty
effect when planted near the stems of large trees, especially
if, owing to any irregularity of their growth, there are little
nooks where they may nestle and look natural.

It is not always easy to keep up a succession of flowers,

54 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

even of the common sorts ; but much may be done by
never despising any flower because it is common, and
by having those common things in greater number, and
allowing them to grow to a larger size than a regular
gardener will approve of. The following plan for planting
a garden seems to promise well in this respect ; it is ex-
tracted from the Cottage Gardener^ a work from which
all amateur gardeners will derive much pleasure and in-
struction. The garden described is said to be a " grass-
garden," much admired for being so constantly gay : —

"Around every bed, at about three inches from the
grass, there is a complete and thick border of crocuses, of
all colours mixed — the yellow begin in February, and the
purple and white continue till April, closing over the
yellow as they wither ; and as the beds interlace each
other, nothing can be more gay or beautiful than this
bloom with a number of diff'erent hepaticas and early
heaths in the beds. At about six inches within the crocus-
hedge, and eight inches from each other, are planted double
tulips, (chiefly Ilex ruhrorum and double-yellow ;) like the
crocuses, surrounding every bed, and being, like them, only
disturbed every three or four years, they form thick clumps,
with several flowers on each. Between each of these tulip-
plants or clumps, and in the same line, are plants of anemones
or hyacinths. These are to succeed the crocuses, and form,
with a little help from purple primroses, &c., my April
bloom. It is not quite so brilliant as my March and May
bloom, but still is gay. As these fade, the tulip-bloom in
May comes on, and as these close over the fading anemones

SPRING. 55

and hyacintlis, between them they seem- to form a perfect
hedge of mingled scarlet and gold round every bed, of
which the effect may really be termed gorgeous. There
are, of course, within the beds a few May flowers to com-
bine with them ; and I consider this the most brilliant
time. As these fade, all the June fibrous rooted plants,
beginning with early blue lupines, double-purple and
double-white rockets, peach-leaved campanulas, (blue and
white, double and single,) with small purple Siberian lark-
spurs, scarlet lychnis, and all those beautiful, but now
much-neglected " border flowers," come into beauty ; then
roses of all colours, white lilies, &c., with annuals or stocks
planted or sown near the edges, so as to grow over the
vacant space left by the bulbous root-borders ; then the
autumnal low-growing phloxes, lobelias, and, even in the
more distant beds, dahlias, with annuals and hardy calceo-
larias, last till the frost sets in ; and one feels that neat-
ness is now all that can be sought for till spring restores
gaiety and beauty once more."

At the end of March, primroses, red, white, and yellow,
come in as successors to crocuses and snowdrops. April
and May bring daffodils, narcissus, early heath, jonquils,
wall-flowers, cowslips, and polyanthus, — all common, but
all sweet, all suggestive of spring, all fit for nosegays,
and readily gathered ; contrasting pleasantly in tliis with
the tiny, low - growing flowers they have succeeded, —
to gather which required both time and patience, and
sometimes left the fingers half-frozen. These short-
stemmed flowers, which can scarcely be put into water.

56 THE CHRONICLES OF A CxAEDEX.

look well in saucers of clamp moss ; but I have seen
another pretty way of arranging them in a flower-basket,
in imitation of a grass plot with beds in it. The tin case
with which these flower-baskets are lined is filled with
damp sand; over this a piece of turf is laid, small holes
being cut into it to allow of the flowers being stuck into
the sand. Small bunches of violets, primroses, and snow-
drops have a very pretty effect in this toy garden ; crocuses
do not suit so well, as the warmth of the room makes
them expand too much ; indeed this tendency renders them
unsuited for nosegays, although their lovely colour and
early blooming make it irresistible to bring them indoors
as ornaments to the drawing-room.

Hyacinths, in water or in pots, are certainly one of our
spring pleasures, from the first watching the roots sprout-
ing and the bud swelling uj) to the full enjoyment of the
beauty and fragrance of the flower. Out of doors there
cannot be the same enjoyment of them ; but a bed of com-
mon hyacinths, not too fine to be gathered, is a great addi-
tion to the stock of flowers for spring nosegays. Common
anemones ought to be in profusion in the garden ; the
variety of their colours makes each patch of these pretty
flowers like a mingled flower-bed, while the finer double-
kinds and the ranunculus require more careful culture and
separate beds. These "wind-flowers," as they are called,
flourish readily, and are all pretty, from the Anemone lior-
tensis down to the lovely little A. nemorosa of our woods.
This last species is sometimes cultivated as a double flower,
and few things are prettier than its little white rosettes ; but

SPRING. 57

it is apt to die out, not being so hardy, I suppose, as the
single native kind. This is one of our easily transplanted
wild flowers, and among grass, and at the roots of trees, it
will flourish for years, shewing its delicate white or pink-
tinged flowers early in spring.

This endeavour to bring within our garden the flowers
of the field or the wood is not always successful, though
there are some which thrive w^ell when thus transplanted
into a more artificial hfe. It is very delightful to set out
on a bright spring day, basket and trowel in hand, on a
plant-gathering excursion ; the places where wild primroses,
anemones, woodsorrel, and foxgloves grow naturally are
always lovely — either woods, whose tender foliage is just
beginning to burst, or sunny banks under a hedgerow ;
and very beautiful it is to see the brown carjDet of last
year's leaves starred over with the snowy bells of the wood-
sorrel, or the drooping flowers of the anemone, while bank
and brae are yellow with starry primroses. No thought
then of the gardener's rule not to lift flowers in full bloom ;
the larger and more profuse the flowers, the more eager do
we feel to get them up by the root. In a wood among the
half-decayed leaf-mould this is an easy operation, but in
a grassy bank how often does the primrose tuft come up
with half its fibres cut away, the peculiar perfume of the
root telling at once the mischief it has sufi'ered. Some-
how these little flowers do not seem to suffer from this
transplanting, if kept moist and cool for a day or so ; it is
true, and " pity 'tis, 'tis true,'' they do not look so fair as
in their own native haunts, but the desire to transplant

58 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN-.

them is irresistible. We have high poetical sanction for
this robbing of the woods to deck the garden, for Words-
worth addresses his Grasmere orchard thus : —

" Dear spot, which we have watch'd with tender heed,
Bringing the chosen plants and blossoms blown
Among the distant mountains, flower and weed,
Which thou hast taken to thee as thy own,
Making all kindness register'd and known.
Thou, for our sakes, though nature's child indeed,
Fair in thj^self and beautiful alone,
Hast taken gifts which thou dost little need."

Besides this innate desire to transplant wild -flowers,
there is frequently a wish to bring away from some loved
spot where happy days have been our portion, some me-
morials of our walks and enjoyments, and flowers seem
peculiarly fitted for the purpose. We have thus long
cherished bell-heather from Loch Achray, sea-pinks from
the shores of Loch Long, primroses and anemones from
many a shady nook, and last, but not least, daffodils from
Rydal Mount.

Another pleasure in connexion with this love of wild
flow^ers is derived from forming our native plants into a
botanical bed, setting aside a portion of a border where no-
thing but British species are to grow. Some, however, of
our friends need caution ere thus introduced, for they are
apt to get beyond bounds, and can scarcely be got quit of.
Thus I have myself to thank for bringing comfrey into the
garden, where it is now a coarse and troublesome weed ; it
has no beauty, and was only planted in a botanical bed

SPRING. /)9

because it was a native plant. But what must be said
about the lovely white convolvulus 1

" The cumbrous bind-weed, with its wreaths and bells."
Alas, that it should be so, but there is not a more destruc-
tive plant in a garden, and hardly one more beautiful. It
was originally brought into our garden many a year ago,
planted and provided with stakes to climb on, and it was
not discovered for some time that it was secretly pushing
its roots through a neighbouring strawberry bed up to-
wards a wall, where it festooned the fruit trees with its
garlands of pointed leaves and snowy bells. There was no
possibility of eradicating it, although the strawberry bed
was dug up and the original root cast out ; but some of its
roots are still entwined with those of the fruit trees, and
year after year -the plant comes up. Undeterred by this,
and partly misled by its botanical name, sepiitm, which
signifies belonging to a hedge, some small portions of this
plant were put in beside a hawthorn hedge which divided
a strip of vegetable ground from the garden, under the
idea that it would climb amongst the hedge and remain
there. Again, however, the same insidious process com-
menced ; it crept underground undiscovered till it reached
a wall covered with currant bushes, and there, and also in
the intervening strip of ground, it flourished, choking the
bushes, and well meriting the epithet, " the cumbrous bind-
weed." Yet its beauty is great, both in its graceful man-
ner of growth and its pure white bells ; if it would only
keep its own place, what a pretty addition it would be to
our garden flowers.

60 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

Our spring pleasures would be very incomplete with-
out tlie song of birds and tlie commencement of nest-build-
ing among them. The first song we have is that of the
missel-thrush : harsher and shriller than the note of the
blackbird, it has yet a resemblance to the song of that
bird ; it does not repeat each note, as the song-thrush
does, and is frequently mistaken for the blackbird, even
by persons who profess to know the notes of birds. The
blackbird has a much richer, more mellow note, and does
not commence singing so early in the year as either the
missel or the song thrush. The latter forsakes the garden
almost entirely in winter, one being rarely seen ; but about
February they make their appearance, and begin singing
and building some time before the blackbird. The winter
sons^ of the robin chang-es to a more cheerful warble in
spring ; the tomtits begin even in January to utter their
cheerful but monotonous notes ; then come the hedge-spar-
row and chaffinch, the latter being an incessant singer
when once he begins, cheering even the blackest and
stormiest March days with his merry note. He is not
thought much of as a musician in this country ; but Bech-
stein, in his work on the " Natural History of Cage Birds,"
says : — " The passion for this bird is carried to such an ex-
tent in Thuringia, and those which sing well are sought
for with such activity, that scarcely a single chaffinch that
warbles tolerably can be found throughout the province.
As soon as one arrives from a neighbouring country whose
notes appear good, all the bird-catchers are after it, and do
not give up the pursuit till they have taken it." He goes

SPEING. 61

on to discribe no less than eight varieties of the song,
remarking that " the song of the chaffinch varies ahiiost as
much as tlie countries it inhabits." This last fact may be
observed here also. The song of the chaffinch is peculiar
and easily known ; but the difference between those of even
one country and another is more diflScult to describe ; it
is like the accent or tone by which people are discovered
to belong to a place, and is quickly observed by those accus-
tomed to notice the song of birds. I have observed this
difference of accent in the songs of other birds : the black-
bird and thrush, for instance, sing with a different tone
along the west coast of Scotland from what they do here ;
indeed, each thrush varies in his notes slightly from every
other, and it is quite possible to distinguish one individual
bird by his song from all the others even in the same gar-
den. The chaffinch, however, is not to be named as a song-
ster equal to these, or even to the robin, though its note is
merry and cheering from its association with spring ; it is
curious to hear them beginning to " record," as it as termed
by bird-fanciers. Every spring they seem to require several
rehearsals of their song before they can bring it out fully,
and occasionally one is heard which has never attained the
whole tune. The lark is not a garden bird, and therefore
its song cannot be included in the pleasures spring brings
within its bounds ; but it is impossible to think of that
season and its songs without recalling that

" Bird of the wilderness
Bhthesome and cumberless,"

that favourite of all — peasant and poet alike welcoming

62 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

the laverock. Hogg's Address to the Skylark is familiar
to most people ; Shelley has also written in its praise ; and
Wordsworth concludes his lines to this bird by declaring
it to be

" Type of the wise who soar — but never roam, —
True to the kindred points of heaven and home."

The gradual bursting forth of buds and leaves on shrub
and tree is a daily source of spring enjoyment ; the elder
and honeysuckle shew their purple buds early ; the lilacs
and flowering currants follow with their green buds ; each
tree and plant has its own peculiar habit and growth — each
unfolds its bud after a different manner ; and many a
pleasant hour may be passed in watching the progress and
unrolling of the buds of the various plants, so as to discover
the way the leaves are folded up and the manner in which
each opens and comes forth. Some leaves, for instance,
such as the oak, are folded from the mid-rib, so that the
upper surfaces of the two halves of the leaf are apj^lied to
each other ; in the violet the leaf is rolled inwards to-
wards the middle ; in the azalea it is rolled outwards ; in
the maple it is plaited like a fan ; in the tulip tree the point
is bent towards the base, and several leaves are packed one
within another ; while on other trees the leaf is rolled into
a single coil. It is interesting to trace thus in every work
of God's hand the variety as well as the wisdom and power
displayed ; but even to those who have not had their atten-
tion directed to these illustraticms of God's work, the
opening spring cannot fail to bring some thoughts of what

SPEING. 63

it typifies, as well as of the hope its buds give of summer's
bloom. Dora Greenwell's lines to " Hope " may be well
aj^piied to spring : —

" It was a dream of Hope ; I know the hue
Of her fresh mantle and her symbol true,
The leaf ! She cannot give the flower or fruit,
But sends their promise by a herald mute ;
The leaf that comes like one in haste to bring
The first of all some gladsome welcoming,
And cannot speak for joy, but with the hand
Still points and beckons to the coming band."

This joyous, hopeful feeling that springs up in our hearts
at this season, when watching day by day the reappearance
and progress of our flowers, is well expressed in the follow-
ing lines by Delta : —

" Come, hasten ye hither ; our garden bowers
Are green with the promise of budding flowers—^
The crocus, and spring's first messenger,
The fairy snowdrop, are blooming here ;
The taper-leaved tulip is sprouting up,
The hyacinth speaks of its purple cup,
The jonquil boasteth, ' Ere few weeks run.
My golden sunlet I '11 shew the sun : '
Primroses, an iris-hued multitude,
By the kissing winds are wooing and wooed ;
While the wallflower threatens, with bursting bud,
To darken its blossoms with winter's blood.
Come hither, come hither, and mark how swell
The fruit-buds of the jargonelle ;
Ou its yet but leaflet-greening boughs
The apricot open its blossom throws ;
The delicate peach-tree's branches run
O'er the warm wall, glad to feel the sun ;

64 THE CHEONICLES OF A GARDEN.

And the cherry proclaims of cloudless weather,
When its fruit and the blackbirds will toy together.
See, the gooseberry bushes their riches show.
And the currant bush hangs its leaves below ;
And the damp-loving rasp saith, ' I '11 win your praise
With my gratefiil coolness on harvest days.'
Come along, come along, and guess with me
How fair and how fruitful the year shall be ! "

Too true it is that sometimes these guesses and hojDes
are blighted by a late spring frost ; the blossoms of the
fruit-trees drop off, the flowers shrivel and droop, the very
leaves are scorched and blackened, and all our anticipations
of the rich beauty of

" The lilac, and the snowball flower,
And the laburnum, with its golden strings
Waving in the wind,"

and of the autumn wealth of fruit, are dashed to the
ground. Still, season after season, spring fills us with
hope ; and well it is that it should do so, for, without
hope, who could either watch or work? Both must be
done at this season. Indeed, the months of March and
April bring so much to be done, as well as to be hoped
for, that one sometimes feels at a loss what should be done
first ; frequently the caprice of the weather must be dis-
regarded, and the work pushed on ; for if not done now, it
cannot be done afterwards, and we are left to experience
the truth of the proverb, " He that will not plough by rea-
son of the cold, shall beg in harvest, and have nothing."
In amateur work, at this season, the sowing of annuals is

SPRING. do

one of the pleasantest ; and if the season be dry as well
as mild, some seeds may be put into the ground in March ;
but in cold, wet seasons, it is better to delay, for no pro-
gress is made ; the seed either rots in the earth, or comes
up in such a weak condition, that the first frosty morning
kills the tiny plants. Indeed, annuals sown in May grow
so much more rapidly, that they are frequently in flower
before the early-sown crops ; and some seeds, mignonette,
for instance, never come up at all, unless the temperature
of both air and earth is higher than it is in early spring.
Some attention must be paid as to the depth at which the
seeds are sown, as, if placed too deep, they will either die,
or remain without germinating, and at all events, these
will take much longer to come up than those sown nearer
the surface. For small seeds, such as those of most an-
nuals, a slight sprinkling of earth over them is sufficient :
but all grow best when the bed on which they are sown is
well dug, and the soil pulverised. Self-sown seeds of an-
nuals spring up earlier, and flo^^'er before those sown in
spring, perhaps because they have generally so shallow a
covering of soil ; but as they often flower more freely as
well as earlier than their cultivated relations, they should
be left undisturbed, if possible, when dressing the borders.
There are some plants which sow themselves thus so
readily, that an introduction into the garden is all they
require ; then, year after year, they spring up of their own
accord, without any fresh sowing being requisite. £sch-
schoUzia Californica is one of these, Nemophila maculata is
another ; common foxglove also spreads rapidly in this

66 THE CHEONICLES OF A GAEDEN.

way, and sometimes mignonette springs up where it lias
been sown the year before. I have seen the plan recom-
mended of forking over the plots of mignonette in autumn,
burying the plants, when it is said the seeds will spring uj:)
early next year, and produce stronger plants than if sown.
Perhaps it is because all our mignonette is gathered for
nosegays, the last blossoms being the most prized, that I can
say nothing from experience as to this plan ; but seeds
sown in autumn, if they outlive the winter, certainly flower
earlier than spring-sown ones. Something also may depend
on the liking some plants have for the particular soil or
situation. I recollect the late Dr Neill expressing surprise
at the manner in which the large scarlet poppy grew in
our garden ; it spread ahnost like a weed, and indeed had
to be dug up in some places, while he could scarcely get it
to grow, and never to propagate itself by seed. After our
seeds are sown comes the pleasure of watching for their
appearance above ground, varying, as it does, from four or
five days to twelve or fifteen, according to the weather, or
the size of the seed. In warm moist weather, there is rapid
growth ; but the difference made by temperature is of course
much more observable, when we compare seeds sown in a
hot-bed or stove with those sown in the open air. Some
seeds, zinnia, for example, spring up in five days in a
stove, while they take from twelve to twenty days in the
open air ; and in most instances recorded, a difference of
at least eight days has been observed.

Let me caution the inexperienced, however, against the
danger of weakening the young plants Avhen thus forcing

SPRING. 67

them. It is not easy to regulate the due supply of air ; and
if too rapidly forced at first, the plants lose in strength what
they gain in length, and do not correspond in their after-
growth with their early start in life. I have a lively recol-
lection of an experiment of this kind on a packet of zinnia
seeds. The pots containing these were plunged into a heap
of mown grass laid aside to decay, and, covered with a
hand-glass, they sprang up as fast as heart could wish ;
but even when exposed to the air, they grew into tall weak
shoots, and perished without having put out more than the
two seminal leaves. Both zinnias, however, and asters,
French and African marigolds, and some others, require a
moderate hot-bed to start them ; at least they are very apt
to lie dormant a long time when sown in the open ground,
coming up so irregularly, that half the seed seems to have
been unripe. The pretty Tropoeolum Ccmariense, when first
introduced, used to get little attentions of this kind, but
now it is allowed to grow from the first in the open air ;
and indeed we find our best plants are those that spring
up self-sown ; of these there is always abundance, as well
as of half-ripe seed for gathering. Soaking some seeds in
lukewarm water is another means of hastening their ger-
mination. Sweet peas, nasturtiums, lupines, and scarlet-
runners, all sprout sooner when thus immersed in water
for some hours before they are sown. Virginian stock is
about the quickest grower of the small annuals, making its
appearance above ground almost rapidly enough to satisfy
the most youthful gardener : — not quite so soon, my young
friends, as the next day after being sown, which, if I re-

68 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

member rightly, was the hoped-for time in long-ago days.
Next comes the little speckled leaf of Nemopliila insignis,
and of Venus's looking-glass; the little blue-and-white
dwarf lupine is also quickly above ground, opening its
fleshy cotyledons, and unfolding its tiny whorls of leaves,
each glistening like a diamond, for every one holds a dew-
drop in its heart. Then comes the pleasant task of thin-
ning out where too thickly sown, of weeding, of transplant-
ing such as are to be distributed over the borders, or into
beds, and last, but not least, the watering in the calm
evening, when all hopes of a shower are over ; and one is
almost reconciled to the disappointment, because of the
pleasure felt in refreshing the parched seedlings with our
own hands.

Besides sowing seeds of annuals and biennials, there is
much spring work to be done in the way of transplanting
and dividing plants that have grown beyond bounds, or
are spreading out their runners in search of " fresh fields
and pastures new." It is a good time of year to look over
the gardens of your friends as well as your own, to see
what plants have thus

" Broken their trim border lines, and stray 'd
O'er paths they used to deck ; "

for now is the time to try hits of all such, as well as to give
them. Many plants struggle out of due bounds from the
necessity of getting fresh soil ; they send out runners, and
form young plants around the old roots, and these are the
strongest and best pieces to take \\\) and transplant. If the

SPRING. 69

whole plant be lifted up and divided, fresh soil should be
given to any portion of it that may be replaced in the
original situation. Double daisies become single after a
time if not thus divided, and new pasture-ground provided
for the roots ; so do double violets ; while mimulas, cam-
panulas, and some others, provide one yearly with young
plants to give away, or to make use of in filling up blanks
in the borders.

