the faces of thirteen years ago, which still remained vividly impressed on my memory. He My brother-in-law is still a fine-looking man. has grown somewhat portly, and a tendency to gout in the left foot has caused him to change his former activity of movement for a deliberateness which is not, however, without dignity. He has the same sweet smile, and his voice is even more gentle, his manners more bland than they used to be. Well, people may say what they please, but I never can believe he has so bad a temper as he is reported to have. Surely, if he were really so passionate, I must have seen some specimens of it before now. It is true that many circumstances prevented my having much intercourse with him during my poor sister's lifetime, and that, more than once, when I have seen them together, I have fancied that she seemed afraid of him; yet his deportment to her was ever that of a devoted husband, and it really seems impossible that an expression of countenance so benevolent, and a manner of speaking so unusually mild, should belong to a man of violent temper. He is said moreover, to be proud, and that I believe, although his bearing shows no symptom of it, except, perhaps, a certain elaborateness in his courtesies, which, as Owen used to say, "when you see in a gentleman, you may be sure that he looks down upon you." Perhaps Owen would draw a similar conclusion from his studious gentleness; but Owen is a caustic observer, and, though such persons always pique themselves on their perception of character, I do not find that they are generally so right in the end as those who take a more charitable view of their fellowcreatures. As for myself, I do not know that I can be called a good judge of character, but somehow or other I do manage to be generally on comfortable terms with all the manifold varieties that I encounter; and it has more than once been remarked, that I have a true feminine gift of winning influence over even the obstinate. I hope I am not vain of this, and, if it be true that I do possess such a power, I hope that I may always use it for good. At any rate I am not going to quarrel with my good brother-in-law, or to hunt for defects in his character just at the time when he is giving me so affectionate a reception. My niece Anna is not so handsome as she promised to be at fifteen; but she has a fine figure and a very sensible countenance. Her manners are a curious contrast to her father's; they are positively abrupt, and, as she never smiles when she speaks, the first impression is certainly not pleasing. I should say she was a little ungracious: but I daresay it is fancy. I am so accustomed to breathe a warm atmosphere of love, that I feel chilled and oppressed without it; but how unreasonable is it to expect that a niece whom I have seen very little of for the first fifteen years of her life, and not at all since, should love me by instinct. I must try to win her affections, and it shall be hard if she baffles me in the attempt. Janet is a sweet creature; very shy and downcast, but with the brightest little face I ever beheld when she smiles at you. She is very pretty, and very like her mother: tall, slender, and blue-eyed, with her fair young face in a perpetual blush. She glanced so kindly at me through her long eye lashes, that I could not help taking her hand in mine as we sat side by side, and indeed, I should have ventured on another embrace, if Anna's eyes had not rested upon us at the moment, with a half surprised expression which deterred me. And where, thought I, is my old friend and favourite Charles? But I concluded he was engaged in some one of those mysterious occupations which always separate young men from their families during the morning hours, even if they are neither students nor sportsmen, and that I should see him at the dinner-table. "I hope you have not suffered from cold during your journey at this unpropitious season, Miss Forde," observed Colonel Harwood" Anna, is there a good fire in your aunt's room? We must be careful of our visitor's comforts, you know." "I have no doubt there is, papa," returned Anna, "White seldom neglects her duties." "I went in just before I came down stairs, papa," said Janet, " and saw that everything was comfortable for aunt Margaret." "This is my little housekeeper," said the colonel, putting his hand on Janet's shoulder with a smile. "You will find differences of character in your two nieces. Anna is fond of her books, and Janet studies the details of every-day life. I am no foe to varieties of characterdevelope rather than change, guide rather than check, that has been my system of education. Faults must of course be cured-and they both have their faults: but they have also their peculiarities, and I am by no means prepared to say that those peculiarities are faults." During this speech Anna looked cross and Janet awkward, while I felt it impossible to make any answer whatever, except a little absurd laugh, of which I was ashamed because it was so unmeaning. "All very wise and right, my dear brother-in-law," thought I, "but are you not a little, just the very least bit in the world, pompous? And is it not very unpleasant for your daughters to be described before their faces in that manner?" Somehow or other the conversation flagged after that speech of the colonel's. "Will you not like to dress, Miss Forde - aunt Margaret?" asked Anna after a pause. I acquiesced, and we were quitting the room, when I was checked by hearing my brother-in-law say in his politest tone, "Have you not dropped something. Miss Forde? Here, Janet, take this to your aunt." He stooped, with some difficulty owing to his gouty foot, and lifted my unhappy shoes off the carpet. I was the more annoyed as the parcel had opened, and discovered two or three little last thoughts which I had popped in with the shoes just before starting. He collected with the utmost care a pair of black silk mittens, a paper of pins, some bootlaces, and, alas! that it must be confessed, a small box of corn-plaister, all of which he presented to me with an air of complete unconsciousness. I could scarcely conceal my vexation. Janet could not restrain a burst of girlish laughter; her father turned to her in displeased surprise. The poor child became crimson; but I put my arm round her waist, and drew her out of the room with me, joining the laugh as I did so, for the whole matter was so ludicrous that my annoyance soon gave way to amusement. "Oh aunt !" she began apologetically, when we reached the staircase. "Don't say a word about it, my love," interrupted I; "old maids, you know, are privileged to have oddities, and henceforth I grant you the privilege of laughing at all mine as fast as you find them out. But tell me, where is Charles? I shall see him, shall I not?" Janet's face became gravity itself, and Anna answered "No, he is not at home." "Not at home!" repeated I, in dismay, "but he will return before I go, I hope." "I do not think there is any chance of his being able to do so," replied Anna, shortly. Her manner was so decided, and Janet's eyes had become so tearful since