Every one who has had any experience in the common
routine of garden work must have observed how frequently
flowers that were once plentiful gradually disappear. Some-
times the gardener is blamed, sometimes it is supposed we
have given away too many; but I suspect it frequently
arises from neglect, if not contempt of common flowers.
How often are large clumps of such dug up when they
grow too large for the place they are in, and thrown away,
because there are plenty more, or they are just common
things, or because we cannot be troubled at the time to
replant a portion of the root with a little fresh earth ; and
so by degrees common things disappear from the borders,
and many sweet as well as pretty flowers are thus lost, just
for want of a little consideration of " common things, and
plenty of them." Is it only in our gardens we act thus 1
Are our common mercies never despised, our every-day
opportunities of kind words and deeds never neglected,
because they are common, and we fancy we have so many
that we may neglect them occasionally, and no harm done?

In the Cottage Gardener for February 1850, are some
remarks by Mr Beatoun on this subject of replanting our

70 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

common flowers. He also alludes to this passing away of
even favourites when neglected, because out of fashion ; but
it is to the last portion of the passage I am about to quote
that I wish particularly to call the reader's attention, as it
refers to one of the greatest pleasures connected with either
gardening or any other pursuit, — namely, that of making
experiments : —

" It is very singular, but it is certainly a fact, that many,
or say all the summer-flowering herbaceous plants which
creep about by their roots, or by stolons, which are under-
ground branches, and not true roots, will flower from twice
to four times their natural time, or usual length of time, if
they are taken up in the spring before they make much

growth, and are divided There are a great number

of hardy plants in the way of composites, or with aster-
looking flowers ; and many of them might be had in flower
more than double the usual time if they were treated after
this manner. I used to know a good many of those old-
fashioned plants, and not a bit the worse for being so; but
I forget many of them, as one so seldom meets with any-
thing now-a-days which is thought much of, unless it be
new, or recently introduced ; but I make no doubt about
there being numbers of bedding hardy plants, now ne-
glected in botanic arrangements, or in shrubbery borders,
and the hint I wish to convey respecting them is this : —
When the borders are having their spring dressing, let side-
pieces from old patches of herbaceous plants be divided a
little, and reset near to the established plant or patch, and
let them be looked after f(^r the rest of the season, and see

SPEING. 71

they have no lack of water, or air, or thinning, or supports,
or indeed in any of their needs. Then mark how much
longer they will keep in flower than the old plant, — that is,
on the supposition that they belong to the section of her-
baceous plants suitable for that experiment ; — note down
the result. Try again and again, if you should fail in every
one instance, because you did not hit just on the exact Avay
it should be done at first. There is not a plant in the
whole garden that I would let pass at the spring dressing
without trying some experiment or another with it, so that
I might know as much about it as anybody else, if not
more. It must be very tiresome to have to send to the
Cottage Gardener to ask every little thing one would like
to know about flowers ; and if so, why not try and learn by
experiments 1 which, if they do not turn out to any good,
no one need be the wiser. Depend upon it, the spade, the
fork, and the trowel at work on a long border of old
plants, could turn up more facts than the pen of the best
writer amongst us."

Taking notes of our experiments as here advised is very
necessary, if we really wish to profit by experience ; for it
is rarely safe to trust one's memory while trying experi-
ments, and inaccurate information is w^orse than none.
Old garden diaries have an interest of their own only
known to those who have kept such. The comparison of
one year with another, as to the time of plants flowering
and birds beginning to sing, is sometimes curious from the
diversity ; but more generally I think one is struck rather
with the fact of how short the difference in time actually

/ Z THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

i.s, even between a severe spring or an ordinary one. Records
of changes made in the garden, a walk altered, a tree taken
out, or one planted, a plot laid down in grass, or a new
border made, — all of these, if duly recorded in a garden-
book, become matters of interest in after years, all the
more when those wdio then wrought by our side are re-
moved from us by distance or by death, recalling, as they
do, happy hours passed away.

Another use to be made of these note-books is marking
down what flowers are in bloom each month, and so mak-
ing a memorandum of what we want as well as of what
we have, and taking a note of the time the want should be
supplied, whether it be by getting cuttings, or plants, or
sowing the seed.

Much foresight of this kind is needed in spring, we are
so apt to forget to sow or plant till we see the flower we
wish in another person's garden ; then comes the tempta-
tion of lifting it at a wrong season, and injuring its bloom,
or sowing so late that it cannot bloom at all. An early
sowing of some annuals is recommended, for the purpose
of having small plants ready for bedding out, or for suc-
ceeding the spring bulbs. There is one I must mention as
both ornamental and useful, from its branching habit, and
the length of time it flowers, Silene pendida, a neat little
rose-coloured flower ; it may also be sown in autumn, and
planted out in spring.

By the time, however, we get the length of planting out
seedlings, we are aware that spring, with its opportunities,
is passing into summer. Our early favourites have passed

SPRING. 73

away, and a blank is sometimes felt between the last blow
of narcissus, jonquils, cowslips, jDolyanthus, anemones, and
tlie first blow of our summer flowers. A few days of
drought often come on about this time, the white lilies
fade suddenly, and lilac, laburnum, and hawthorn shed
their withering blossoms on the ground. We can scarcely
welcome summer thus accompanied by the passing away of
spring, and mourn its departure as much as we welcomed
its approach.

'' Sweet season, appealing

To fancy and feeling,
Be thy advent the emblem of all I would ci-ave ;

Of light more than vernal,

That day-spring eternal
"Which shall dawn (jn the dark wintry night of the grave "

*?itiiniur.

" As now, on some delicious eve,
We, in our sweet sequester'd orchard-plot,
Sit on the tree crook'd earthward ; whose old boughs,
That hang above us in an arborous roof,
Stirr'd by the faint gale of departing day,
Send their loose blossoms slanting o'er our heads."

C0LEHID(iE.

IN leaving spring and entering upon summer the tran-
sition is so gradual tliat we scarcely know whether to
class the month of ]May as the last of the S2)ring months
or the first of those of summer ; much depends on the
weather, but perhaps it is the condjination of spring with
summer that makes this month so universal a favourite
with old and young. In Scotland, however, it is rarely

/ 6 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

warm enough to allow of what may be classed as one of
the chief pleasures of summer in the garden, I mean sitting-
out of doors, or rather, living as much as possible in the
open air. It is not merely when actually at work in the
garden that this pleasure may be enjoyed ; but reading,
sewing, and even writing may be carried on out of doors,
and much quiet enjoyment derived from doing so. I have
often wondered why people so seldom avail themselves of
this luxury ; they will live year after year in the country
and never go out except for a walk or a drive, — scarcely
even for that dehcious indulgence, a saunter, will they
move from indoors work or idleness. It must be admitted
that one great charm of sitting or sauntering out of doors
is, the idleness that yet feels like doing something, and
that it is not always easy to think or read steadily in the
open air ; but for all the usual occupations that w^e call
work, there are few more enjoyable sitting-rooms than the
grassy shade under a large tree, and very little practice
will enable any one to carry on many indoor occupations
in the pleasure grounds.

No doubt it is still more delightful to sit out of doors
and fix our tent among the rocks of the sea-shore, or on
the thymy side of a hill, among the boulders, or on a fallen
trunk of a tree in the deep, cool shade of a Vv'ood, with a
burn rippling at our feet ; but we have not always in our
power to luxuriate in such situations, and it is wise and
well to be content with such things as we have, and to
enjoy the common blessings that lie at our doors. If you
have but one tree, have a seat under it, — if you have none,

SUMMER. i 9

plant a bower ; but whenever our changeable climate admits
of it. learn to sit out of doors. When actually in the
country, during a long walk or a short saunter, there is a
power of selecting fitting resting-places, and some people
seem to have a knack of finding the most pleasant nooks,
while others seat themselves anywhere, turning their backs
on the view, and evidently considering sitting out of doors
only as a rest from fatigue, not as an additional source of
enjoyment. Some never go to a new place but almcvst the
first thought is where they may sit out in the open air ;
and, ere two days have elapsed, the out-of-doors drawing-
room is as familiar as the indoors.

Bright visions of past days come over me as I write. I
seem to see a gray rock half sunk in the grass, shaded by
an old holly tree ; it lay but a few steps from the cottage
door, on a hill-side, and around and beneath it lay stretched
the lovely vale of Grasmere, encircled by its guardian hills ;
or a quiet nook in the shades of Killiecrankie, with the wild
Garry rushing beside the half-hidden seat among brakes
and trailing brambles, while the timid squirrel would
gambol near, all unaware of human onlooker.

" Beautiful ! —
How beautiful is all this fair, free world
Under God's opeu sky ! "

In thus placing sitting out of doors as the first of our
summer enjoyments of the garden, I am not advocating
idleness : — what is meant is rather the carrying on of our
work, when practicable, in the open air — light reading and
ladies' work are as easily attended to as sketching, and do

80 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

not suffer in consequence of the frequent glances of enjoy-
ment cast around, or the interruptions caused by shy visits
of inspection by birds. Those who dwell in cities must
often wonder that those w^ho have garden ground around
their houses should so seldom enjoy it thus ; how often, in
paying a forenoon visit, do we not hear the remark made
that it is a sin to sit in the house on such a day, when

" All thmgs that love the sun are out of doors ;"

and how pleasant it is when the visit is paid in the open

air, under the shade of the trees, the birds singing around,

and the landscape beyond our narrow bounds bathed in

summer light. While sitting quietly and alone out of

doors, the small birds seem to lose their timidity, and hop

near one, — sometimes gathering materials for their nests,

sometimes seeking food, sometimes apparently coming to

see why you are there, and what you are doing — darting oft'

at the rustle of a page turning, or any sudden movement ;

while ever and anon the book is laid aside, and the play of

the shadows on the grass under the trees, or the passing of

the bright clouds above, lead the mind into a pleasing

dreamy state. Wordsworth, indeed, alludes to his garden

as a

" Happy garden, whose seclusion deep
Hath been so friendly to indvMrious hours."

}jut I suspect most of us common mortals must confess to
our seclusion bringing forth little more than quiet enjo}^-
ment. There is much to be learnt, no doubt, in com-
nninion with nature; even in "the trim garden's narrow

SUMMER. 81

round," many types of higher things are suggested by
ahnost all the occupations there, as well as by our plants
and flowers themselves ; some of these, being scriptural,
will recur to every one, but it is by no means an unprofit-
able task to find new analogies and types for ourselves, —
it must be a very dull, prosaic mind that does not almost
involuntarily do so.

George Herbert says — "Our Saviour made plants and

seeds to teach the people And I conceive our

Saviour did this for reasons : first, that by familiar things
He might make His doctrines slip the more easily into
the hearts, even of the meanest ; secondly, that labouring
people, whom He chiefly considered, might have every-
where monuments of His doctrine — remembering in gardens
His mustard-seed and lilies, in the field His seed-corn and
tares, and so not be drowned altogether in the works of
their vocation, but sometimes lift up their minds to better
things, even in the midst of their pains."

" For all that meets the bodily sense I deem
Symbolical — one mighty alphabet
For infant minds ; and we in the low world,
Placed with our backs to bright reality,
That we may learn with young unwounded ken
The substance from its shadow."

Few people, it is true, can make such use of these sym-
bols as the poets have done to instruct others ; but the
power of discovering and enjoying these teachings from
God's book of nature adds greatly to the pleasure of oiir
work, and occupies the mind while the hands are employed

82 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

" dressing and keeping" the garden. Many have no doubt
enjoyed the evening in the open air, who yet would never
for themselves have drawn the following thought from the
closing up of our bright-eyed favourites, the daisies ; and
yet, when w^e do meet with such passages in the poets,
we feel how much the idea suggested adds to the interest
of the simple occurrences around us : —

*' Observe liow dewy Twilight lias withdrawn
The crowd of daisies from the shaven lawn,
And has restored to view its tender green
That, while the snn rode high, was lost beneath their

dazzling sheen.
An emblem this of what the sober hour
Can do for minds disposed to feel its power.
Thus oft when we in vain have wish'd away
The petty pleasures of the garish day.
Meek eve shuts up the whole usurping host,
Unbashful dwarfs each glittering at his post,
And leaves the disencumbered spirit free
To reassume a staid simplicity."

By the time the weather permits the sitting out of doors
just spoken of, most of our spring fjwourites will have
passed away, and summer's fuller and more plentiful supply
will have again appeared. It is a good thing to liave
plenty of common flowers, every-day favourites —

" Creatiu'es not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food " —

flowers tliat m;iy be pulled, flowers suitable for nosegays,
flowers tliat seem to grow better for having their blossoms
gathered. This gathering of flowers for nosegays, either

SUMMEPw. 83

for one's self or one's friends, is such a pleasure, that I
often wonder at its being so frequently deputed to the
gardener. It is true that generally he knows best what t(»
cut and how to cut, he can and does generally tie up a
nosegay with an air about it that unprofessional hands
seldom can give, and frequently he bestows flowers from
greenhouse or garden that- the owners thereof dared not
have pulled ; still it is a pleasure to most people to pull
flowers and arrange them for themselves, and, with plenty
of old-fashioned common flowers, it might be safely in-
dulged in, and the garden be none the worse. Indeed, L
remember asking a gardener once some questions about
the best season and mode of pruning roses, and the
answer was, that he saw few rose bushes flower so well as
those in his father's garden, where the blossoms were
gathered daily for the market ; they needed no other prun-
ing than this, and were always covered with flowers.
"There is that scattereth and yet increaseth ;" this rule
seems to apply well to a liberal spirit in our gardening, as
well as in other things, so let no one grudge slips and
cuttings, or nosegays to less favoured friends : indeed, one
needs to have been a dweller in town at some period or
other fully to appreciate the value of floweis. There are
some kinds of flowers more suited for this free gathering
than others — such as honeysuckle ; common white, cab-
bage, damask, moss, and Chinese roses ; pinks, at least
when allowed to grow into large clumps ; and wallflowers :
and among annuals, mignonette and sweetpeas, Stocks.
at least fine double sorts, are not very available for this

84 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

purpose, and the single kind is generally desj^ised as not
worth culture ; but it is even more fragrant than the
double, and, from its branching growth, can be gathered
without destroying the appearance of the plant, so it should
be sown by all those who love cut-flowers ; and even when
growing, a bed of it is so deliciously sweet in the evening,
that I often wonder it is not more cultivated. Rocket, or
dame's violet, is another of the night-smelling flowers, and
very beautiful and fragrant it is ; the variety called French
rocket has a lilac tinge in the flower, and a greater ten-
dency to branch out than the pure white kind ; they like a
rich soil, and may be propagated by slipjiing off small
pieces in August, or by diverting the roots. Its scientific
name, Hesperis, has been given on account of its perfume
becoming so much more powerful in the evening ; its dark-
coloured little relative, Hesperis tristis, has this 23eculiarity
in a still more marked degree, without the queenly beauty
of the Hesperis matronalis to recommend it by day.

" Moi-tal ! bethink thee — if at close of day
Both bird and flower their grateful homage pay,
This in sweet odour, that in tuneful song,
What thankful strains should flow from human tongue !
Oh think what noble mercies crown thy daj^s,
Then be thy life one ceaseless act of praise ! "

The evening hour in the garden is enjoyed by most
people as a time of rest and quiet ; and certainly after we
have visited our floral friends, among whom we have been
working durhig the day, and have enjoyed the sight of
seedlings and cuttings refreshed with the evening's water-

SUMMER. 85

ing, tliere is mucli quiet luxury in sitting still, breathing
the fragrance from birch trees and blossoms, and listening
to the birds as, one by one, they cease their evening song,
till at last the thrush alone is left, nightingale-like, to sing
on till dusky twilight soothes even him to sleep. Now,
however, begins one of the great pleasures of a garden to
those who are lovers of natural history, even if as yet they
scruple to arrogate the title of entomologists, and humbly
call themselves collectors only. The watching for and
capturing moths is the pleasure I allude to, and I fear-
lessly appeal to any who have tried it whether it is not a
most fascinating occupation. Like angling, the charm of
this does not lie alone in success, for night after night the
hope of making some wonderful capture leads one on,
and the patience of the angler is equalled, if not excelled,
by the moth-hunter, as he watches and paces about for
hours, forceps in hand, ready to entrap his prey. The
pleasure of capturing a new specimen is great, so is that of
getting hold of an insect newly out of the chrysalis, fresh
and feathery ; and, however grateful one feels to kind
friends who give duplicates, and however pleasant it is to
place such specimens in the blank space left for them in
the cabinet, it is nothing compared to the delight of first
securing a rare insect ourselves, or even of seeing one flying
about that we have only known hitherto in collections. I
can recall yet the feeling of pleasure experienced at the
mere sight of the peacock butterfly hovering over and
basking upon the flowers of the China aster; it is rare near
Edinburgh, and yet, even to secure an undoubted Scotch

■Si; THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

specimen, I could not bring myself to make a prisoner, or
l)ut to death, our beautiful visitor. Moth-hunting may
sometimes be successfully carried on indoors on a summer
evening, the light in the sitting-rooms attracting them in
at the open windows ; but unless the lights are shaded by
glass, the moths are apt to injure themselves so as to be
useless as specimens — a consideration that seems to weigh
very little with these infatuated insects.

But it is time we turn from these desultory uses and
enjoyments of the garden, to some notice of the more
practical parts of gardening ; although all we can attem[)t
to do, is merely to suggest some few favourite flowers, and
give a slight notice of their culture.

The early part of summer is a very busy time, when the
task of filling up beds with the small seedlings or other
hedding-out plants commences. In most gardens, some of
the beds have been filled with early tulips, hyacinths,
ranunculuses, &c., &c. Some of these may scarcely be
ready for removal in June, when the summer planting-out
commences. The roots must be very carefully lifted, the
foliage as little injured as possible, and the plants or bulbs
should be buried in sand till the leaves decay, before drying
the roots for storing them away. The beds must then be
<lug up, fresh compost added, and the plants put in, gently
watered, and pegged down, or tied to stakes, as they may
require. Annuals for these beds must of course be sown
ill spring, so as to be ready for planting-out now, and, as a
general rule, tlie small seedlings may be planted pretty
thickly, as some die out and leave unsightly blanks.

SUMMER. 5/

About the prettiest annual for bedding out is Hoponaria
calahrica, tlie deep-Vjlue lobelia i.s another little beauty,
the small red nasturtium called Thom Thumb makes u
gay bed, and lasts long in flower ; and there is also a
beautiful crim son flox, Linum ruhrum, which is a fine contrast
of colour to the lobelia. Without going into the regular
science of arranging beds in coloured masses, there is still
room in the smallest j^arterres for planting harmonious
colours together, and avoiding the error of placing crimson
and scarlet, or blue and lilac, beside each other. Scarlet
geraniums are frequently planted along with yellow calceo-
larias or blue salvias, but I think they form a much
more pleasing contrast with white jacobea, or double
fever-few ; the grey lilac of the heliotrope also contrasts
well with the bright scarlet, especially when the flowers
are gathered for a nosegay ; but, as a matter of taste, I
prefer the geranium alone in a bed, or mingk-d with white
flowers.

In sowing annuals where they are to remain in patches
in the borders, it is not easy to sow some of the small seeds
thinly, and some resolution is required to thin the seed-
lings out after they haye sprung up. It must be done,
however, or the flowers will be poor, scanty, and soon over ;
whereas in a well thinned-out bed, where the plants get air
and room, they will last much longer in flower, as well as
look much better. All that are thus weeded out need not be
thrown away ; some may be transplanted to other parts of
the border, where they will continue in bloom longer than
those left in the ori>:inal bed. 8ome annuals seem to have

88 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

greater facility in sowing themselves than others ; the little
plants thus self-sown come up in the spring : they may then
either be transplanted or left where they are, and they will
flow^er earlier and better than those sown by the hand. It
is years since we have sown Eschscholtzia Galifornica, the
beds and borders have been altered and dug again and
again, and yet, year after year, it springs up in all parts of
the garden, and brightens the borders with its golden
flowers, more like tropical butterflies than blossoms. Ne-
mophila 7naculata, too, which was thought so much of some
seasons ago, grows like a weed in all the beds where it was
originally sown, as the little seedlings, when transplanted,
grow into handsome spreading plants. One of the most
determined instances of an annual thus establishing itself,
and actually overrunning the ground, occurred in one portion
of the garden, where some beds, separated by gravel walks,
made a small separate garden. In 1854, a bed of a small
silene-like annual was sown here : the flowers were thought
insignificant, though bright, so it was never resown ; next
year seedlings appeared all over the plots, and, even after
being well weeded out, made a gay show in autumn ; year
after year they came up, till two years ago, when the little
garden was remodelled, laid down in turf, and beds cut out
in difi'erent places. Last summer (18G2) there was the
plant springing up, as vigorously as ever, in a bed of roses,
and there it got leave to remain and flower undisturbed, its
perseverance entitling it to rank as an old friend, and not
merely as an annual.

No garden, however small, can get on without annuals;

SUMMER. 89

their number and variety are endless ; but as many of them,
if properly treated and planted out, make more show, and
flower better, than when so^^^l and left in clumps, there is
no need of taking up much ground with them. Some
species look well even as single plants, branching out and
flowermg in an independent free wa}^, quite as handsomely
as some biennials. Clarkia pulchella, blue and yellow
lupines, purj3le candytuft, and the large everlastings, seem
to like occasionally thus to be left alone in their glor}^
'* Sow thick, thin in time,^' is said to be a golden rule in culti-
vating annuals ; the thinning should be performed in damp
weather, if possible, and the thinnings-out may be trans-
planted into a separate bed. The sowing of these plants
may and ought to be carried on from February till Septem-
ber, so as to have a succession for planting out ; indeed, in
one of Mr Beatoun's papers in the Cottage Gardener, he goes
so far as to say, " I am now convinced that not one of them "
(he is treating of annuals) " should ever be allowed to flower
without being transplanted, except the mignonette, and two
or three others." Further allusion will be made to this
subject when we come to our garden work and j^leasures m
autumn and winter ; but if we wish annuals to flower in
winter, they must be sown from April till June, and potted
off singly or by threes when they spring up. The autumn-
sown seeds and self-sown plants springing up in the borders
come early into flower, and one use to be made of these is
the filling up of blank spaces in the beds when summer
half-hardy plants are scarce. Mr Beatoun says, " Flower-beds
which were planted properly last May will now (July,) or very

00 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

soon, require to be thinned out. What I call ' planting pro-
perly,'is that the M'hole surface be as much covered as possible
at the first planting, and more particularly the sides, which
can hardly be planted too closely. When the stock of plants
is too limited to allow of this liberal planting, the next
best mode is to have recourse to spring-sown annuals, and
to fill up in rows, or in broad patches, between the perma-
nent plants; and as the latter are now spreading freely,
these temporary helps must be removed gradually, that is,
a few at a time. . . . The proper way to act when summer
half-hardy plants are scarce is this, and even where no
scarcity is known it is a good plan. The beds being
ready in April or May, let the summer plants, as verbenas,
petunias, &c., be planted in regular rows, and at such dis-
tances as will allow of their getting too crowded before the
end of July, and particularly the last row next the grass or
gravel ; the least spreading plants should have a free space
of at least nine inches between them and the edge of the
bed, and a foot is not too much for most of them. Then,
the beds being so far planted, let regular rows of annuals
be transplanted from the reserve garden in the intervening
spaces. These will flower and look very gay from the end
of May til] this time, when the permanent plants will be
so far spread as to require a thinning of the annuals.
Virginian stocks in full bloom will easily transplant for this
purpose, and so will Sphenogyne speciosa, the prettiest
of all yellow annuals while it lasts, navelwort, white,
with the purple and white candytuft, Calendula hyhrida,
white ; all the Clarkias, Collinsias, Godetias, with Euchari-

SUMMKR. 91

diuw. grand if. orara, Co<:hUo.rio. aco.vii.H, and many other
low things, would easily traasplant in the same way, and,
after good waterings, would make a gay assemblage, and
render the beds not only full of plants, but also with dis-
tinct colours, while the summer plants were getting estal>-
ILshed'' Annuals, myna. in the beginning of April, should
come into flower in June, while those sown at the end of
the month will flower in July. For the early part of June,
another supply may be sown for flowering from August
to October. The best annuals for this summer sowing
are VijscaHa oculata, Conopifijs Drvmrn.f/ndii, Virginian
stocks, candytufts, and EschischoUzia Californica. This latter
Is really a perennial, but it is said to flower best when
s<jwn every year, and treated as an annual Before turn-
ing to another department of summer work in the garden,
I must indulge myself with an extract from the CotMye
Gardener, where Mr Beatoun recommends every one to tr\'
the efiect of a bed of these two common annuals, XemophUa
maculat/i and insignis. These simple, cheap exj>eriments
are indeed one of the chief channs of the garden, and here
is an account of one that everybody may try for them-
sfilves : —

" The plants were rem^jved at the end of February from
the seed-bed, they were planted in rows nine inches apart
each way ; the soil was light, but as rich as richness could
make it. Two plants of ma/ralaia and one uf irungnu, or
the spotted and blue ; thus one-third of the bed was of the
blue sort, and two-thirds of the light, with purj^le sjxjts.
The flowers or colours were as regularly di-spo.sed all over the

92 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN".

bed as if they were set by hand ; a bed with equal numbers
of the two was gay, of couse, but appeared as nothing to
the striking effect of the former mixture. A less number
of the blue does not answer at all. I hope every one Avho
delights in the simple combinations that can be produced
by very simple flowers, will try a bed of these two pretty
annuals next spring ; the seeds of both may be sown any
day in August. Those that I saw were from self-sown
seeds last July, but if we had had a hard winter they must
have perished, as they were strong plants by the end of
October." In planting beds of annuals, the distances
between each plant depend on its habit of growth ; thus
while nine inches are recommended above as the proper
distance between the JVemophilas, three inches are sufficient
for Lobelia rcwiosa, six inches for Lobelia gracilis and San-
vitalia procumbens, four inches for Clarkia pulchella, while
the pretty little Saponaria Calabrica may be j^lanted nine
inches apart, and Convolvulus minor and Eschscholtzia, ten.
Another branch of the culture of flowers that has a
charm about it, felt alike by gardeners and amateurs, is
striking cuttings. The pleasure of success is greater than in
merely seeing seeds springing up, the plants are more per-
manent possessions, and w^e feel more as if our own skill
liad brought about the successful result. Although the
gentle warmth of a hotbed is essential to the striking root
of many cuttings, and an advantage to all, both in point of
security and celerity, yet there are many of our favourites
that will take root in the open border, or under a hand-
glass ; so that, with a little care and attention to keeping

SUMMER. 93

the cuttings moist and partly shaded, this pleasant part of
gardening may be enjoyed by those who have neither
hotbeds nor gardeners to assist them.

In preparing a bed for cuttings, the soil should be made
fine and mixed with sand, gently and thoroughly watered
before the cuttings are put in. The north side of a w\all is
a good situation for such a bed, though, if proper shade
can be secured, the warmth of a south border accelerates
the rooting. Pansies, pinks, roses, rockets, snapdragons,
fuschias, indeed almost all the common shrubby and herba-
ceous plants, may be thus propagated, even by unskilful
hands : though many die, the survivors are all the more
prized. Let no amateur get discouraged because every
cutting a gardener puts in lives, w^hile time after time
damp, or dryness, or w^orms, or neglect, or too much care,
kill off almost all his little plants — try again is our advice.
Slips or cuttings taken from near the root of a plant are
most easily rooted, generally they should have ripened
wood at the base ; if cut off just below a joint, they root
more quickly than when slipped off with a little bit called
a heel adhering to them, but the latter are more sure of
success. If cuttings are planted in flower-pots, place them
round the sides, so as to touch the pot; they root more
surely thus than if planted in the centre; and keep all
frames, glasses, and cutting-pots clean and free from mould.
I remember trying successfully an experiment I read of :
the cuttings were of ten roses, and they w^ere struck in
water, which was kept warm by the pot being plunged in
a hot bed. The hole in the flower-pot was stopped up by

94 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

a piece of cork, the top was covered with stout brown
paper, tied down, a row of holes large enough to admit
the ends of the cuttings being previously made all round
the paper; a larger hole in the centre admitted of water
being poured into the flower-pot when the first supply-
sunk low. The cuttings rooted in about ten days, if I
remember rightly, and were then planted in small pots,
and kept moist and shady for a few days, till they were
accustomed to draw their nourishment from the more
solid soil. I remember also that the gardener smiled
c()ntemi)tuously when the flower-pot was placed in his hot-
bed ; but if my readers wish to enjoy the garden and the
work in it, they must learn to bear with ecpianimity the
quiet contempt with which then- little experiments will
frequently be treated by the initiated : if the experiments
succeed, the triumph is all the greater — if they fail, keep
your own counsel.

It is often against the will of the gardener that many an
old-fashioned plant is left growing, or that some are allowed
to spread out into large clumps ; but most jieople w^ho
love a garden and flowers, without being florists, will
greatly prefer having plenty of common flowers, and large
masses of them, to having a few rarities, however finely
grown, which they dare not pull, and can scarcely consider
as their own at all. I like the old-fashioned plan of having
what used to be called a back border ; boxwood is cer-
tainly the best and triggest for tlie front, but all along the
])a(;k of the border I like to see a thick row of jH-imroses
or double daisies, f(jrming quite a wreath of flowers; by

SUMMER. 9o

placing them there, more room is left in the borders for
other flowers, and they will bloom and look gay for many
years without behig lifted and separated, though that pro-
cess requires to be submitted to occasionally. Fill up the
border with common roses — the old cabbage, the white,
the damask, — these old friends used to grow and flower
without all the care the new favourites get ; keep pretty
large clumps of Canterbury bells, columbines, snapdragons,
foxgloves, pinks, stove carnations and pansies, and with a
judicious mixture of beds of annuals, the borders will be
always gay and full. All the varieties of campanulas are
pretty, from the old tall Canterbury bells down to the
pretty little harebell, Campanula pumila. They are easily
propagated by dividing the roots, indeed, rather too easily
sometimes, for they are apt to run over the borders; and
there is one species wdiich is as difficult to get rid of when
once it has established itself as either 'the white bindweed
or the rank bishopweed. I have seen a very pretty back
border made with alternate plants of the blue and white
Campanula pumila; and Campanula Carpatica 3ind alba
are recommended for beds and edgings. The seeds are
small, and should be only slightly covered with soil ; the
plants will not flower till the second year, except of course
those which are annuals, or those which are sown early and
raised on a slight hotbed. One objection to the plan of
growing plants in beds being the empty look such have in
early spring, or even when newly planted ; it might be an
improvement, I think, if something of a permanent border
were planted round these beds, either of flowers that

96 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

bloom early, sucli as crocuses, snowdrops, or winter aconite,
or of some low-growing plant that, even when out of flower,
would remain as a green edging. This is a matter of taste,
as I believe many j^eojile dislike any mingling of difl'erent
kinds of flowers in beds ; but to those who like to have
always something coming into blossom, and who have a
lingering love for the old-fashioned mixed border, this plan
might be agreeable. The edging should, if possible, flower
at a different season from the plants bedded out, and be of
a compact growth ; double daisies, early-flowering heath.
Phlox frondosa, Saxifraga hypnoides or oppositifolia,
gentians, or stonecrops, might all be used advantageously
in this way, as these would leave their foliage when the
flowers faded, while in those beds where snowdrops and
crocuses made the early edging, their places would have to
be filled up by early-sown dwarf annuals, such as Silene
pendula or Virginian stock.

Too much attention cannot be paid to tying-up and
training w^hile the full growth of summer is on our garden ;
keeping plants in their places is as necessary as keeping
people in theirs, and by means of small sticks put in
amongst some of the low -growing plants, and pegging
down the rambling shoots of others, while the taller plants
are tied to proper supports in time, the beauty and order
of the borders are greatly increased. In tying uj) bushy
plants, use several stakes, if necessary, so as to avoid the
sheaf-like look they acquire when tied u}) tightly to one
stake, and do not wait till a stormy day comes ere securing
the Canterbury bells, snapdragons, lychnises, and such like,

SUMMER. 97

to firm but slender stakes, or they will be either broken off
or twisted out of all proper form. There is a very simple
and speedy manner of pegging down verbenas or any slight
stems, which I have found effectual : — Take narrow strips
of tough bass, about five inches long, put them like loops
over the ends of the branches, and push the ends under
ground with your forefinger ; this holds them down quite
as effectually as the small forked sticks, which torment one
by snapping off perpetually. Pieces of wire cut into proper
lengths, and bent into a hook at one end, are also an effec-
tual means of pegging down ; but the bass-matting is easily
procured, prepared, and applied. It is curious to mark
how much more rapid the growth of climbing plants is
when supported than when left to trail on the ground ; no
sooner does a tiny leaf of the Tropwolum Ganay^iense, or tri-
color, get hold of a proper support, than the plant, ap-
parently rendered secure as to the future, begins to grow
rapidly, and soon covers with its graceful foliage the sprays
or strings put for its guidance and assistance. The canary
creeper will run up to a great height, and forms graceful
festoons when trained up the outside of a window and
carried along the toj), or over a porch or rustic gateway.
This pretty creeper seems to enjoy a wet season ; it has
grown luxuriantly this summer, (186^;) and it may be a
useful hint to our readers to mention, that its seeds, when
gathered green and dried in the sun or a warm room, ripen
by degrees, and are quite good for sowing next spring.
The first time I ever saw this plant was upwards of
twenty years ago, when a friend gave me three seeds, sent

98 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

from Madeira; these Avere sown in a flower-pot, covered
with a hand-glass, and only planted out when summer was
fairly established. I knew little about its growth, and
was delighted to see the progress these made when some
branching sprays w^ere stuck in beside them; and when, by
means of strings stretched horizontally, the plants grew up
ten or twelve feet high, covered with their Httle yellow
canary-bird-like flowers, we were never weary of admiring
them. Both this species and the common nasturtium may
be trained up a wall among ivy, where their gay blossoms
contrast beautifully with the dark glossy leaves ; indeed,
in all parts of a garden this mingling of bright summer
flowers with evergreens has a good eff'ect. Pvoses especially
shew well when backed by laurels ; a row of these flowers,
trained as pillar roses, makes a beautiful foreground in an
avenue of evergreens —

" Every flower assuming
A more than natural vividness of hue
From unaffected contrast with the gloom
Of sober cypress and the darker foil
Of yew."

The mere mention of roses must be enough ; for volumes,
instead of pages, would require to be dedicated to them.
Many of the new kinds flower on so late in autunni as
almost to deserve their name of perpetual roses ; but, after
all, the old-fashioned common Chinese rose flowers earlier
and lingers longer in bloom than any of the newer kinds,
and no garden should be without plenty of these hardy,
trustworthy friends. The first blow of these comes on early

SUMMER. 99

ill June, before even the white roses; and though they are
apt to be slighted during the fulness and variety of sum-
mer's flowers, yet when all our brighter blossoms have left
us, the Chinese rose flowers on often till December; and pale
and frail as its buds become, we value it then, and never
feel the garden or drawing-room perfectly flowerless till the
bitter frosts of winter have killed our Chinese roses. But
I am anticipating, though, indeed, it is not easy to say
what are summer and what are autumn flowers : for many,
such as the dahlia, that used to rank among the latter, now
mingle with roses and pinks; but if I allow them to
trespass on my summer chapter, I fear I will have nothing
left for autumnal records. So as Spring glided into Sum-
mer, let Autumn gradually take her turn, and, rich in
fruits and flowers, " crown the year with goodness."

^11 turn 11.

'' Comes next
Bi'own Autumn in her turn.

Oh ! not unwelcome cometh she ;

The parched earth luxuriously
Drinks from her dewy urn.

And she hath flowers and fragrance too.

Peculiarly her own ;
Asters of every hue — perfume
Spiced rich with clematis and broom,

And mignonette late blown."

Mrs South ey,

T

HERE is certainly more ditference in our feelings and
associations with the beginning of autumn and the
close of it than there is between the commencement and the
end of any other season ; for the end of each of the three
preceding, if we reckon winter first, is full of hope, and the
commencement (except winter) full of pleasure. Autumn
begins gloriously ; its flowers are gorgeous in hue, and its

104 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

fruits, whether useful to man or merely ornamental, as ber-
ries, are beautiful in their contrast with the green leaves.

" The mountain ash
No eye can overlook, when, 'mid a grove
Of yet unfadecl trees, she lifts her head,
Deck'd with autumnal berries that outshine
Spring's richest blossoms."

In August, September, and the first part of October,
the garden is in full blow ; we scarcely seem to miss our
summer roses, and pinks, and honeysuckles, while their
places are supplied by the less fragrant but bright asters,
hollyhocks, dahlias, verbenas, late sown annuals, scarlet
geraniums, and other greenhouse favourites planted out in
the borders.

One of the most beautiful of those early autumn flowers
is the gladiolus, either grown in a bed or in clumps : the
brightness and yet delicacy of its varied shades of colour,
and the length of time its noble spikes continue in flower,
unite to make it one of the most valuable additions to our
gardens. The roots of the finer varieties require to be
lifted before winter, and carefully guarded from frost; but
I remember reading an account of the management of
Gladiolus cardinalis in the gardens of Blairadam, where
it was stated that, after the bulbs or tubers had grown
to a large clump, they could be left in the ground all
winter. Like the dahlia, the roots of the gladiolus are
benefited by being started in spring in a hotbed, so as to
bring them into flower early in the season, as these flowers
are very susceptible to frost, and are apt to be cut off" in

AUTUMN. 105

one night, when in the height of their bloom, if an unex-
pected frost comes on.

The jessamine, with its snowy stars and graceful
leaves, is another of our autumn favourites ; and one
cannot help regretting that its place, on wall or house, is
now so often usurped by more showy, but less permanent,
less fragrant, creepers. Most people associate this plant
with old-fashioned houses, and perhaps one of its charms
arises from this association, recalling summer evenings in
some well-remembered C[uaint wainscoted room, where the
air was perfumed with the sweet jessamine trained around
the small windows, and every f^iint breeze brought its
fragrant breath into the room. Our childhood's days, too,
are recalled, when, seated on the grass whitened by the
fallen flowers, we gathered and strung them as garlands,
sweet and delicate, though mayhap neither so fresh as the
daisy chains of spring, nor so rich as the rowan-berry neck-
laces that emulate the coral.

" 0 simple flower,
That sight of thee should waken to tliis hour
Tht)ughts more than tongue can tell ! "

There is a disadvantage no doubt in having jessamine
trained on a dwelling-house, because in winter it looks
dead and dark, and is apt to get filled up with faded
leaves ; but, in spite of this, I would feel unwilling to
banish an old and merited favourite. A similar objection
applies to the sweet-scented clematis and the honeysuckle,
which resemble bundles of dry sticks in winter ; yet would
we not feel it ungrateful almost to turn against and discard

106 THE CHEONICLES OF A GARDEN.

them in the " winter of their discontent," when we know
what they have been and will be again, if we will but bear
patiently, and hoj^e in the dark season 1

Carnations are now in full blow, and, either as separate
plants or in a bed, they are beautiful ; and as they are not
very difficult of cultivation, I wonder why these flowers
should have gone so much out of fashion. Except the
clove carnation, there are few with much perfume to boast
of. Their cousin, the pink, far excels them in that respect;
but the variety of their colours, and a sort of cpieenly grace
about their tall stems and rich flowers, make them very
attractive, — and for cut bouquets in autumn they are valu-
able, as they keep long fresh in water. In alluding to the
possibility of gathering carnations for nosegays, I am quite
aware that I am on dangerous ground ; the sight of a lady,
flower-scissors in hand, approaching a bed of choice carna-
tions, would drive a gardener to his wits' end ; but I am
writing on the pleasures of gardening, and not on the cul-
ture of flowers, and certainly, having plenty of common,
free - flowering carnations, and sometimes gathering the
same, is a source of lawful enjoyment. I admit that it is
not so to gather the gardener's flowers, or an amateur's
choice specimens, or even to cull flowers at all in any one's
garden but your own ; tltere, however, carnations may be
in sufficient abundance to be gathered, even although a
few select specimens may be " tabooed " by the gardener,
or grower tliereof. There is one kind, of a bright flesh
colour, but no scent, wliich flowers late and profusely ;
then there are pale pink and pure white varieties, also full

AUTUMX. 107

bloomers, but as these last are jagged at the edges, I sus-
pect they are not true carnations. The common deep red
khid, though seldom deserving its name of clove, has more
perfume than those others, and when allowed to attain to
a good size in the borders, it thrives and flowers well with
very little attention. I am not competent to treat of car-
nations, or any other " florist's flowers," as to the real
culture ; but there are so many treatises on all these, that
no one can be at a loss, who really wishes to study the
.subject ; all I wish to do is, to rescue the carnation from
too rigid a seclusion, and persuade lovers of flowers to grow
it more freely.

The greenhouse plants bedded out in early summer
should now be in full flower — scarlet geraniums, helio-
tropes, verbenas, and lobelias, while the spring - sown
annuals, especially China asters, French and African mari-
golds, and mignonette, will be making beds and borders
gay. The time of flowering of these, and of biennials, may
be prolonged by cutting off decayed flower-stems and seed-
pods ; this operation is also necessary on account of the
appearance of the plant, and should be carefully attended
to ; but we can actually get a double crop from some
flowers, the Canterbury bells, for instance, if the blossoms
are cut off when they fade. At the base of each flower-
stem there is a small green bud, which blooms after the
withered blossoms have been removed ; — the colours are
paler, but the plant may be thus kept in flower till Octo-
ber. This pruning, and training, and tying-up of flower-
stems is not our only autumn work ; for ere the damp, cold

108 THE CHEONICLES OF A GARDEN.

days commence there may be a renewal of spring's pleasant
task — sowing seeds; for

" Surely seeds of autumn
In spring-time clothe the ground."

" Select, for tlie purpose of sowing seeds in autumn, (Sep-
tember is the best month,) an open, airy spot, away from
where fallen leaves are likely to gather in heaps by the
wind. The soil should not be dug more than three inches
deep, and the seed should be sown thin ; a deep bed is
likely to encourage the seedlings to grow too fast and
bulky, and so make them more liable to be cut with frost,
and if they are thick in the bed, the one helps to draw up
the other, too weak and spindly. The best thing in the
world to cover seed-beds in the autumn, is one -half
light soil, and one-half finely sifted coal ashes, from which
the very fine dust and the rough cinders are taken. The
red and white Clarkia pulchella are the only two Clark las
w^orth growing, and no winter kills them when self-sown.
Collinsia bicolor and C. grandi^ora are the two best of
that family ; they also are hardy enough to withstand most
winters. The two yellow E sclischoltzias are as hardy as
wheat or barley, and, though not annuals, they do much
better if sown and treated as such, first in September, and,
secondly, about the middle of April ; if they are to be
transplanted, it should be done when they are quite young.
The blue and s})otted Nemopliila insigiiis and maculata
are the best of them, and the whitish one, N. atomaria,
third best. They all pass over almost any winter, and

ALTUMX. 109

come into bloom before April is out. Eucharidium con-
cinnum and a seed-sport of it called grandiflorum, are
among the first gems that ought to be grown in any
garden, and they stand a smart winter ; to say that they
are diminutives of the red or purple Clarkia^ will give
an idea of their size and flowers. Godetia Lindleyana and
ruhicunda are as good as they are gay, and as hardy as a
Scotch crocus. They are the best of a long list of godetias,
and they will be the brighter in flower, and more manage-
able in plant, if they are planted in the very poorest soil
in the kingdom ; but, recollect, if so poor, it must be deep
and well worked. You might call a hard, dry bank poor,
and no annual would get a holding on it, and still it might
be so good as to grow an oak. Stinted growth is quite a
different thing from subdued growth caused by poor, sandy
soil well tilled. . . . Eri/simiun Pirofskianum, a tall yellow
flower, like a turnip -flower, when sown in September,
planted out at the beginning of March, and trained down
to the surface of the bed as it grows, comes into bloom
at the beginning of May, and lasts till midsummer, or
longer, and, so treated, is one of the very finest beds ever
seen in May ; but if allowed to grow its own way, you
might just as w^ell have a bed of seed turnips. . . . Liipinus
nanus, (what a pity that gardeners do not sow large
breadths of this very beautiful dwarf lupin every autumn !)
has quite a difi'erent character when allowed to grow on
slowly all the winter. It would do to plant out in April,
where Lohelia racemoia or any dwarf blue plant, was
too tall late in the season. It blooms from May till the

110 THE CHEONICLES OF A GARDEIS'.

middle or end of August, from seeds sown about the middle
or end of September, provided the plants are not allowed
to ripen any seeds. . . . Silene ijendula, S. compacta, and
S. Schafta, are the best of the catchflies, and are always
best from autumn sowing. The Virginian stock flowers in
April, if sown in autumn, and all the varieties of the
branching larkspur, will bloom most part of the summer,
if sown early in September."* This long extract gives not
only advice for the work to be done at the season of which
we are now writing, but it suggests plans for spring and
summer planting, carrying our minds forward to those
brighter seasons, and so allaying the regret we feel as, week
by week, we see our flowers fading away !—

" Autumnal leaves and flowei'ets ! lingering last —
Pale, sickly children of the waning year !
A lovelier race shall yet succeed ye here,
When nature, (her long wintry torpor past,)
O'er the brown woods and naked earth doth cast
Her vernal mantle."

Another hopeful autumn labour is the planting bulbs for
spring flowering. Early in October this work should be
commenced, for the weather soon begins to get unsettled ;
wet days prevent amateur gardening, and so it is wise to
take the early part of the month for planting crocuses,
snowdrops, scillas, late and early tulips, and, if we like to
risk the winter, ranunculuses and double anemones. These
last are, however, better deferred till February, as a severe
winter kills them, if a wet autumn has set them a-growing,
* Cottage Gardener, vol. viii., p. 355.

AUTUMN. Ill

and tliey have got their leaves above ground. The only
other work that remains is lifting and potting the green-
house plants, cutting down flowering sterns, dividing roots
of herbaceous plants, transplanting shrubs, and the usual
routine occupations of putting beds and borders in winter
order. Stocks and wall-flowers for spring flowering should
be planted out now, and everything about the garden
premises made and kept as tidy as possible. Still, — look
forward hopefully as we will, work cheerily on as we
may, and enjoy as we can and ought the many beauties
that autumn brings — her bright, clear days, the brilliant
colouring of tree and shrub, the rich array of scarlet berries
on rowan, rose, and hawthorn, — still, there is no denying
that, late in autumn, our hearts feel saddened at the decay
and death around us, and most people feel it a season of
pensive retrospect rather than of cheerful looking forward.
Rain and wind do their wild work among trees and flowers,
the walks are littered with damp decaying leaves, and the
last lingering blossoms hang wet and heavy on their stalks,
and Tennyson's mournfidly beautiful lines are realized
vividly as we stroll around our garden, —

" A spirit haunts the year's last hours,
Dwelling amid these yellowing bowers :

To himself he talks.
For at eventide, listening earnestly,
At his work ^'■ou may hear him sob and sigh,

In the walks.
Earthward he boweth the heavy stalks
Of the mouldering flowers ;
Heavily hangs the broad sun-flower

112 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

Over its grave in the earth so chilly;
Heavily hangs the hollyhock,
Heavily hangs the tiger lily."

Amid all the decay and death of this season, few things,
to the ordinary observer, are more repulsive than the rapid
growth of fungi ; on trees, on grass plots and borders, these
evil-reputed things spring up, adding, by their slimy and
poisonous appearance, to the desolate feeling of dreary
autumn days. Yet, see what a poetical charm can be
throw^n around even these by one who, in an earnest study
of God's works, has learned to call nothing " common or
unclean."

" Fungi are intimately associated with autumn ; unrobed
prophets, that see no sad visions themselves, but that bring
to us thoughts of change and decay. Indeed, so close is
this association, that they may be called autumn's peculiar
plants. The blue bell still lingers in the sod, and in the
woods a few bright but evanescent and scentless flowers
appear, but fungi and fruits form the wreath that encircles
the sober and melancholy brow of autumn : fruits, the
death of flower life ; fungi, the resurrection of plant death.
This tribe of plants comes in at a peculiarly seasonable
time, when the more aristocratic members of the vegetable
kingdom have departed, leaving the favourite haunts of the
botanist bare and destitute of interest. Their collection in
the field, and the study of their peculiarities in the closet, will
furnish ample occupation of a most absorbing and fascinat-
ing nature during the whole season.'' ''

* ''Footnotes from the Page of Nature."

AUTUMN. 113

Thus even the damp, dull days of autumn may produce
pleasure in our garden, even in what makes it dreary, and
it is wise to look on the bright side, and to dwell rather
on the changing glories of the season and the clear bright-
ness of its days and moonlight nights, than on the sadder
vein which it naturally suggests : —

■ Nay, William, nay, not so ! the changeful year.
In all its due successions, to my sight
Presents but varied beauties, transient all.
All in their season good. These falling leaves,
That, with their rich variety of hues.
Make yonder forest in the slanting sun
So beautiful, in you awake the thought
Of winter, — cold, drear winter, when the trees
Each like a fleshless skeleton shall stretch
Its bare, brown boughs ; when not a flower shall spread
Its colours to the day, and not a bh'd
Carol its joyaunce ; but all nature wear
One sullen aspect, bleak and desolate,
To eye, ear, feeling, comfortless alike.
To me their many-coloured beauties speak
Of times of merriment and festival,
The year's best holiday : I call to mind
The schoolboy days, when in the falling leaves
I saw, with eager hope, the pleasant sign
Of coming Christmas.

To you the beauties of the autumnal year
Make mournful emblems, and you think of man
Doom'd to the grave's long winter, spirit-broken.
Bending beneath the burden of his years.
Sense dull'd and fretful, ' full of aches and pains,
Yet clinging still to life. To me they shew
The calm decay of nature, when the mind
H

1 1 4 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

Retains its strength, and in the languid eye

Religion's holy hopes kindle a joy,

That makes old age look lovely." — Southey.

It may seem strange that I have brought the pleasures of a
garden on to the end of autumn without reference to either
fruits or vegetables, as if it were thought that what tended
to jjrotit did not also afford pleasure. Practically, this
department of gardening is so generally left to the gardener's
care, the results being all we enjoy, that I have not ven-
tured on so extensive a theme : — the culture of fruit and
vegetables I feel quite beyond my province and my power.

Yet I by no means despise either, and the garden would
lose much of its charm were the ornamental alone allowed
to prevail, and our autumn arrive ungladdened by golden
fruit ; though it is seldom that much benefit is derived
from it here, the neighbourhood of a town exposing the
garden to the frequent amioyance of juvenile depredators.
It is partly from this cause that, for some years, the fruit
crop has ceased to be an object of much interest ; for as
surely as an apple, pear, or plum-tree had been watched
from its spring-time of snowy blossoms to its autumn of
ripened fruit, so surely Avas it found some morning stripped
and bare. So we took more to the smaller fruits — goose-
berries, currants, rasjDberries, and strawberries ; though even
on these, the influence of a neighbouring large town jjre-
vailed, although in a different way. Fruit and vegetables
could be bought at a cheaper rate than they could be
reared ; so why, it was argued, take up space and time with
what can be so easily procured 'i By degrees, therefore,

AUTUMN. 115

flower-beds and grass usurped the room once devoted to
the kitchen garden, the fruit and vegetables were shoved
aside, and the place, half-grudgingly, left for them, is shady
enough to break a gardener's heart. I suspect, however,
that this superseding of our fruits and flowers is felt to be
a mistake, by our young friends especially. What delight
it used to be, in one's own youthful days, to have unre-
strained access to an old-fashioned garden, whose wealth of
gooseberries, currants, and raspberries seemed inexhaustible,
and from whence many a basket of peas, artichokes, or
cauliflower was sent to those "in city pent." True, the
borders contained little beside the damask and cabbage
roses, except sweetwilliams, gardeners'-garters, blue-bottles,
and balm ; but in those days one would not have given a
green-gascon or honey-blob gooseberry-bush, laden with its
sweet fruit, for all the gladioli or verbenas that now^ aftbrd so
much pleasure. That garden, with its broad grass walks,
its holly hedges, its luxuriant crops, is now^ no more ; its
site is covered wdth trim villas, each with its carefully-kept
garden plot, and the owners are, no doubt, happy in this
more circumscribed sphere ; but those who knew the
garden, and its kind owners, may be excused a sigh for the
past, and will wonder whether there can be any such enjoy-
ment to the young within iron rails, and among gravel walks,
and formal borders, as there was once on the same sj^ot,
when we crossed and recrossed the borders at will, and
might climb the old mossy pear-trees, and gather what we
liked, when we liked, and as much as we liked.

So far as even the jjleasures of the garden are concerned,

116 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

I must admit that theory and practice are not at one ; for,
if both can be had, fruit and vegetables are a great addition
to the enjoyment of a garden ; if both cannot be had, then
let each choose for himself to which to give the preference ;
in either case, one is sure of a reward. The mere culture of
plants seems to me to bring its own enjoyment, and the suc-
cessful rearing of flower and fruit admits others to share in
the benefit ; for is it not one of the highest of our garden
pleasures, to have enough to share with those who are de-
barred from such simple luxuries 1 Above all, to have an
offering to send to the sick, — for truly one must have, at
some time or other, lived in a town, or been confined to a
sick-room, so as fully to know the value of fresh flowers,
or fruit, or even of the more homely basket of vegetables.

Amongst the closing pleasures of autumn is to be
numbered the getting our bedded-out plants safely
lifted and secured in the greenhouse for next year's use.
The possession of even a small greenhouse is a source of
great winter enjoyment, and it enables us to keep through
that time most of the more tender, and all the half-hardy
})lants that make the garden gay in summer. Little heat
is necessary for these ; the fire need only be kindled in frost,
or now and then to dry the house, when damp (our great
winter enemy) threatens to kill our favourites. Those who
have not a greenhouse, may manage to keep the plants
alive in frames ; but these need to be attended to, both as
respects covering the glass in frost, and admitting air daily
in fine weather, and, somehow or other, this part of amateur
gardening seems generally apt to he neglected.

AUTUMN. 117

About the end of autumn is a good time for transplant-
ing and dividing plants that have outgrown the proper
dimensions ; rearranging the borders, and carrying out any
alterations that have been planned during summer. It
requires some patience to wait till October or November
for these changes, and, no doubt, it is not so pleasant to
execute them then as it would be in finer weather ; but the
impatience that leads one to do things at a wrong season
generally brings its own punishment : the transplanted
shrubs wither, or get such a check in their growth, that
more time is lost in the end by our indiscreet haste. This
pleasant part of our work may be prolonged during the
fine days of early winter, and to that season we must now
turn.

(^{y/v *

inter.

■ Not undeliglitfvil now to pace
The forest's ample rounds ;
And see the spangled branches shine,
And mark the moss of many a hue,
That varies the old trees' brown bark,
Or o'er the gray stone spreads ;
And see the cluster'd berries bright
Amid the holly's gay green leaves;
The ivj'^ round the leafless oak,
That clasps its foliage close.
So virtue, diffident of strength,
Clings to religion's firmer aid ;
So by religion's aid vipheld
Endures calamity."

SOUTHEY.

w

HEN

" Chill and dun
Falls on the moor the brief November day,"

it does indeed seem as if all the pleasures of the garden
were over ; we turn our thoughts now to indoor work,
indoor enjoyment, and leave our once cherished plots and
haunts to be dealt with as wild winter chooses, casting now
and then a hopeful thought forward to the first snowdrop

122 THE CHRONICLES OF A CxARDEN.

and spring's sweet prime. Still, tliongh we may agree with
Wordswortli, that storm and fog

" Announce a season potent to renew,
'Mid frost and snow, the instinctive joys of song,
And nobler cares than listless summer knew;"

we must be allowed to plead on behalf of our garden that
its pleasures are not by any means all gone ; there is
enjoyment still to be had among the bare branches, and on
its gravel walks and grassy lawns, by those who know where
to look and how to find the kind of enjoyment we speak
of. To those who allege that in this drear season there is
nothing enjoyable in the garden, I would say, in the words
of a writer in a popular scientific periodical — " Have you
thoroughly examined all the nooks and crannies, all the
shadows and depths, all the surface and substrata of the
domain, be it small or great, which you happen to call
your own ? Are you accurately acquainted with the con-
tents of your own garden 1 " In observing and study-
ing the subjects connected with the garden — its ento-
mology, its winter botany, its geology — may be found
those '.' nobler joys " referred to by the poet ; but even if
we have not the desire to carry on such studies, we must
admit that some slight knowledge of these subjects would
give much additional interest to our garden, where we
cannot now linger long, but from whence we may bring in
materials for many an hour's pleasant occupation.

There are some peculiar beauties, too, at this season ;
about the most beautiful of which is the efi'ect of hoar
frost. The tvviirs and branches of shrub and tree are

WINTER. 123

adorned as with diamonds ; but it is among the fallen
leaves that rustle under our feet that the most lovely and
varied efiects of frost's magic fingers must be studied.
What a contrast from yesterday, when a dull fog hung
around, and the damp, dead leaves lay rotting on the
path, noisome things, but to be swept away and perish ! A
clear, bright morning with slight frost lures you out, and
Avhat a change meets the eye ! Every brown leaf is veined
and bordered as with frosted silver, each bearing a dis-
tinct character ; some are only edged, some filigreed all over,
some curled up so curiously, but all beautiful exceedingly.
Not only are the leaves thus transformed, but the broken
tmgs lie among them like silver rods. All look of
desolation is gone from the garden, the bitter breath of
frost has clothed with an unexpected beauty the despised
things of yesterday ; reminding us how often times of trial
and sorrow dra\v forth traits of courage and kindness, un-
suspected and perhaps unfelt till now, beautifying many a
character we thought had little attraction in it before.

Even in midwinter there come sometimes a few mild
days, when the feeling of spring is awakened in our hearts
— days which

" Bring hope with them and forward-looking thoughts."

We walkround the garden looking forthe pointsof snowdrops
and crocuses peeping through the dark earth, and longing
for the time in which w^e will be w^orking among them again.
If there is anything to be done in the way of transplanting
or putting in order, it is as well to take advantage of this

124 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

transient foreshadow of spring, and get it done now. Spite
of the doom of those who " will not plough by reason of the
cold," it must be admitted that there is little amateur
work in the garden in winter; and even the pleasure of
seeing alterations made and improvements planned in
summer now carried out, is much interfered with by the
damp walks, the chilly air, and the discomfort of standing
still while overlooking the work of another. Still, I must
class this watching the progress of work doing as one of
the winter pleasures of the garden, even if it is reduced
to a short visit every morning, just to see what has been
done.

The value of a small greenhouse, or even of a window
filled with plants, is decidedly more felt in winter than at
any other season, not merely from the shelter given to the
plants, but because we are sure of finding something to do
among them daily. No doubt patience and hope are the
chief characteristics of winter-gardening, indoors or out ;
but to those who really like to worh among their flowers,
there may be many opportunities of this pleasure. One
plant even of Tvopceolum tricolor, if started in autumn,
will afi'ord daily amusement in training its quick-growing,
flexible stems over its trellis ; it submits to be turned
about in any way, and as it is apt to make a rapid spring
and get too soon to the top of its support, it requires to
be kept low at first, and its stems may even be turned
down from the top, when they will begin again quite
cheerfully to climb u}) from the lowest place. In order
thus to have some slight garden work in winter, a little

WINTER. 1 25

f orethoiiglit in summer and autumn is necessary ; as, if our
seeds are not sown, and our bulbs not planted, at the
right season, we shall look in vain for this pleasant em-
ployment when the dark days come upon us. Thinking in
time is a most necessary part of gardening work, though
not always easy ; for in the full blow of summer we are apt
t(.) rest satisfied with the present profusion of beauty, and
can scarcely realise the dead, deserted feeling of winter,
and so neglect to make the arrangements we might for
brightening up some of its hours wdtli tending growing
plants. One of my fiivourite winter flowers is the tree
mignonette, both from its sweetness when grown, and the
work it gives in training and tying it up. Many people
lift a plant of this flower in autumn, before it has done
flowering, and pot it, wiien the blossoms linger long, if the
seed-pods are cut off as they form ; but the little trees I
mean are different from this, and yet are so easy of culture
that no one who has even a window to set the pots in
need be without these plants. I got the receipt for making
them in the Cottage Gardener, and have never been with-
out several in the greenhouse since ; they are easily trans-
ferred thence to the drawing-room or to a sick friend's
window, and come into flower before hyacinths and sj^ring
bulbs, though they last in bloom longer than these, if
managed rightly. About the end of April is said to be
the best time for sowing mignonette for this pur^Dose, and
the soil should be a good rich compost, two-thirds mellow
loam and one-third very rotten cow-dung, with a little
sand and a few^ bits of mortar the size of peas. For those

1l\) TMK OHKOMOl.KS OF A UAUPKN.

who cannot got thi$ oonipoiit, and yot may wish to try this
branch of window-gardening, it may bo said tliat the phints
will grow in ooninion garden soil, though of conrso they
will not be so luxuriant.

'* Take as many o-inch pots as you want plants, drain
them with pieces of mortar, and put over that a little of the
nnighest of your compost ; till up nearly level with the to})
of the pot, and place three seeds in the very middle of
each pot, and nine or ten seeds all over the surface : if you
just cover them with earth it is enough, and press them
down very tight. Water them, and put them in the win-
dow, and if the seeds are good they will be up in ten
days. The moment you see them, give thoni abundance of
air, — no forcing, recollect, for the more haste, the less speed
with them. AVhen the day is at all tine, put them outside
the window, from ten to three in the afternoon. They
will not stand much water : a gentle shower Avitli a rose
would suit them very well, and the best time to give it
them is in the morning, when you turn them outside, as
they will have time to drain and dry properly before you
take them in for the night. If the three seeds in the
centre come up, it is a sign of success, and the weakest of
the three must be pulled out as soon as you can get hold
of it, — the rest will also be thinned one-half."' The direc-
tions then state that you must choose the strongest and
most promising plant, when all have grown up a little, and
pulling up the others, place a neat small stick beside it,
the stick to be about a foot long, and pushed down to the
bottom of the pot. When the j^lant is about two inches

WINTKR. 127

long you must tie it loosely to this stick, and continue
tying it as it grows till it gets to the top, when you may
give it a taller stick, if you wish a high plant. Whenever
side branches spring out from the stem of the tree, ni[)
them off at the second joint, thus leaving the stem with
some leaves upon it to assist its growth ; " it should
look," Mr Beaton says, " as feathery as the logs of a ban-
tam fowl." About midsummer shift the plants into .Vincli
pots, and, if they have done well, they may need another
shift at the end of July ; after that it is recommended to
let them alone. During all this time no flowers are to be
allowed to form ; nip them off as fast as they appear, and
allow none to blow till the middle of October, when they
will flower all winter. A later sowing may be made for
spring flowering, say in June, and the tying-up and nip-
ping-off of these will be winter work ; for all the forego-
ing directions are certaiidy to be followed in summer,
and might have been alluded to in writing of that season.
Chrysanthemums are also winter favourites. They too
need summer's forethought and culture, but they grow and
flower in winter, and there is something very refreshing in
the aromatic smell of these flowers in a season when sweet
scents are only thoughts of the past. The various perfumes
of flowers are as characteristic as their colours, — some are
sweet and faint, suggestive of calm summer evenings ;
others rich and luscious, recalling summer's sunlight ;
others are fresh and invigorating, like morning air ; while
others again, like the chrysanthemum, seem to have some-
thing hardy and bracing in their fragrance, as if whiter

128

THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

needed some such strengthening influence, instead of the
more enervating sweets of summer.

In window-gardening we must bear in mind that our
plants require as much care as we do ourselves in the
matter of temperature, fresh air, and light ; and this is one
reason why they seldom succeed -well in sitting-rooms.
The windows are opened only in the early morning, ad-
mitting frosty or damp air ; these are kept closed during
the day, and the dust from the fire, and the heat of the gas
at night, alike injure the plants. If kept indoors, they
will thrive better in a room where the windows can be
opened for an hour or two during the finest part of the
day, where gas is not burned for several hours every night,
and where the temperature is kept at a uniform height.
When there is a greenhouse, from which plants in bloom
can be brought into the sitting-rooms, care should be taken
not to keep them there above a day or two, for, in general,
the blossoms drop off", the leaves grow yellow, and the
whole plant suffers from the effects of the gas and the
dryness of the air. I have heard that if the plants are
removed every evening to a room where gas is not lighted,
they succeed much better and last longer; but this is a
trouble few people care to take, and so the shorter time we
keep flowering plants indoors the better.

A greenhouse might be made much more gay than it
usually is in winter by a little forethought and care in
autumn, so as to have common animals and small shrubby
plants potted in September ; many of these would flower
in December and January, and might be brought indoors

WINTER. 1:^1)

occasionally to brighten up our rooms. Sow in June and
July seeds of Clarkia pulchella, Nemophila insignis and
maculata, Coreopsis tinctoria, and others, — sow either in
pots or on a piece of ground, to be afterwards transferred
to pots. These may be " grown either singly or in clumps,
trained by placing twigs in the pots, through which the
tiny branches may ramble, or arranging small stakes round
the side of the pot and bracing them together with a
thread, and removing them into the house before touched
with frost in November." These will blow during the
winter ; and being common things, and so probably de-
spised by the gardener, we may have the pleasure of tend-
ing them and bringing them indoors when we please.
Besides these annuals, we might have in flower, during the
winter months, pots of double daisies, heartsease, double
primroses, and wallflowers ; while in early spring, plants of
Deutzchia gracilis, Dielytra spectabilis, and tree violets,
would bring us round to the time when our outdoor
enjoyment and work would recommence.

The difliculty is, as we said above, to recollect at the
right season to prepare for winter. It would be a good
plan to keep a book in which to mark down, under the
heading of the diff'erent months, what we wished to do in
each, so as to be reminded when the time came. There
are, of course, such monthly calendars in all garden-books
and in most almanacs, and most useful these often are ;
but a private calendar of this kind would suit each one
better, as it would contain only what we happened to wish
to recollect. Along with the notice of the work to be

130 THE CHRONICLES OF A GAEDEN.

done, might be inserted a reference to the vokime and page
M'here the culture of the plant was detailed, which could then
be studied anew, if requisite ; the progressive work to be in-
serted under the month in which it was to be done. Thus,
for instance, under June should be inserted the sowing of an-
nuals for winter-flowering ; in September, we would observe
that these should be looked after, thinned out, and placed
in a sunny situation ; and in November, we would be re-
minded to bring theni indoors, or into the greenhouse.

Unless an amateur gardener makes some such personal
calendar of work, the things to be done are generally for-
gotten at the right time ; and even where there is occa-
sional help from a gardener, such a calendar is useful, as
the general rules by which a jobbing gardener is guided
cannot apply to every garden, at least, if the proprietors
have any love for the garden and its work. I remember
the amusing dismay of an old man upon being informed
that he need not sow spinach between the rows of peas,
as not one of the family ate spinach, and so no seed had
been got from the seedsman : " it was always sown," he
pled; " he had never seen peas sown without it; everybody
had spinage in their garden ;" and when he found us inexor-
able, he went grumbling away, evidently believing that the
crop of peas that year would be a failure, because he had
no spinach between the rows ! If you merely wish to be
reminded of the ronthie culture, and require also to see
that it is d(jne, the calendar in the almanac may do ; but
for private use, make a calendar of 3-our own, and don't
foiijet to read it now and then.

WINTER. 131

In winter, too, summer plans may be laid ; beds may be
arranged as to what plants are to go into each ; schemes
and alterations written out, and many a fine morning's
saunter among the empty borders and beds may be made
pleasant by such " forward-looking thoughts,"

Indoors gardening, or window gardening as it is gene-
rally called, will, however, be the chief resource of lovers
of flowers during the dull dead months of winter. Hya-
cinths, Van Thol tulips, scillas, narcissus, polyanthus, cro-
cuses, and snowdrops, may all be cultivated in the sitting-
rooms, if care is taken to keep them moist by means of
moss laid on the pots, or around them, so as to lessen the
evaporation caused by the dry air. Snowdrops and crocuses
dislike being forced ; they are not easily got to flower out
of season ; but a few pots of them kept cool, and allowed
plenty of air, will be cheerful looking indoors, even when
their brethren are flowering without, for the weather then
is frequently wet and stormy. Much disappointment is
often experienced in buying plants in flower, or about to
flower, from a nurseryman, from the change to a warm,
dry room, causing them to fade rapidly ; they should be
inured to the change by degrees ; if brought from a cool
greenhouse, they may be kept for a day or two in a cool,
not cold, room, the pots covered with moss, or plunged
into it in a basket, and when established in the warm room,
they should be kept moist by sponging the leaves occasion-
ally vat\\ tepid water. All watering should be done early
in the day, and the water should never be given quite
cold, as the chill checks the roots. After all, it must be

132 THE CHEONICLES OF A GARDEN.

admitted that window -gardening is chiefly valuable for
dwellers in towns or for invalids ; and though no doubt
these derive both pleasure and benefit from the culture and
possession of flowers, it must ever be a less varied enjoy-
ment than the garden is capable of yielding.

If I have succeeded at all, in these simple " Chronicles of
a Garden," in aw^akening any one to a sense of how much
l)leasure is to be found at all seasons in a garden, however
small, I shall feel glad indeed to have been the means of
thus shewing that "the lines are fallen to us in pleasant
places," and of making the reader enter into the feelings
with which Wordsworth thus beautifully moralises on our
common pleasures : —

" Ob, bounty witbout measure ! while tbe grace
Of Heaven dotb in such wise from bumblest springs
Pour pleasure fortb, and solaces that trace
A mazy course along familiar tilings,
Well may our bearts have faitb tbat blessings come
.Streaming from founts above tbe starry sky
Witb angels, vvben tbeir own untroubled borne
Tbey leave, and speed on nigbtly embassy
To visit eartbly chambers — and for wbom ?
Yea, both for souls wbo God's forbearance try.
And those that seek His help and for His mercy sigb."

$M Itts

" Birds and beasts.
And the mute fish that glances in the stream,
•And harmless reptile coiling in the sun,
And joyous insect hovering in the air.
The fowl domestic and the household dog,
In his capacious mind, he loved them all."

WOP.DSWOKTH.

' I bless Thee, Father, that where'er I go
A brotherhood of blessed creatures goes
With me, and biddeth me God speed. For all
Thy mute and innocent creatures take my thanks ;
To me they are child brethren without speech
Or sin."

St Francis D'Assisr.

The Three Wakcnincjs.

The scented birk and hawtliorn white
Across the pool their arras unite,
Alike to screen the birdie's nest."

Burns.

THE pleasure of our garden would be very incomplete
indeed without its living inhabitants ; whether these
include merely the free, but not unknown, birds of the air

13(1 thp: chronicles of a garden.

or take in also those more cherished companions, generally
known by the term of " pets." No doubt, in a small place,
the latter are sometimes voted 'plagues, and it is often
pretty evident that our friends so esteem them ; so it can
only be f^-om the real genuine lover of " pet animals " that
I can hope for any sympathy, when I truly and deliberately
class " our pets '^ among " our pleasures."

Every one likes birds. I should be sorry to meet any
one who did not ; but it is not very common to find
those who have the faculty of making frienchliips among
their feathered favourites : for, in general, people seem
to value birds more for their song than for aught else,
and many, too many, value their fruit more than the
songsters, and allow a yearly destruction of these crea-
tures to take place, which is distressing indeed to all
lovers nnd friends of the feathered tribes. It is curious to
observe how soon birds discover the places where they will
not be molested, and how soon many of them shew the
confidence they feel in our protection, by building near us,
by remaining on the nest even when looked at, and by
bringing their young ones, when flown, to our feet to be
fed. The blackbird and chaffinch are especially familiar
in this way. I have known more than one instance of a
blackbird building her nest within reach of the hand, in
the roses which covered the porch, or in the ivy close to
the window; and, indeed, on one occasion so satisfied was the
fuotlier bird with her public position in the little [)orch, that
after her first family liad flown, she settled herself again in
the yame nest and brought out a second brood, undisturljed

OUR PETS. 137

by the constant passing and rej assing of all, and the fre-
quent pointing her out to friends. This last action, how-
ever, I must protest against ; the less a nest when known
is looked at the better ; if it can be seen from a little dis-
tance, or by a glance in passing, a quiet look now and
then will do no harm ; but all putting aside the branches,
or touching the nest, must be carefully avoided. It was
the saying of one who knew well the habits and loved the
acquaintanceship of his birds, that " a nest, like a secret,
should be known only to one person." So, if you wish to
have your pets confiding and secure, don't shew your nests,
don't allow any hunting for them to go on, and never
allow any one to touch the eggs. There is not only the
risk of making the bird forsake if you do, but there is
also the danger of letting the nest be seen by the magpies.
These cunning egg-fanciers are ever on the alert, and seem
to guess that a nest is concealed in any bush to which
frequent visits are paid, and the branches thereby displaced.
When the birds are hatched, there is not the same likeli-
hood that your looking at the nest will cause the parent
bird to leave them ; but let no hand be put into it, for it
frequently happens that the young birds spring out of the
nest when thns frightened, before they are fully fledged,
and thus fall a prey to cats, or die of cold. When I see
the reckless way a discovered nest is too often treated —
shewn to every one — boys allowed to count the eggs —
children lifted up to peep into it, holdhig back the branches
all the time, I wonder not at the disappearance and the
wildness of the small birds in that place. How differently

138 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

have I seen birds and their nests guarded by one who
h~>ved them well. I remember a favourite garden walk
being given up one spring, because a pair of wood-pigeons
had built in a large sycamore near the middle of the path ;
and another summer, the front door was left open all
day, because a pair of swallows had built their nest, so
that the bell- wire ran through it, and no one could ring
the bell without disturbing them. The swallows never
returned ; but the wood-pigeons came back year after year,
and both the old birds and their young ones became so
tame that we no longer needed to avoid passing under their
tree, but used to see them pacing about the garden almost
like tame pigeons. The chaffinch seems more inclined to
form what may be called a personal friendship for some
one individual in its free state than even the redbreast ;
the latter, especially in autumn, is familiar with almost any
one, but the chaffinch is not, and those I have known that
thus singled out, as it were, one friend, would not come at
the call of any one else. What a little tyrant to his gentle
master was one that I recall, flying to meet him no doubt
whenever he appeared in the garden, but scolding in a
loud shrill key if crumbs of bread were not immediately
forthcoming ; and after his young ones were hatched, it
was alleged that " Shilfa " preferred bread and milk to dry
crumbs, and most certainly he often scolded on, refusing
the bread, till the moistened crumbs were brought, when
he would fill his beak and be off to his ga2)ing family.
For several summers I have known these birds, (I know not
if the same individuals,) establish thus a right to have

OUE PETS. 139

tlieir children provided for ; and we always knew when
the eggs were hatched, by the constant and vehement de-
mands of the cock chaffinch at the open window or in the
garden, for a supply of food for them. The hen chaffinch
is quieter and less familiar, though she sometimes sits on
a branch and scolds for food ; but her mate is a reguLar
beggar, and I am sure, like all such, his morals became
corrupted, and he disliked the trouble of working for his
family, and so brought them up on spoon meat, instead of
hunting for flies and caterpillars for them ! The chaffinch
is rather a pugnacious bird in spring, and, like the robin,
he keeps his own heat, and drives off others who come to
be fed ; and both he and the blackbird bring their young
ones to be fed after they leave the nest, thus seeking, as it
were, to make the friendship hereditary. The young robins,
on the contrary, make their own friends ; and certainly few
birds are more attractive than a little speckled-breasted
robin, who comes half shyly towards you from among the
gooseberry bushes ; and, growing more bold by degrees,
follows you about, perching on the edge of the wheel-
barrow, and seeming as if he thus attached himself to you
more for the pleasure of yowv society and the su|)erin-
ttnding of your work, than from any desire to be fed ; but
woe betide, nevertheless, any luckless insect, however small,
that is turned up by the spade — robin is down upon it in
an instant, his bright keen ej^e detecting his prey where
you can see nothing. I have heard people ask where all
the robins go in summer, for they never see them but in
winter : they certainly get shyer in spring ; but w^e have

140 THE CHEONICLES OF A GARDEN.

had robins frequently who continued known to us after
the breeding season commenced, the cock taking crumbs
under the bushes, with which he fed the hen, she being
much more timid. It was the oj^inion of the Late James
Wilson that the female robins migrate in winter ; in the
article Ornithology, in the " Encyclopaedia Britannica," he
says : — " We have a notion that in Scotland the female red-
breast is migratory. At least, in the vicinity of Edinburgh,
we recognise her not throughout the winter. All the in-
dividuals then about our gardens sing aiidjight, till, in the
month of March, some strangers shew themselves, but do
not sing, and are immediately followed and fed by the
resident males, at which time they (the supposed females)
utter a low hissing note, and flutter their wings like young-
dependent birds. This we have often seen and vouch
for."

The first arrival of the birds of passage is always a
welcome event to those who like to watch the habits of
those feathered favourites ; not merely the swallows, (they
are not garden birds,) but the willow-wren, the blackcap,
the fly-catcher, and redstart, all of whom build in gardens
and shrul)bery, even when near the house. The two first-
named of these birds make their appearance, year after
year, almost on the same day, the willow- wren on or about
the 28tli April, the blackcap on the 2d or 3d of May,
after which time, the clieerful song of the one, and the
rich, sweet warble of the other, is to be heard all day
long, the blackcap singing till late in the evening.

The increase of building round here is, however, gradually

OUR PETS. 141

drawing away our once regular summer visitants ; the
blackcap and redstart are more rarely seen and heard in
the garden, and the larks have been long gone from the
fields around. The fly-catcher, though not valued for his
song, is always welcome from his fearless ways ; he will
perch close beside you on a paling or pole, darting off after
flies and returning to his perch incessantly ; and wdien these
birds have a nest, they are very bold in its defence. A
l^air who built in the ivy at the side of the house, upon
one occasion when a tame jackdaw was carried past their
nest on the hand of its mistress, darted down and struck
at the bird w4th loud, angry cries. In the autumn the
long-tailed titmouse and the beautiful little gold-crested
wren used occasionally to visit us, but the suburban
character now prevailing in what used to be a rural
neighbourhood, will, no doubt, deter these rarer birds from
even a casual visit. It is curious to observe how even
small changes, within a limited space, affect the habits of
the more common birds. Some years ago, green linnets
were so abundant in the garden that their nests were to be
found in every bush and hedge. By degrees, hedges and
bushes were removed from the immediate neighbourhood
of the house, so as to obtain more air and space, and for
years after, hardly a green linnet was to be seen, and their
nests were never to be found. Indeed, there is no doubt
that the clearing out thickets, and allowing shrubs to grow
freely, though essential to the neatness and order of a small
place, is an operation by no means favourable to the build-
ino- of nests and the secure inhabitation of small birds. If

142 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

ever tempted to wish for a larger space than two acres for
enjoyment, it is when one feels that in such a small place
there can be no neglected quiet corner, or tangled over-
grown clumps of shrubs, where our shy pets might safely
nestle and sleep in security.

As to "pets/' properly so called, it would require a
volume to describe those that have been reared, trained,
tamed, and fed within the precincts of our small abode.
The mere list would appal most j^eople : at different times
we have had a succession of dogs, an ichneumon, a coati-
mondi, monkeys, rabbits, guinea-pigs, mice, squirrels,
hedgehogs, and, occasionally, cats and kittens. In the
ornithological department, we have had eagles, hawks, owls,
cormorants, seagulls of all kinds, silver-j^heasants, grouse,
quails, ravens, rooks, magpies, and jackdaws ; starlings,
jays, a cockatoo, parrots, parroquets, pigeons, bantams, and
small cage-birds of almost every kind. The chief pecu-
liarity about our pets was their tameness, and agreeing in
general most wonderfully with one another. The excep-
tions to this rule have been the cats, who cannot be trusted
with birds or mice ; and English terriers, who chase and
torment the other animals, though our other dogs have not
only been easily taught to live in peace with all the rest,
but have frequently made friendships with some of them.
The great secret of training and attaching animals, seems
to be kindness and quietness, and a certain sort of friendly
intercourse with them, M'hich, perhaps, is only understood
by those to the manner born. All teazing them, even in
fun, should be avoided, if you wish them to trust you and

OUR PETS. 143

be gentle. There are individual exceptions in every species,
but there are few, either among quadrupeds or birds, that
will not soon get attached to the person who feeds them ;
bat they are frequently far more strongly attached to the
individual who understands them, and keeps up a quiet
friendly intercourse with them. Unless this sort of " rap-
port " is established between us and our pets, they are (to
my mind) hardly worthy of the name ; they degenerate into
" captive animals," and can neither give pleasure to others,
nor be made happy themselves.

The surest way of having cage birds tame, is to rear
them from the nest ; but, in most cases, this is troublesome,
and it is painful to see the little things droop and die after
a few days of their strange training. I have, however,
brought up many a one, feeding them chiefly on oatmeal
and water : green linnets and chaffinches used always to
thrive, the only care being to keep them Avarm, and feed
them frequently, giving very little at a time, and beginning
to feed early in the morning. One sunmier I was very
desirous to rear the common wren from the nest, but I
never could keep the young ones alive after the third
morning, though they fed readily, and were easily kept
warm in a flannel bag lined ydih feathers. I tried dif-
ferent kinds of food, once giving nothing but small green
caterpillars, but the result was always the same — the eye
lost its round shape, and death followed. I tried the ex-
periment four times, and I remember being very sanguine
about the last birds I tried. They were just ready to fly
when I took them out of the nest, and lived for four days,

144 THE CHEONICLES OF A GAEDEN.

flying after me whenever I opened the basket I kept them
in, and perching one above another on my spread-out
fingers, like little brown humble-bees. The evening they
died they were very tame and vigorous ; some one having
opened the basket without closing the window, my little
pets all flew out, and were hopping about a rose-bush, but
at the sight of the well-known cup that held their food, the
whole quartett flew back to my hand, and were fed and
secured for the night. Two died in a few hours, and the
others were found dead at three in the morning. I have
never attempted to rear wrens since, for it seemed just
wanton cruelty. The only soft-billed bird I ever reared
was a hedge-sparrow, which was left in the nest after the
others had flown from a curious accident. The nest was in
a hawthorn hedge, and the bird had got its head transfixed
by thorn, so that it could not move. It was discovered in
this predicament, and the branch being cut off, the bird
was brought indoors to have the thorn taken out. It did
not seem to annoy him, for he gaped for food all the time
the operation was going on, so it was resolved to keep him
and bring him up for a cage. He lived some years, sang
cheerily and sweetly through many a winter day, and was
a pleasant little pet, though never so familiarly tame as our
chaffinches and green linnets. A wheat-ear was another
successful attempt, at least it lived till the middle of the
winter ; it was very tame and amusing in its ways ; when let
out of its cage, it used to run about the floor, or flit from
chair to chair, uttering its peculiar cry, so suggestive of
wild moorland and gray crag. This rearing from the nest

OUR PETS. 14.)

requires, however, that the birds should be allowed occa-
sionally the freedom of flying about the room, if we wish
to keep them tame and companionable, and it is curious to
see how impatient they will get if the usual time for letting
them out is passed by, and how contented they are to re-
turn to the cage after the indulgence of a bath and a flight.

A lark, reared from the nest, was most resolute in thus
urging his claims to get out during breakfast. His bath
consisted of a saucer of sand, in Avhich he rolled with great
satisfaction, after which he w^ould lie down on a sunny
spot and bask on the carpet. It so happened that the
only part of the room where the morning sun shone, was
generally appropriated by a poodle dog; but " larky" alw^ays
insisted on room being made for him, and would peck at
the dog's feet, and torment him till he rose or moved, so
as to leave sufficient space for lying down beside him.

In another rather inconvenient way he shew^ed his lik-
ing for a cozy perch ; for, unless watched, he would fly on
to the table and crouch dow^n on the hot rolls, giving a
little angry scream and pecking at the hand that dislodged
him.

The friendships formed between the animals themselves
are very curious, and cannot always be accounted for by
the usual reason given, — namely, that of solitude. A very
tame bantam cock w^as one of the most friendly birds in
this way I ever knew. He had been brought up by some
cottage children from his chicken-hood, and never seemed
happier or more contented than w^hen lying on any one's
lap or carried about, sometimes wrapped in a shawl.

146 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

by his young owners. He always shewed a marked pre-
ference for human society, making unceasing efforts all the
fifteen years we had him, to be considered an in-door pet,
coming into the house at every opportunity, and walking
upstairs, or into any of the sitting-rooms. For a whole
winter he resolutely attempted to settle for the night on
the top of a bookcase in the library, and when removed,
day after day, he would not remain in either stable or shed,
but came back to the house, and slept on the window-sill.
At last, to our surprise, " Jupiter," as he was called, for-
sook the accustomed roosting-place, and it was discovered
that during the day, a stray pigeon, not belonging to the
place, had formed a friendship with the cock, and the two
walked about the garden and fed together. If at any time
the pigeon flew up to the roof of the house, the distress
of the bantam was great, and his cries for his companion
to come down were incessant, and generally proved success-
ful. At first the pigeon flew away at night, but after a
while it betook itself to an open, unused stable, and from
that time the bantam deserted the window and slept be-
side the pigeon in the stable. I forget what became of the
pigeon, but Jupiter's next friend was a little green paroquet,
whose cage used to be })ut out in the porch every morning.
He used to watch for it, and run to meet it, and the paro-
quet would put down its head to be caressed by him, and
the two friends would sit as close together us the cage
would permit, billing and cooing like doves. His last
friendship was more extraordinary, for it was with an
animal rather more addicted to make a meal than a pet of

OUR PETS. 147

any poultry lie could lay hold of, — the coatimondi. He
was generally kept fastened by a long chain to a kennel,
and though as affectionate and gentle as a dog to those he
knew, yet he would allow no strange dog to come near him,
and used to spring at small birds when they came within
reach. However, the bantam became recognised, as the
dog had previously been, as a companion, and they fed to-
gether, and there never seemed the smallest disagreement
between them. Frequently, however, one finds among
animals a preference for human society to that of their own
kind. This is shewn, not merely by dogs, in whom we
almost expect to find this friendship, but by birds, espe-
cially those brought up from the nest. They seem restless
and unhappy when left alone, or only with other animals,
and shew a marked satisfaction at the return of any one
they are attached to, as well as a desire to attract attention
and get a kind word or caress. There is a diff'erence in
this respect between not only the different species of
animals, but also between the individuals of the same
species : some are more confiding and affectionate naturally
than others, as all pet lovers, from Cowper and his hares
downwards, can testify. Among birds, the raven, jackdaw,
some pigeons, the bullfinch, siskin, green-linnet, and chaf-
finch are remarkable for this personal attachment. I
believe I should say some ravens only, for individuality of
character is strongly marked in this bird, and there is
always a kind of independence about any I have known,
that tends to keep them from the somewhat pertinacious
style of aftection shewn by the jackdaw. Indeed you are

148 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

never quite sure whether it is you who are bestowing
attention and notice upon the raven, or the raven Avho is
bestowing it . upon you ! We have had three ravens at
different times, who were allowed to live in freedom, and it
was curious to see how distinctly these birds knew their
own premises, rarely wandering even into the next garden,
and how soon each bird learned to know the sound of
opening the dining-room window as a signal for being fed.
One lived thus for many years, his wings uncut, and per-
fectly able to fly away if so inclined ; he used sometimes to
amuse himself by taking a flight, and would soar above
the garden in company with the rooks passing by; but
whenever a fear entered our minds that he might goo too
far off, we had but to ring the dinner bell, the sound of
which invariably brought him to the front of the house to
be fed. His sense of time was correct, and his punctuality
exemplary ; both at the breakfast and dinner hour, he was
sure to be seen stalking about before the windows, and not
seldom was the old raven supplied before either the guests
or the family. For several years this bird built a nest
every spring, at first in a holly tree, and afterwards in a
large cage in the garden where he slept, and the door of
which stood always open. While engaged in this work, he
or she was certainly a troublesome inmate of a garden, for,
not satisfied with gathering all the stray pieces of stick, he
would pull up every tally and rod he could find, dragging
sometimes large dahlia-poles to his cage, though utterly
useless for his purposes. I used to look upon a raven's nest
as a sure resource all summer if I required either a tally or

OUR PETS. 149

a supply of sticks to tie up plauts to, tbougli I did not
dare to meddle with it if tlie builder was present. When
the nest was finished and lined with hay, he used to fly to
it whenever any food was given to him, never eating it, as
at other times, — he had evidently some instinctive feeling
that there were young ones depending on him. He had a
very curious penchant for black cats : if a stray individual
of that colour made its appearance in the garden, the raven
used to follow it about, sit close to it if it lay under a
bush, perch as near as he could get when it was concealed
among the pea-sticks, and even allow it to come into his
cage, and, on more than one occasion, to sleep in his nest.
The cats, for he had more than one feline friend, were
attracted to his house, no doubt, by the supplies of provi-
sions he used to conceal there, as is the habit of this bird ;
but what his fancy for them was, we never understood,
unless misled by their colour, (his friends were invariably
black,) he had some idea they were four-footed ravens. Poor
bird, his fancy for black animals caused his death at last ;
for he could not be prevented from attempting a familiar
intimacy with a black English terrier. Once it seized him
and nearly worried him to death ; but, undeterred by this,
and by frequent attempts to chase him, he continued to
come close to the dog, fluttering his wings, and croaking in
a murmuring voice, until in a luckless hour, when the
family were from home, the dog seized him, and, ere he
could be rescued, gave him a death-gripe.

Jackdaws brought up from the nest are among the most
amushig and attractive pets about a garden; they shew

150 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

mucli more personal attachment tlian the magpie, and are
much less tricky and mischievous out-of-doors ; but they
have a great desire to belong to the family-circle, and it
is scarcely possible to keep them out, when they are de-
termined to be in, and once admitted, their meddlesome
curiosity, though amusing, is apt to become troublesome.
These birds have a good deal of character, which is always
interesting ; they will walk about and amuse themselves
among the shrubs for hours at a time, when one wing is
cut, but always seem, even then, on the watch for a human
companion : for they certainly have a dog-like tendency to
associate with any one they are attached to, recognising
the individual they prefer, and allowing themselves to be
handled and even stroked by that one, while they will
snap at any other hand held out. More than once we have
had jackdaws so resolutely bent on being house-pets that
keeping the lower windows closed was of little avail ; they
would get in at any open window, and then make their
way upstairs or downstairs, as the case might be, to the
sitting-room, where they would announce their arrival by
cawing till the door was opened and they were admitted
to the room. Their thievish propensities are wtII known ;
and one great attraction of the sitting-rooms is no doubt
the variety of small articles lying about, with which they
will (if permitted) fly out of the window. I remember
once, when absent from home, residing in lodgings in a
country town, being puzzled by the disappearance of a
comb from the dressing-table, which stood in the window ;
the comb was found on the pavement below the window.

OUR PETS. 151

but next day it was found on the window-sill, and the
articles on the table were all out of their places, and
yet no one had been in the room. The mystery was ex-
plained in a day or two, when, coming home from a
walk, I went upstairs and found a jackdaw on the table
pulling with all his might at a large brush, which he had
dragged nearly to the window, when my entrance disturbed
him, and he flew off, and I heard afterwards that he
was a notorious character in the place, though his young
master declared this was the first time he had ever been
convicted of entering a house with intent to steal. The
worst of having any of this tribe domesticated in the gar-
den is, their tendency to seek out nests and eat the eggs :
the jackdaw is not so bad in this way as the magpie ;
nevertheless, w^e gave up keeping these birds from tlieir
inveterate tendency to destroy the nests of the blackbird
and thrush. Still somehow or other, Jacky contrived to
look innocent on these occasions, and we were always
willing to lay the blame on the wild magpies, and let our
saucy favourite escape.

The tendency, or faculty, of becoming personally attached
to one individual is possessed largely by the parrot tribe,
from the large snowy cockatoo down to the brilliant little
paroquet. The former bird, from its gentleness and sagacity,
is very attractive — much more so than the macaAV, which,
to my mind, is both ugly and disagreeable, Ms noisy
screams for notice are so obtrusive, very different from
the quiet coaxing manners of the cockatoo. Not but what
he can make noise enough, too, when he likes : one that

152 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

we had for twenty-four years could make liis voice heard a
distance of two miles off. On a calm summer evening I
have heard his harsh cry at that distance, and knew that
he was desirous of being taken indoors. His power of
mimicry is certainly curious ; and though we have no reason
to believe that any of that tribe attach any meaning to the
words they learn to utter, yet they have certainly some
association of ideas with words, which almost looks as if
they did so. For instance, in general, when Cockatoo heard
any one's name called, he would sometimes repeat the sound,
but frequently he would call out " Whaf?" this being almost
always done if the kitchen door was suddenly opened and
one of the servants called for, shewing that he had observed
this answer given there, and connected it with the name being
called out. I have not had sufficient variety of experience
to determine whether this faculty of imitating and acquir-
ing words varies in different individuals of the same
species — whether some have the " gift of the gab " more
than others, or whether it is a question of training and
education. I incline to the former theory; for I have
seen cockatoos who seldom sj^oke, and scarcely ever of
their own accord added either Avords or sounds to their
vocabulary ; whereas the one we had seemed to vary his
conversation perpetually, having few set pln^ases, but
whistling, singing, or repeating words, according as he
heard those around him doing. On the contrary, one
paroquet we had, though a most affectionate familiar bird,
"never uttered a word,, or sliewcd any disposition to imitate
sounds, while anotlier of the same species used to talk

OUR PETS. lo3

incessantly. I have observed the same difference in parrots,
and, what is more uncommon, in other birds. The various
ravens we have had certainly possessed this imitative
feculty in different degrees ; some taking pleasure in bark-
ing when they heard the dog do so, or in quacking like a
duck, while the others remained satisfied with their original
gifts, varied as these are. Some canaries have a power of
imitating the song of other birds kept in the same cage,
while others keep true to their native notes : the siskin
readily acquires some notes from the canary ; but though
the bullfinch can be taught to whistle tunes, and seems to
prefer those thus acquired to its own song, I have never
knowii one who imitated the song of his fellow-captives.
I remember a tame sparrow who used to make desperate
efforts to sing like a canary ; fiiiling in this, he would rush
at the cage and endeavour to pull off the feathers of the
rival songsters — an endeavour in which he was much more
successful than in his attempts at melody.

It is a question whether much can be learned from the
habits of animals in captivity that might lead us to decide
upon their native instincts, for these certainly become
curiously modified and even altered by domestication, and
this tendency to assimilate themselves to the ways of
human beings. The knowledge of time possessed not only
by dogs, but by other animals, is one of these acquired
instincts, if we may use such a term ; and it is no little
credit to the punctuality of a family when the feathered
and four-footed dependants calculate accurately both their
feeding time and that of the return of any daily absent

154 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN,

member of tlie family, and make their appearance at the
proper time.

Among the less generally tamed animals^ however, the
natural habits are observable, and sometimes are curious
and unaccountable. A coatimondi we had for many years
had an extraordinary predilection for rubbing any strong
perfume on its tail ; if a bunch of tansy or fever-few were
given to him, he would seize it eagerly in his forepaws,
and, seatino; himself so as to bring his tail into a convenient

JO ~

position, he would then crush and rub the plant all over
his tail, sniffing and sneezing with evident relish all the
time. Lavender water, or any perfume poured on a piece
of paper, was instantly applied in the same way ; and one
of the few occasions on which he was known to bite, was
when a lady, whose reticule he had snatched from her hand,
and out of which he had torn her scented handkerchief
for this ludicrous purpose, attempted to take it from him,
an interference with his toilet which he resented accordingly.
There was one other thing also which irritated him : if any
one made a chirping noise, he instantly darted at the per-
son, snapping and biting ; as gentle and fond of being
caressed as a dog, this sound invariably provoked him, and
strangers had to be warned on going near him, not to use
this method of attracting his attention. His "passive
resistance" was worthy of a quaker; on all occasions of
leading him off to the stable, after having been indulged
with a visit to the house, or a seat at the fireside, when he
felt the pull at the chain fastened to his collar, he first
resisted, then laid hold of the chain with his forepaws, but

OUR PETS. 155

when he found all his efforts unavailing, he lay clown on
his back as if dead, and allowed himself to be thus dragged
unresistingly out of the house and down the avenue. When
within a few yards of his kennel, however, he used to start
up and run, as if for his life, till he got into it. He never
attempted to bite on these occasions; however unwilling to
be led off, he might be lifted and carried with perfect im-
punity; all he did was to manifest his repugnance to the
change of quarters in this " anti-annuity tax " fashion of pas-
sive resistance. May this not have been a modification of
the instinct that makes many animals sham death when in
danger ?

We have more than once had monkeys as pets ; but,
amusing as they are, they have more caprice of temper,
and are less docile than many other animals that do not
look so companionable. I think they sometimes get credit
for more sagacity than they deserve, from the absurd
gravity with which they perform their antics, and from
the resemblance of their movements to those of human
beings ; the manner of using their hands especially has a
ludicrous likeness to ourselves, and always seems to strike
children with surprise. Both our monkeys were of the
same species ; and the last one we had was certainly affec-
tionate to those whom it took a fancy to, though apt to
take a capricious ill-will even to them, while to others it
manifested marked dislike at first sight. During summer,
it used to be fastened to a tree in the garden, where it
could climb about, or swing by its prehensile tail ; but in
winter, its health suffered from confinement in a cage, and

156 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN,

it was eventually sent to tlie Zoological Gardens. It was
rather touching to see how instantly he recognised any of
his old friends while there, coming close to the bars of the
large cage, and clasping his long black fingers round their
hands, reluctantly letting go, and following them with his
eyes round the room as long as he could see them. He
died of consumption, a disease which carries off many of
these animals when brought to this country.

The propensity to make pets of live creatures is by no
means confined to taming beasts and birds ; almost any
living thing Avill do, although no doubt this propensity is
most fully gratified when the pet returns the affection
bestowed, or even recognises its owner. Many animals,
generally considered disgusting, have been made pets of —
such as toads, newts, and lizards ; indeed, I can recall a
summer when a glass globe, usually filled with gold-fish,
about the most uninteresting of pets, was converted into a
fresh-water aquarium, and all sorts of queer creatures kept
therein. It was long before the days of aquariums, so
perhaps the novelty was one attraction ; but certainly no
one entered the drawing-room who did not examine and
watch with interest the reptiles and insects hving there,
an interest the pretty but stupid gold-fish never excited.
(3ne large water-newt was an especial object of curiosity;
he did not object to being taken out of the water and
handled : indeed he had to submit occasionally to be made
a plaything of by the children of the family, and more than
once he was dressed in a doll's frock and carried about
tenderly, the little fat forelegs of the newt being suggestive

OUR PETS. 157

of infantine arms ! Almost everybody lilies to look at
tadpoles, little merry black imps, wriggling up and down,
some with tails, some with none, some like little balls,
others with tiny feet beginning to sprout, always in
motion, and always merry, and at last disappearing in
some mysterious way, just when one expects to have a
dozen or so of infant frogs to disj)ose of. This disappear-
ance of one's reptile pets is, it must be acknowledged, apt
to be annoying, not that they are ever found, but that
people will keep grumbling about " these nasty creatures "
crawling about the room, and insisting on it that they are
dangerous and poisonous, and that they don't like such
creatures at large in the sitting-rooms. A lizard with a
family of young ones once disapj^eared in this way, to my
great regret ; she was kept in a large china bowl, among
damp earth, carefully covered in by a glass shade ; the
mother grew tame enough to take flies from the hand, while
the young ones got a spray of a rose-bush covered with
aphides shaken among them every morning. They lived
thus some weeks, and then disappeared, no one, of course,
acknowledging to having lifted the cover, or touched the
bowl. This difficulty, impossibility rather, of preventing
people from vieddliug with what they profess to be only
looking at, is a sore subject to most collectors and keepers
of curiosities ; boxes are opened just for a peep, covers are
removed and carelessly replaced, and then the doers of
the mischief turn round upon the hapless naturalist and
blame him for filling the house with creeping things,
when he would be but too thankful to have his newts,

158 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

lizards, caterpillars, or glowworms safe in captivity
again .

This fancy for making pets of reptiles is certainly not
very common, and meets with little sympathy ; so it is all
the pleasanter to find a poet taking the part of these
creatures, and drawing a moral from them too : —

" You may love a screaming owl,
And if you can, the unwieldy toad
Tliat crawls from his secure abode
Withiu the mossy garden wall
When evening dews begin to fall.
Oh, mark the beauty of his eye :
What wonders in that circle lie !
So clear, so bright, our fathers said
He wears a jewel in his head !
And when upon some showery day,
Into a path or public way,
A frog leaps out from bordering grass.
Startling the timid as they pass,
Do you observe him, and endeavour
To take the intru^der into favour ;
Learning from him to find a reason
For a light heart in a dull season."

Far as my experience goes, the pleasure of petting and
feeding the bees has been all I got from them ! No doubt
there is profit as well as pleasure to be derived from a
well-managed ai)iary ; but although it is generally true

that

" It's a' for the hinney we cherish the bee,"

I think there is much interest and amusement to be de-
rived from watching the little busy creatures at work, and

OLTR PETS. 159

making acquaintance as it were with them.* In general,
they do not object to any one going qidetly up to the hive,
and sitting by them, to observe what they are doing ; they
seem universally good-tempered at swarming time, and also
when being fed ; but no doubt bees, like ourselves, have
fits of bad temper, without any reasonable cause that we
can discover, and it is prudent to keep out of the way at
such times. This state of feeling is generally made known
by one bee flying round the person with a shrill buzz,
quite different from the usual hum ; sometimes the little
scold is pacified if the intruder goes quietly off, but at
other times it will follow, flying round and round with
evident intentions of stinging. I am not quite sure whether
an attack of this seemingly capricious kind is made by a
bee in a bad humour, solely for its own gratification, or
whether it has been set to act as guard, and is merely
doing its duty. Give it the benefit of the doubt, and do

* The following quaint account of the profit to be derived from
bees is found in a note in Bonner's " New Plan for Increasing the
Number of Bee-Hives in Scotland," published in 1795 : — " The
author's father, James Bonner, was, like himself, fond of rearing
bees, and often had a dozen of hives at a time in his garden. He
lived above fifty years in the married state, and had twelve children,
of whom the author is the youngest alive. He frequently boasted
that, in good seasons, he made as much money by his bees as nearly
to purchase oatmeal sufficient to serve his numerous family for the
whole year. He purchased a large quarto Bible with the wax pro-
duced in one year from his hives, which served as a family book
ever after; and his house was always well supplied with honey,
and a kind of weak mead, which served for drink at all seasons of
the year."

160 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

not strike at it, but just be off quietly and quickly. It is
not easy to avoid ascribing Imman feelings to these insects
after one has been watching their ways ; it seems so natu-
ral to suppose that they recognise individuals that one is
apt to accuse them of ingratitude when they sting the
hand that is feeding them, though this they seldom do ;
indeed, it ma}'- fairly be surmised that the busier the bees
are, the better tempered are they, and the less disposed to
notice or be annoyed by a quiet spectator — a hint this to
all idle ones. Something to do, and doing it heartily, is a
grand preservative against ill-humour in old and young.

We are getting lower down in the scale of pets when we
come to those who merely recognise the hand that feeds
them, without being able to shew or feel personal attach-
ment ; even this degree of tameness, however, has its
charm. But what can be said for a still lower scale of
animal life, the zoophytes, and other inhabitants of our
drawing-room aquariums ] Not the most vivid imagination
can suppose a sea-anemone devotedly attached to its keeper,
or can fancy any sort of individual character about these
animals at all ; and although the crabs are most amusing,
and well worthy of the records of Lewes, Harjier, and
others, they belong to a higher order of being, and must
not be insulted by being placed alongside of serpulae and
sea-anemones. The mania for drawing-room aquariums
is passing away, a proof that it was neither for scientific
purposes nor for the pleasure of watching the habits of the
creatures confined therein, that they were set up ; but to
those who have a taste for cither of these pursuits, allied as

OUR PETS. Kil

they are, an aquarium is a source of considerable interest
and anmsement.

I have avoided all mention of dogs as pets in this some-
what ramblino' record ; the truth is, that these animals are
felt to be rather companions than mere pets, at least they
may be made so, and I appeal to any one who is a genuine
k)ver of dogs whether I am not right in saying that there is
as much difference between a dog who has been made a com-
panion of, and one who has not. as between a child whose
heart and mind have been cultivated and one of the sad
stray waifs who have never had a kind word spoken to
them. Start not, reader, nor think that for one moment I
would place a dog, or any animal, in comparison with a
human being ; but neither am I at all disposed to give in
to the somewhat unjust outcry, that a love for pet-animals
hardens the heart against our fellow -creatures. On the
contrary, it is generally found that those who have this
love of, and kindness towards animalSj are also those to
whom we may look with confidence for all tenderness and
love to the weak, the sick, the sorrowful, and the young
among their fellow-creatures. It w\as the advice of one of
the most kindly Christian men that ever worked among
our " lapsed masses," the Rev. Daniel Wilkie, to train all
'boys to love pets, it was such a great preventive against
the thoughtless cruelty and tyranny so apt to be exercised
by them towards all defenceless beings ; and if to this it
be replied, that there are few things more to be pitied
than a child's pet animal, I still say, and Avill uphold, that
it is the loving them, the petting them, in short, that is

162 THE CHRONICLES OF A GAEDEN.

advised, and that has the beneficial effect mentioned ; not

tlie neglecting or tormenting them, which is too often

called " keeping pets/' So let all encouragement be

given to

" Likings fresli and innocent,
That store the mind, the memory feed,
And prompt to manj^ a gentle deed."

It would be easy to cite examples, among all classes, of
the great and good, of this love of animals, especially of
dogs. Poems have been composed on them, anecdotes
collected of them, biographies written of them, all telling
of the desire felt by the heart to have something to love
and protect that will love in return.

They are to be pitied who have it not, for it is certainly
a source of innocent pleasure, to say the least of it ; and
considering, as an old gentleman used deploringly to say,
how few lawful pleasures there are in this world, it is as
well to enjoy such as we have.

I began this chapter with the idea of merely pointing
out how much the presence and companionship of the
animal creation heightens the enjoyment of out-of-doors
occupations ; but I believe still more pleasure, and solace
too, is felt in the society of a pet by the solitary and the
invalid. Among the aged poor this is often met with ;
and harsh indeed must be the heart that w^ould blame
them for keeping and feeding what you may deem a
useless animal, " It is a kind of company to me," is the
touching excuse made by those who, either bedridden or
living alone, cherish a pet bird, a cat, or one of these queer

OUR PETS. 163

nondescripts supposed to be of the canine race. If there
is pleasure in being able to give one's favourites the range
of a garden or an aviary, there is more intimacy, more
affection on both sides, when the captivity is closer, the
sphere of both parties more circumscribed, A bird, tame
enough to be allowed to come out of the cage and fly
about the room, is a great source of cheerful enjoyment to
any one confined to one room, either by a sedentary and
soKtary occupation, or by the more depressing effects of
long illness. Its merry notes, active movements, and con-
fiding trust, often win the lonely invalid from sad thoughts ;
and even when in its little prison, its cheerful content and
half shy attempts at making friends are very attractive.
Of course, preferences vary : some may and do prefer a
quiet comfort-loving pussy as a room-mate, but it may be
from habit and association. I cannot but feel that there
is more alleviating pleasure derived from a tame bird by
the sick or solitary than from any animal, even a dog.
Marked as is often the attachment that keeps a dog beside
one it loves, lying quietly for many a long day beside the
sufferer, — it feels more selfish to allow it to do so, than to
retain beside one a bird habituated to a cage. There is an
odd sort of comfort, too, in the consciousness that one
can't spoil a bird, whereas it is cj[uite possible to make a
spoiled pet of a dog or cat, and these are c|uite as tyran-
nical, and almost as disagreeable, as a spoiled child.

It were endless to quote passages from prose writers in
favour of our pets ; the dogs of our celebrated men are as
well known almost as their masters. Who is there that

164

THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

has not heard of Sir Walter's Maida and Crab, of the
Ettrick shepherd's Luath and Yarrow, of Rab and his
friends I

But we may indulge ourselves, and conclude this chap-
ter with some poetical tributes to the love felt for bird
and beast by those gifted ones, who know the truth of
Coleridge's words —

" He praj'eth well, who loveth well
Both man, and bird, and beast."

OUR PETS. 1G5

RANGER'S GRAVE.

He 's dead and gone ! He 's dead and gone !
And the lime-tree branches wave,
And the daisy blows,
And the green grass grows,
Upon his grave.

He 's dead and gone ! He 's dead and gone !
And he sleeps by the flowering lime,
Where he loved to lie
When the sun was high.
In summer time.

We 've laid him there, for I could not bear
His poor old bones to hide
In some dark hole,
Where rat and mole

And blind-worms bide.

We 've laid him there, where the blessed air
Disports with the lovely light,
And raineth showers
Of those sweet flowers
So silver white :

Where the blackbird sings, and the wild bee's wings
Make music all day long,

And the cricket at night
(A dusky sprite)

Takes up the song.

He loved to lie, where his wakeful eye
Could keep me still in sight,
Whence a word, or a sign,
Or a look of mine,

Brought him like light.

166 THE CHEONICLES OF A GARDEN.

Nor word, nor sign, nor look of mine.
From under the lime-tree bough,
With bark and bound
And frolic round.

Shall bring him now.

But he taketh his rest, where he loved best
In the days of his life to be,
And that place will not
Be a common spot
Of earth to me.

Caroline Souihey.

TO MY BIRDIE.

Here's only yon an' me. Birdie ! here's only you an' me !
An' there you sit, you humdrum fowl,
Sae mute and mopish as an owl, —

Sour companie !

Sing me a little sang, Birdie ! lilt up a little lay !
AVhen folks are here f u' fain are ye
To stun them with yere minstrelsie

The leeve-lang day ;

An' now we 're only twa, Birdie ! and now we 're only twa ;
'Twere sure but kind and cosie, Birdie,
To charm wi' yere wee hurdy-gurdie

Dull care awa.

Ye ken, when folks are pair'd, Birdie ! ye ken, when folks are

pair'd,
Life's foul an' fair an' freakish weather,
An' light an' lumb'rin' loads, thegither

Maun a' be shared;

An' shared wi' lovin' hearts, Birdie ! wi' lovin' heai'ts an' free ;
For fashious loads may weel be borne,
An' roughest roads to velvet turn,

Trod cheerfully.

OUR PETS. 167

We 've a' our cares an' crosses, Birdie ! we 've a' our caret an'

crosses,
But then to sulk an' sit sae glum —
Hout, tout ! what guid o' that can come

To mend one's losses ?

Ye 're dipt in wiry fence, Birdie ! ye 're dipt in wirj' fence ;
An' aiblins I, gin I mote gang
Upo' a wish, wad be or lang

Wi' frien's far hence :

But wliat 's a wish, ye ken, Birdie ! but what 's a wish,

ye ken ?
Nae cantrip uaig, like hers o' Fife,
Wha daurit wi' the auld weird wife

Flood fell an' fen,

'Tis true, ye 're furnish'd fair, Birdie ! 'tis true ye 're furnish'd

fair,
Wi' a braw pair o' bonnie wings,
Wad lift ye whar yon lav' rock sings,

High up i' th' air ;

But then that wire 's sae Strang, Birdie ! but then that wire's

sae Strang !
An' I mysel', sae seemin' free,
Nae wings have I to wafteu me

AVhar fain I 'd gang.

An' say we'd baith our wills, Birdie ! we'd each our wilfu' way :
Whar lav'rocks hover, falcons fly ;
An' snares an' pitfa's afteu lie

Whar wishes stray.

An' ae thing wed I wot. Birdie ! an' ae thing weel I wot —
There 's Ane abune the highest sphere,
Wha cares for a' His creatures here,

Marks every lot;

16<S THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

Wha guards the crowned king, Birdie ! wha guards the crowned

king,
And taketh heed for sic as me —
Sae little worth — an' e'en for thee,

Pnir witless thing !

Sae now, let's baith cheer up, Birdie, and sin' Ave 're only twa —
Aff han' — let 's ilk ane do our best,
To ding that crabbit, canker'd pest,

Dull care awa !

Caroline Southey.

MY DOVES.

My little doves have left a nest

Upon an Indian tree.

Whose leaves fantastic take their rest

Or motion from the sea ;

For, ever there, the sea-winds go

With sunlit paces to and fro.

The tropic flowers look'd np to it,

The tropic stars look'd down.

And there my little doves did sit.

With feathers softly brown.

And glittering eyes, that shew'd theii rigLt

To general nature's deep delight.

And God them taught, at every close
Of murmuring waves beyond,
And green leaves round, to interpose
Their choral voices fond,
Interpreting that love must be
The meaning of the earth and sea.

Fit ministers ! of living loves,
Tlieirs hath the calmest fashion.
Their living voice the likest moves

OUE PETS. 1G9

To lifeless intonation —

The lonely monotone of springs,

And winds, and such insensate things.

My little doves were ta'en away

From that glad nest of theirs,

Across an ocean rolling gray.

And tempest-clouded airs,

My little doves— who lately knew

The sky and wave by warmth and blue !

And now, within the city prison,

In mist and chillness pent.

With sudden upward look they listen

For sounds of past content —

For lapse of water, swell of breeze.

Or nut-fruit falling from the trees.

The stir without, the glow of passion,

The triumph of the mart,

The gold and silver as they clash «>n

Man's cold metallic heart,

The roar of wheels, the cry for bread —

These only sounds are heaixl instead.

Yet still, as on my human hand

Their fearless heads they lean.

And almost seem to understand

"What human musings mean,

(Their eyes, with such a plaintive shine.

Are fasten'd upwardly to mine !)

Soft falls their chant as on the nest

Beneath the sunny zone ;

For love, that stirr'd it in their breast.

Has not a-weary grown.

And 'neath the city's shade can keep

The well of music clear and deep.

170 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

And love that keeps the music, fills

With pastoral memories.

All echoings from out the hills,

All droppings from the skies,

All flovvings from the wave and wind,

Eemembei''d in their chant I find.

So teach ye me the wisest part,
My little doves ! to move
Along the city ways with heart
Assured by holy love,
And vocal with such songs as owu
A fountain to the world unknown.

'Twas hard to sing by Babel's stream,

More hard in Babel's street !

But if the soulless creatures deem

Their music not unmeet

For sunless walls — let m begin,

Who wear immortal wings within.

To me fair memories belong

Of scenes that used to bless.

For no regret, but present song,

And lasting thankfulness.

And very soon to break away,

Like types, in purer things than they.

I will have hopes that cannot fade,

For flowers the valley yields !

I will have humble thoughts instead

Of silent dewy fields !

My spirit and my God shall be

My seaward hill, iny boundless sea.

Elizabeth B. Browning.

OUR PETS. 171

TO FLUSH, MY DOG.

I.
Loving friend, the gift of one
Who her own true faith has run

Through thy lower nature,
Be my benediction said
With my hand upon thy head.

Gentle fellow-creature !

II.
Like a lady's ringlets brown,
Flow thj^ silken ears adown

Either side demurely
Of thy silver-suited breast,
Shining out from all the rest

Of thy body purely.

III.
Darkly brown thy body is,
Till the sunshine striking this

Alchemise its dulness ;
When the sleek curls manifold
Flush all over into gold,

With a burnish'd fulness.

IV.

Underneath my stroking hand.
Startled eyes of hazel bland

Kindling, growing larger,
Up thou leapest with a spring.
Full of prank and curveting.

Leaping like a charger.

V.

Leap ! thy broad tail waves a light.
Leap ! thy slender feet are bright,
Canopied in fringes ;

172 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

Jjeap — those tassell'd ears of thine
Flicker strangely, fair and fine,
Down their golden inches.

VI.

Yet, my pretty, sportive friend,
Little is 't to such an end

That I praise thy rareness !
Other dogs may be thy peers
Haply in those drooping ears,

And this glossy fairness.

VII.

P)Ut of thee it shall be said,
This dog watch'd beside a bed

Day and night unweary, —
Watch'd within a curtain'd room.
Where no sunbeam brake the gloom,

Round the sick and dreary.

VIII.

Hoses, gather'd for a vase.
For that chamber died apace.

Beam and breeze resigning ;
This dog only, waited on,
Knowing that when light is gone.

Love remains for shining.

IX.

Other dogs in thymy den

Track'd the hares and follow'd through

Snowy moor or meadow.
This dog only, crept and crept
Next a languid cheek that slept,

Sharing in the shadow.

X.

Other dogs, of loyal cheer.
Bounded at the whistle clear,'
Up the woodside hying.

OUR PETS. 173

This dog onlj', watch'd in reach
Of a faiutly-utter'd speech,
Or a louder sighing.

xr.
And if one or twu quick tears
Dropp'd upon his glossy ears,

Or a sigh came double,
Up he sprang in eager haste,
Fawning, fondling, breathing fast,

In a tender trouble.

XI r.
And this dog was satisfied
If a pale thin hand would glide

Down his dewlaps sloping —
Which he push'd his nose within,
After platfonning his chin

On the palm left open.

xiir.
This dog, if a friendly voice
Call him now to blither choice

Than such chamber-keeping.
Come out ! " praying from the door,
Presseth backward as before,

Up against me leaping.

XIV.

Therefore to this dog will I,
Tenderly, not scornfully.

Render praise and favour :
With my hand upon his head.
Is my benediction said,

Therefore and for ever.

XV.

And because he loves me so.

Better than his kind will do

Often, man or woman ;

174 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN".

Give I back more love again
Tiiau dogs often take of men,
Learning from my Human.

XVI.

Blessings on thee, dog of mine,
Pretty collars make thee fine,

Sugai''d milk make fat thee !
Pleasures wag on in thy tail,
Hands of gentle motion fail

Nevermore to pat thee !

XVII.

Downy pillow take thy head,
Silken coverlet bestead,

Sunshine help thy sleeping !
No flies buzzing wake thee up,
No man break thy purple cup,

Set for drinking deep in.

XVIII.

Whisker'd cats anointed flee,
Sturdy stoppers keep from thee

Cologne distillations ;
Nuts lie on thy path for stones.
And thy feast-day macaroons

Turn to daily rations !

XIX.

Mock I thee, in wishing weal ?
Tears are in my eyes to feel

Thou art made so straightly.
Blessing needs must straighten too,
Little canst thou joy or do,

Thou who lovest greatly.

XX.

Yet be blessed to the height
Of all good and all delight
Pervious to thy nature ;

OUR PETS. 175

Only loved beyond that line,
With a love that answers thine,
Loving fellow-creature !

ON THE GRAVE OF A FAITHFUL DOG.

Theee trees which stand apart upon
A sunny slope of meadow ground,

A shadow from the heat at noon,
And underneath a grassy movmd.

A little silent grassy mound !

And is this all is left of thee,
Whose feet would o'er the meadow bound,

So full of eager life and glee ?

Of " thee ? " and may I say e'en this
Of what so wholly pass'd away ?

Or can such trust and tenderness
Be crush'd entirely into clay 'I

The voice whose welcomes were so glad,
Feet pattering like summer showers ;

The dark eyes which would look so sad
If gathering tears were dimming ours.

Those wistful, dark, inquiring eyes.
So fond and watchful, deep and true ;

That made the thought so often rise —

What looks these crystal windows through ?

Didst thou not watch for hours our track,
And for the absent seem to pine ?

And when the well-known voice came back,
What ecstasy could equal thine ?

Is it all lost in nothingness.

Such gladness, love, and hope, and trust ;
Such busy thought our thoughts to guess.

All trampled into common dust?

170 THE CHRONICLES OF A GARDEN.

Save memories which our hearts entwine,
Has all for ever pass'd away ;

Like the dear home once thine and mine-
The home now silent as the clay ?

Or is there something yet to come,
From all our silence yet concealed.

About the patient creatures dumb,
A secret yet to be revealed ?

— A happy secret still behind,

Yet for the mute creation stored ;
Which suffers, though it never sinn'd,
And loves and toils without reward ?

The Three Wakinys

?Wi^{

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ing and pleasing style, and convey most valuable lessons." — Witness.

THE DIVINE HUMAN IN THE SCRIPTURES.

By Professor Tayler Lewis. Crown Svo, 3s. 6d. cloth.
"This is no commonplace book ; it is evidently the production of a man
a high order of intellect, well .schooled in theological literature and Biblical
truth, and deeply imbued with reverence for the Holy Word." — Ilomilist.

THE STANDARD OF THE CROSS AMONG THE

FLAGS OF THE NATIONS: A Narrative of Christian Effort in the

Great Exhibition. ]3y V. M. S. With a Preface by the Author of "Haste

to the Rescue." Crown Svo, 3s. 6d. cloth.

" As a memorial of the Great E.xhibition of 1862, were it on no higher

grounds, the book is worth a place on the shelves of a full library. The

letters are full of interest, and many of the facts are curious and striking." —

British and Foreign Evangelical Review.

JAMES NISBET AND CO.

HYMNS OF THE CHURCH MILITANT. Compiled

by the Authors of "The Wide, Wide World," &c. ISmo, 6s. cloth antique.

" It contains about five hundred sacred songs, admirably chosen from the
writei's of almost every age and country. As a gift book to a Christian friend
WG can liardly imagine anything more appropriate than this." — Baptist
Magazine.

OUR HOMELESS POOR, AND AVHAT WE CAN

DO TO HELP THEM. By the Author of " Helen Lindsay." Crown
8vo, 3s. 6d. cloth.

" Whoever wants to know how the wanderers about London are now ac-
commodated with food and lodging for the night, ought at once to procure
this remarkably interesting and original book." — Banner of Ulster.

THE MISSING LINK ; or, Bible-Women in the Homes

of the London Poor. By L. N. R., Author of " The Book and its Story. '
Small crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. cloth. Also, a Cheap Edition, Is. 6d. cloth limp.

"This b(>ok treats of the heathen of St Giles's instead of the heathen of
Madagascar and Makalolo, or it would receive a wider circulation, and create
a more vivid interest, than the travels even of an Ellis and a Livingston." —
Daily News.

HASTE TO THE RESCUE ; or, Work while it is Day.

By Mrs Charles Wiohtman. With a Preface by the Author of "English
Hearts and English Hands." Small crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. cloth. Also, a
Cheap Edition, Is. 6d. cloth limp.

"The matter of Mrs Wightman's publication is most interesting, and we
wish every clergyman's wife would carefully peruse it." — Church of England
Magazine.

ENGLISH HEARTS AND ENGLISH HANDS ; or,

The Railway and the Trenches. By the Author of " Memorials of Cap-
tain Hedley Vicars." Small Svo, 6s. cloth. Also, a Cheap Edition, 2s.
cloth limp.

"We recognise an honesty of purpose, a purity of heart, and a warmth of
human affection, combined with a religious faith, that are very beautiful." —
Times.

THE TITLES OF JEHOVAH : A Series of Lectures

Preached in Portman Chapel, Baker Street, during Lent 1S5S ; to which
are added. Six Lectures on the Christian Race, Preached during Lent
1857. By the Rev. J. W. Reeve, M.A. Small crown Svo, 5s. cloth.

"We have seldom met with sermons that approach more nearly to our
ideal of apostolic preaching than these. Tliere is no question as to the au-
thor's foundation or superstructure." — Record.

THE THREE WAKINGS, with Hymns and Songs. By

the Author of "The Voice of Christian Life in Song," "Tales and Sketches
of Christian Life," &c. <fec. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. cloth.

" All of these poems mark an author of considerable ability, while many of
them are full of great beauty and feeling. Indeed, taken as a whole, the
volume will bear comparison with the works of those who have acquired a
high reputation in the world of poetic literature." — St James's Clironicle.

4 A SELECTION FROM THE CATALOGUE OF

THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO MARK EXPLAINED.

By Joseph Addison Alexander, D.D., Princeton. Post 8vo, 7s. 6d.
" The work is minute and full, but characterised by compression of matter
and conciseness of statement." — Witness.

HOME LIGHT; or, The Life and Letters of Maria

Chowne, Wife of the Rev. William Marsh, D.D., of Beckenham. By her

Son, the Rev. W. Tilson Marsh, M.A. of Oriel College, and Incumbent of

St Leonard's-on-Sea. Crown 8vo, 5s. cloth.

" Her letters are the best reflections of a cultivated mind and loving heart,

as well as of the genial piety which diffused its fragrant odour over all her

works. We beai'tily recommend it to the notice of our readers." — Record.

ST AUGUSTINE : A Biographical Memoir. By the Rev.

John Baillie, Author of "Memoir of Adelaide Newton," &c. Small

crown Svo, 5s. cloth.
"Mr Baillie has been, we think, very successful in liis selection of incidents,
in the diess in which he has exhibited them, and in the practical application
which he has made of them. The book is very pleasing, and very edifying."
— British and Foreign Evangelical Revieto.

LIFE WORK ; or, The Link and the Rivet. By L. N. R.,

Author of " The Book and its Story." Crown Svo, 3s. 6d. cloth.
"Every minister's wife should have a copy of this book, as the best guide
she can have in doing good to the poor, and providmg fur the improvement of
the neglected and the outcast." — Wesley an Times.

HYMNS OF FAITH AND HOPE. By Horatius

BoNAR, D.D. Fcap. Svo, 1st and 2d Series, each 5s. cloth. Also, a 32mo
Edition of the first Series, Is. 6d. cloth.
" There is great sweetness both of sentiment and of versification in many
of these devotional hymns." — Evangelical Christendom.

" A volume of hymns which glow with poetry and piety combined. Many
of them have found their way to many circles, and are greatly appreciated."
— London Monthly Review.

THE LAND OF THE FORUM AND THE VATICAN ;

or, Thouglits and Sketches during an Easter Pilgrimage to Rome. By

Newman Hali,, LL.B. Small crown Svo, Cs. cloth.
"This book wiU be read with much interest by all, and will amply repay
the time and trouble bestowed on it. The controver.sialist will find in it
much to startle and amaze his practised eye, and will, moreover, receive
hints not entirelj' useless in his special pursuits. We rise from its perusal
with ijleasure and profit." — Witness.

THE VOICE OF CHRISTIAN LIFE IN MANY

LANDS AND AGES: Sketches of Hymns and Hymn-Writers. By the
Author of "Sketches of Christian Life," &c. Small crown Svo, 5s. cloth
antique.
" Hymnology is not an easy .subject on which to write a popular book, yet

the author has made the attempt, and succeeded. Its plan is partly literarj'.

partly historical, and partly biographical. . . . We can heartily recommend

this unpretending book to those who have an interest in its subject." —

Oaardian,

JAMES NISBET AND CO.

THE GOLDEN LADDER. Stories Illustrative of the

Eiglit Beatitudes. By the Authors of "The Wide, Wide World," &c.
With coloured Plates. Crowu Svo, 3s. (5d. cloth.

THE MARTYRS OF SPAIN" AND THE LIBERA-
TORS OF HOLLAND. Memoirs of the Sisters Dolores and Costanza
Cazalla. By the Author of "Tales and Sketches of Christian Life," «fcc.
Crown Svo, 5s. cloth.
" In conception, detail, and tone, the stories are far superior to the ordinary

run of such tales. They contain passages of picturesque and forcible writing."

— AthencEum.

MANXLAND. A Tale. With an Introductory Sketch

of Manx Home Missions. Woodcuts. By Miss Bellanne Stowell.
Crown Svo, 2s. 6d. cloth.
" This is a very good book ; one which may be read with advantage by the
multitude." — English Churchman.

MEMORIALS OF JOHN BOWEN, LL.D., late Bishop

of Sierra Leone. Compiled from his Letters and Journals by his Sister.

Post Svo, 9s. cloth.
" His life ought to be read far and wide." — Christian Observer.
" A faithful picture of a noble and good man." — DailT/ JSeus.

COAST MISSIONS. A Memoir of the Rev. Thomas

Rosie. By the Rev. James Dodds, Dunbar. Crown Svo, 3s. 6d. cloth.
" We cannot too earnestly recommend this memoir to the study of our
readei-s, and especially of young Christians." — Witness.

CHINA AND ITS PEOPLE. A Book for Young

Readers. By a Missionary's Wife. 16mo. Woodcuts. 2s. 6d. cloth.
" We cannot conceive a more intelligent and interesting book for little
readers, or more likely to benetit as well as amuse them." — Patriot.
" It is elegantly written, and beautifully illustrated." — Chns. Witness.

BRIEF MEMORIALS OF THE REV. ALPHONSE

FRANCOIS LACROIX, Missionary of the London Missionary Society in

Calcutta By his Son-in-Law, Rev. Joseph Mullens, Missionai-y of the

same Society. Crown Svo, 5s. cloth.

"Missionary life in Bengal has never been more truly and graphically

described than in Dr Mullen's deeply intei-esting memoir of his reverend

father-in-law. It is a thoroughly honest book." — Spectator.

THE OMNIPOTENCE OF LOVING - KINDNESS.

Being a Narrative of the Results of a Lady's Seven Months' Work among

the Fallen in Glasgow. Crown Svo, 3s. 6d. cloth.
"The title of this book almost claims for it a favourable notice. We are
glad, however, to say that its pages, more than its title, deserve this at our
hands." — Scottish Press.

THE NIGHT LA^IP. A Narrative of the Means by

which Spiritual Darkness was dispelled from the Deathbed of Agnes
Maxwell Macfarlane. By the Rev. John Macfarlane, LL.D., Author if
"Why Weepest Thou?" A New and Cheaper Edition, crowu Svo, 3s. 6d.
cloth.
" We do not wonder at its popularity. It is a story of thrilling interest, told

by an affectionate, intelligent, and ardent mind." — Journal of Sacred Lilera'

tare.

6 A SELECTION FROM THE CATALOGUE OF

THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO MATTHEW EX-

PLAINED. By Joseph Addison Alexander, D.D., Princeton. Post
8vo, 5s. cloth.

" This volume is the last work on which this accomplished scholar and
divine was engaged, and which, up to within eight days of his death, was still
receiviug additions from his terse and vigorous pen." — Witness.

THE HEART AND THE MIND. True Words on

Training and Teaching. By Mrs Hugh A. Kennedy. Fcap. 8vo, 2s. 6d.

" This is not an ordinaiy loose performance, but a very solid, well-digested,
and deeply instructive volume." — Christian Witness.

ANNALS OF THE RESCUED. By tlie Author of

" Haste to the Rescue; or, Work while it is Day." With a Preface by
the Rev. C. E. L. Wightman. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. cloth.

" This is a deeply-interesting volume. It is a book of similar character to
' English Hearts and English Hands,' and shows what may be effected by
well-directed and individual efforts." — Watchman.

DOCTRINE AND PRACTICE: Lectures preached in

Portman Chapel, London. By Rev. J. W. Reeve, M.A., Minister of the
Chapel. Crown 8vo, 5s. cloth.

" These interesting and scriptural lectures will well reward perusal. They
are simple and direct. We thank Mr Reeve for his truly excellent dis-
courses."— Compass.

SCENES OF LIFE, Historiccal and Biographical, chiefly

from Old Testament Times ; or, Chapters for Solitary Hours, and for the
Sunday at Home. By the Rev. John Baillie, Author of " Memoirs of
Hewitson." Crown 8vo, 5s. cloth.

"The topics of these meditations are generally well chosen, and the reflec-
tions founded upon them are such as they would naturally suggest to a pious
and contemplative mind."

GRACE ABOUNDING : A Narrative of Facts, ilhis-

trating what the Revival has Done, and is Doing. With Thoughts on
the Christian Ministry, Lay-Action, and Individual Resp msibility. By
the Rev. John Baillie, Author of " Memoirs of Hewitson." Crown 8vo,
2s. 6d. cloth.

"This interesting little book is divided into twenty-two chapters, replete
with anecdotical and illustrative matter. We commend the volume most
lieartily to all interested in the great revival movement at present agitating
the country. " — Scottish Press.

THE PENITENT'S PRAYER. A Practical Exposition

of the Fifty-first Psalm. By the Rev. Thomas Alexander, M.A.,

Chelsea. Crown Svo, 3s. 6d. cloth.
" Mr Alexander gives us a literal translation of his own, very accurate,
with an analysis and explanation, in which some pithy things are drawn from
old divines. Of the exposition itself we cannot speak too highly. It is
soundly evangelical and dee])ly impressive. The style is peculiarly lucid and
terse; every sentence contains a thought, and every line a sentence."— 2'Ac
Patriot.

JAMES NISBET AND CO.

SMALL SINS. By the Kev. Alexander Balloch

Grosart, Kinross. Eoyal 32mo, Second Edition, Is. 6d. cloth.
"We are o;lad to see the second edition of this thoughtful sermon, in which
there is both genius and judgment, good writing, good learning, and good
gospel. Mr Grosart is by nature quaint and rich. Vv'e cordially commend
this little book for its aesthetic, as well as its deeper, and, in the best sense,
evangelical worth." — Scotsmcm.

FREEDOM AND SLAVERY IN THE UNITED

states of AMERICA. By the Hon. and Rev. B. W. Noel. Crown
8vo, 3s. (5d. cloth.
"We cordially recommend the volume to all who are interested in the
great questions at issue in the Transatlantic struggle." — Weekly Review,

FREEDOM AND HAPPINESS IN THE TRUTH

AND WAYS OF CHRIST. Sermons by the Rev. James Stratten, more
than Fortj^ Years Minister of Paddington Chapel. Post 8vo, 7s. 6d. cloth.
*' For their own intrinsic excellence, as well as for their monumental value,
these sermons will be prized by multitudes." — Patriot.

OLD FRIENDS AND WHAT BECAME OF THEM.

By the Rev. J. B. Owen, M.A., Incumbent of St Jude's, Chelsea. Crown
8vo, 3s. 6d. cloth.
" Keen observation, and singular felicity of illustration, render these
sketches quite inimitable." — Patriot.

THE RISEN REDEEMER. The Gospel History, from

the Resurrection to the Day of Pentecost. By F. W. Krummacher, D.D.
Translated by J. T. Betts. Post Svo, 5s. cloth.
"The new work by the warm-hearted, imaginative, and earnest divine,
appears trustworthy of his well-earned reputation." — Evangelical Magazine.

THE SYMPATHY OF CHRIST WITH MAN: Its

Teaching and its Consolation. By the Rev. Octavius Winslow, D.D.

Fcap. Svo, 5s. cloth.
"Probably no work has proceeded from the pen of Dr Winslow more
adapted to impart instruction, uv more fitted to minister consolation amidst
the sorrows of life." — Morning Advertiser.

THE CHRISTIAN GOVERNESS : A Memoir and a

Selection from the Correspondence of Miss Sarah Bennet, late of Melton
Mowbray. By Geokge B. Bennet, B.A., Curate of Fleet, Luicolnshire.
With an Introduction by the Rev. R. H. Cobbold, M.A., Rector of
Brosely, Salop. Crown Svo, 5s. cloth.
" We are pleased with this book, wliich may well be placed in the hands
of young ladies." — Church of England Magazine.

NINE MONTHS IN THE UNITED STATES DUR-
ING THE CRISIS. By the Rev. George Fisch, Paris. With a Preface
by the Hon. Arthdr Kinnatrd, M.P., and an Introduction by the Rev.
William Arthur. Crown Svo, 2s. tjd. cloth.
"We commend the book, as containing a large amount of interesting

matter, and enforcing views which are of a sound and salutary character."

—Morning Advertiser.

A SELECTION FROM THE CATALOGUE OF

THE CANON OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES ; from

the Double Point of View of Science and of Faith. By the Rev. L. Gaus-
SEN, of Geneva. 8vo, 10s. 6d. cloth.

"We set a very high value on this noble work. The learning which the
book evinces is ample, varied, and many-sided." — British and Foreign Evan-
gelical Revieto.

LOST, BUT NOT FOR EVER. My Personal Narra-

tive of Starvation and Providence in the Australian Mountain Regions.
By R. W. Vanderkiste, late London City Missionary. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
cloth.
"The book is full of interesting facts ; and here and there we light upon
some vivid pictures." — London Review.

EVERY-DAY RELIGION; or, Christian Principle in

Daily Practice. By the Rev. William Landels, Author of "True Man-
hood." Crown 8vo, 4s. 6d. cloth.
" It demonstrates how widely and wonderfully Christianity touches every

sphere, every passion, every motive, and every interest of human life. It is

earnest, and sometimes rises to eloquence." — Patriot.

TRUE YOKE-FELLOWS IN THE MISSION FIELD.

The Life and Labours of the Rev. John Anderson and the Rev. Robert
Johnston, traced in the Rise and Development of the Madras Free Church
Mission. By the Rev. John Braidwood, M.A. Post 8vo, 7.s. 6d. cloth.
" We earnestly recommend the volume of Mr Braidwood." — Witness.

THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF JOHN ANGELL

JAMES, including an Unfinished Autobiography. Edited by R. W. Dale,
M. A., his Colleaoue and Successor. Demy 8vo, 12s. cLith; also a Cheaper
Edition, post 8vo, 7s. 6d. cloth.
" Mr Dale has given us a very beautiful biography." — Patriot.

GOD'S WAY OF PEACE. By Horatius Bonar, D.D.

Four Editions of this valuable work can now be had, viz., a Cheap
Edition, 6d. sewed, and 9d. cloth limp. In 18mo, a New Edition, in cloth
antique. Is. 6d. Also a Large Type Edition, crown 8vo, 2s. cloth.
"The best book for the anxious ever written."— Rev. Samuel Garratt in
Revival Truths.

DISCUSSIONS ON THE GOSPELS. By the Rev.

Alexander Roberts, M.A., St John's Wood, London. Svo, 16s. cloth.

" A most valuable contribution to our Biblical literature. . . . Mr Roberts
has satisfied the reqxiirements of the mo.st exacting critical scholarship. . . .
Throughout tlie whole of his book he has handled his i)roblems iu the most
excellent spirit." — Max Muller in The Saturday Review.

THE PHYSICIAN'S DAUGHTERS ; or. The Spring-

time of Women. Dedicated to the Gentlewomen of England. Post Svo,

7s. 6d. cloth.
"Regarded as a simple, pleasant story, with an excellent and religiotis
purpose, written with no cant and imich sincerity, we have no hesitation at
all in recommending 'The Physician's Daughters.'" — Court Journal.

JAMES NISBET AND CO.

MENDIP ANNALS ; or, A Journal of the Charitable

Labours of Hannah and Martha More. Edited by Arthur Roberts,
M.A., Rector of Woodrising, Norfolk. Crown 8vo, 4s. 6d. cloth.
"We close t'ne pages of this diary with an increased respect for the menaory
of Miss Hannah More and her sister." — Critic.

WORKMEN AND THEIR DIFFICULTIES. By the

Author of " Ragged Homes and How to Mend Them." Ci'own 8vo,

3s. 6d. cloth. Also, a cheap Edition, Is. cloth limp.
"This is a book that we could wish to find exclusively circulated among
the working classes. . . . The authoress has evidently studied her subject
carefully, and she embodies in her book much valuable and pregnant infor-
mation."— Scottish Guardian.

THE GRAPES OF ESHCOL ; or, Gleanings from the

Land of Promise. By the Rev. J. R. M.^cduff, D.D. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d.
cloth.
"Mr Macduff has certainly produced a book of both pleasing and profitable
reading." — Witness.

"The subject of the volume is the rest and joy of heaven. There is
nothing to exercise thought, but much to awaiieu feeling." — Evangelical
Mo.gazine.

THE ROMANCE OF NATURAL HISTORY. By P.

H. GossE, F.R.S With Illustrations by Wolf. Post Svo, 1st and 2d

Series, each 7s. 6d. cloth.

" This is a charming book. . . . Every lover of nature, every lover of

the marvellous, every lover of the beautiful, every soul that can feel the

charm of true poetry, must be deeplj'- grateful to Mr Gjsse for an intellectual

treat of the highest order." — Daily Neios.

TRUE MANHOOD : Its Nature, Foundation, and De-
velopment. A Book for Young Men. By the Rev. W. Landels. Crown
Svo, 3s. 6d. cloth.
" This is a book true to its title. It contains on every page sentiments of

the highest value for the proper formatiou of manhood, m the Gospel sense

of the term. It is a book wliich every young naan should attentively read,

and every family possess."— Aov«/ie?-/i Warder.

THE UNSEEN. By William Landels, Minister of

Regent's Park Chapel. Small crown Svo, 3s. 6d. cloth.
" We have been much interested in this series of Discourses upon the Un-
seen, as an able and vigorous, a full and impressive, setting forth of the
leading features of a department of Divine truth too much overlooked." —
British and Foreign Evangelical Review.

THE SONG OF SONGS : A Practical Exposition of

the Song of Solomon. With a Translation after the Order and Idiom of

the Hebrew, and other additions. By the Rev. A. Moody Stuart,

Minister of Free St Luke's, Edinburgh. Demy Svo, l2s. cloth.

" In the very difficult part of exposition which Mr Stuart has chosen, he

has proved emmtntly successful. . . . He has pi-oduced a work of tlie

highest value — a work undoubtedly and by far the best for general use which.

we possess on this part of tlie inspired volume." — Witneis.

10 A SELECTION FROM THE CATALOGUE OF

LANCASHIRE HOMES, AND WHAT AILS THEM.

By the Author of "Ragged Homes, and How to Mend them." 16mo, Is.
cloth.
"We heartily hope that this little book will be widely circulated and ex-
tensively read." — Church of England Magazine.

SUNSHINE IN THE WORKHOUSE. By Mrs G.

W. iSheppard. Fcap. 8vo, 2s. cloth.
"As belonging: to a class of which ' Tlie Missing Link' and 'Haste to the
Rescue ' are notable examples, this unpretending volume has strong claims
on those who ' fear God and regard man.' " — Wesley an Times.

INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF OUR SAVIOUR,

Illustrative of His Divine Character and Mission. By the Rev. A. L. R.

FooTE, M.A., Brechin. Crown 8vo, 6s. cloth.
" This is a work of great simplicity, beauty, and power. The charm of this
work lies in the fulness and force of its individualisings. It is full of riches
for the observant and reflecting Christian." — Scottish Guardian.

CLOSING. SCENES IN THE LIFE OF CHRIST:

A Sequel to " Incidents in the Life of our Saviour." By the Rev. A. L.

K. FooTE, M.A. Crown Svo, 6s. cloth.
"These essays, twenty-one in number, will furnish excellent devotional
readings, and cannot fail to be edifying to thoughtful Christians. " — Clencal
Journal.

MEMORIES OF GENNESARET. By the Rev. J. R.

Macduff, D.D., Author of " Morning and Night Watches," " Faithful Pro-
miser," &o. Post Svo, 6s. 6d. cloth. ,
"An excellent and exceedingly attractive work. Its character is sim-
plicity, earnestnes.s, and devoutness." — Witness.

THE DESERT OF SINAL Notes of a Spring Journey

from Cairo to Beersheba. By Horatius Bonar, D.D. Crown Svo, 6s.

cloth.
"The work before us is the production of a man of fine intellect, of con-
siderable powers of observation, and of a genial and kindly nature. He is a
man of considerable reading." — Saturday Revitw.

LESSONS FROM THE GREAT BIOGRAPHY. By

James Hamilton, D.D., F.L.S. Small crown Svo, 5s. cloth.
" We give a very cordial welcome to this volume. Dr Hamilton deserves
well of the Christian public. ... A most delightful volume he has given
us, full of graphic picturing, of rich illustration, of fresh and suggestive
thinking, in a style always animated and glowing, often truly eloquent.
Most heartily do we recommend this volume to the perusal of those of our
readers who have not already possessed themselves of it." — Witness.

A THIRD SERIES OF PLAIN SERMONS for .all the

Sundays and Chief Holidays of the Year. Preached to a Village Congre-
gation. By the Rev. Arthdh Roberts, M.A., Rector of Woodrising,
Norfolk, Author of " Village Sermons." Two vols, crown Svo, 10s. cloth.
"The style is plain, the topics are sensibly di.scussed, the doctrine is scrip-
tural. We have heretofore commended an earlier volume of Mr Roberts'
Sermons, and we are glad to repeat our commendation with respect to the
volume before ua."— Church of England Magazine.

JAMES NISBET AND CO. 1 1

THE WANDERINGS OF THE CHILDREN OF

ISRAEL. By the late Rev. George Wagner, Author of "Sermons on
the Book of Job." Crown 8vo, 6s. cloth.

" The sermons are simple and plain, but very full of instruction." — Record.

THE CHILD OF THE KINGDOM. By the Author

of "The Way Home." Square 16mo, Is. stiff paper cover ; 23. 6d. cloth.
"A remarkable little book ; so remarkable, indeed, that in the whole range
of our Christian literature for the young we know of nothing to equal it." —
Bntish Messenger.

THE BASUTOS ; or, Twenty-three Years in South

Africa. By the Rev. E. Casalis, late Missionaiy Director of the Paris
Evangelical Mission House. Post 8vo, 6s. cloth.
"The v7ork gives us a capital insight into the life of a powerful African
tribe. ' ' — A thence um.

MEMORIALS OF THE REV. JOSEPH SORTAIN,

B.A., of Trinity College, Dublin. By his Widow. Post 8vo, 7s. 6d. cloth.

" In both taste and feeling the book is a most favourable specimen of reli-
gions biography." — Christian Remembrancer.
" This is a charming biography." — Record.

MEMORIALS OF SERGEANT WILLIAM MAR-

JOURAM, Royal Artillery. Edited by Sergeant William White. With
a Preface by the Author of "Memorials of Captain Hedley Vicars."
Crown Svo, 38. 6d. cloth.
"These memoirs are very interesting. . . . It is edited by Sergeant White,

the Preface being written by Miss March with her usual piety and good

feeling." — Christian Observer.

EVENINGS WITH JOHN BUNYAN ; or, The Dream

Interpreted. By James Large. Crown Svo, 4s. 6d. cloth.

"It abounds in most valuable matter, eminently calculated to instruct and
to edify. It is replete with interesting facts and circumstances, all in point,
and appropriate citations from the Word of God, as well as from sacred
poetry." — British Standard.

THE BLACK SHIP ; and other Allegories and Parables.

By the Author of "Tales and Sketches of Christian Life," &c. 16mo,

2s. 6d. cloth.
" This is a curious collection of multifiirious subjects, all of a character to
command attention and to repay it. Its airy, romantic character imparts a
charm which will be deeply felt by young people." — British Standard.

HELEN DUNDAS ; or, The Pastor's Wife. By Zaida.

With a Preface by the Author of " Haste to the Rescue." Crown Svo,
2s. 6d. cloth.

"This is an exceedingly pretty, well-written tale. Its object, much,
better achieved than that of many a more i)retentious volume, is to exhibit
the pastor's wife as a true 'helpmeet' to her husband." — DiMin Christian
Examiner.

12 SELECTION FROM CATALOGUE, ETC.

ABBEOKUTA ; or, Sunrise within the Tropics. An Out-

line of the Origin and Progress of tlie Yoruba Mission. By Miss Tucker.
Foolscap 8vo, 3s. 6d. cloth.

THE SOUTHERN CROSS AND THE SOUTHERN

CROWN; or, The Gospel in New Zealand. By Miss Tucker. Foolscap
8vo, 3s. 6d. cloth.

THE RAINBOW IN THE NORTH. A Short Ac-

count of the first Establishment of Christianity in Rupert's Land by the
Church Missionary Society. By Miss Tucker. With Illustrations. Fool-
scap, 3s. 6d. cloth.

A MEMOIR OF THE LIFE AND LABOURS OF

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THE PUBLIC SPEAKER, AND HOW TO MAKE

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THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE. By Rev. W. E.

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