her brother's name was mentioned, that I felt sure there was some mystery behind the scenes, and did not like to say any more. An hour afterwards our little party assembled at dinner. The colonel was the kindest and politest of hosts, but I did not feel very gracious towards him, for I was sure, from Janet's flushed face and timid manner, that she had undergone a lecture on the ill-breeding of laughing at her aunt. Nevertheless, it is evident to me that he is an affectionate father, though, doubtless, somewhat too much of a disciplinarian; both the girls seemed fond though afraid of him, and his manner to the dear little culprit evidently shows that he has forgiven her misdemeanour, after duly reprimanding her for it. I wish with all my heart that he did not think himself such a perfect father, and feel bound to keep up his character on every occasion. Striving after perfection is doubtless right, but constantly trying to act up to an inward self-consciousness of perfection is a very different and a far less pleasant thing. I must take myself to task about my brother-in-law. I am beginning already to find his company a perpetual little provocation to me, and this is both tiresome and ridiculous. I cannot describe what there is about him which I do not like he is kind, hospitable, sensible, and gentlemanlike; but there is a sort of elaborateness and self-consciousness about all he does and says, which I greatly wish I had not observed, because it teases me, and perhaps after all it is only fancy. It seems as if he were perpetually saying in his own mind, "Now I am being the courteous host-now I am going to speak as the kind brother-this must be said with an encouraging bow to Miss Forde-now I am showing by my manuers that I think women have a full right to express their opinions, but delicately conveying at the same time that they should always express them with modesty. I never forget the well-bred gentleman in the affectionate relation, nor the affectionate relation in the well-bred gentleman." Oh, if you could but forget yourself, you would be a very agreeable man! But it is foolish and even ungrateful to think in this manner, and I will put it out of my head if I can. "We are but a small Christmas party," observed the colonel, "I have not yet been sufficiently long at home to renew my acquaintance with the other members of our family, of whom I have lost sight for so many years. I confess that I am fond of family meetings, and always encourage them. They are right, and I generally find that what is right is also agreeable." "You must have been lonely sometimes, when you were abroad," said I. "I think the seasons at which those happy unions are natural and habitual, must be very desolate when you have no familiar faces to gather around you." "It was a deprivation, certainly," returned he, "but I do not think we were lonely. I hope we have too many resources in ourselves and in each other to find any situation lonely. I should be almost as sorry to find my children dependent on society, as disdainful of it." I felt nearly out of patience, but scolded myself for my absurdity, and replied very civilly that I thought he was perfectly right. "I must look to you," he continued, "for information concerning those with whom I hope, ere long, to become personally intimate. You have just been staying with the Bryants, have you not?" I acquiesced, and said a few warm words in praise of those dear creatures. "My girls,” proceeded the colonel, "anticipate much pleasure and profit from the society of their cousins. Anna is looking forward to an acquaintance with Katharine, who must I think be nearly her own age. Is it not so, Anna?" "I really don't know, papa," returned Anna; "I have not the slightest recollection of my cousin Katharine, and I never thought about her age.' "She is five-and-twenty," said I, secretly amused at seeing that the colonel appeared a little disconcerted by this speech. "Do you remember Frederic? He has just been distinguishing himself greatly at college." hear it. And George-he must be growing into a man now-has he not some unfortunate impediment in his speech?" "He stammers a little," answered I, "but we hope it is improving. It will be a great disadvantage to him if he enters the church." "A great deal more may be done towards curing or concealing those little natural defects than people are apt to imagine," observed the colonel, complacently; "I speak from experience. If I were so unfortunate as to stammer, I should assume a slow, and, as it were, explanatory mode of speaking, by which the repetition of the word or syllable would generally be avoided, and in which, when such a repetition did occur, it would seem rather an intentional emphasis, in character with the manner, than an inevitable defect." "Do you think stammering could be cured by such a system, papa?" asked Anna. "I am not prepared to say that it could be cured, my dear," returned her father, "but I believe it might, except in very bad cases, be rendered perfectly inoffensive. In a somewhat analogous case, Í have followed a similar plan myself, with complete success. Since I last saw Miss Forde-" (with a bow and a smile to me) "I have been afflicted with a slight tendency to gout, but by adopting a slower manner of moving, which is certainly not unsuited to my advancing years," [another smile,]" I have so effectually concealed it, that I would venture to say, that no person, unacquainted with the circumstance, would ever guess it: and that Miss Forde herself would be puzzled to decide in which foot the malady lay." By the time he had finished this speech, he had turned to me with an air of modest and triumphant inquiry, and I was once more reduced to my little stupid laugh, for in the first five minutes I had seen as clearly as possible that he had got the gout, that he had it in his left foot, and that he was trying to look as if he had not got it at all. Fortunately his self-complacency on this subject was too secure to be easily alarmed, and he took my short chuckle for a sign of complete approbation. Soon afterwards we rose to quit the dining-room, the Colonel holding the door open for us with profound politeness. As we passed out, he stopped Janet, put his arm round her waist, and kissed her cheek, I suppose, in token of complete reconciliation. After all, he is a good creature, and I like him very much. Anna apologized for leaving me alone with her sister till tea-time. She is learning German, and her master, who has many engagements in Exeter, which is fourteen miles from Duncombe Park, is able to attend her only at this unusual hour. I was not sorry for the opportunity of improving my acquaintance with my youngest and most attractive niece, so we sat down together on the sofa, and in a very short time she was chattering away with innocent freedom, and with a fluency for which I had scarcely given her credit. "But, tell me," said I, after listening with interest to her glowing description of the last year which they had spent at Rome, when, as she observed, she was beginning to be old enough really to enjoy the wonders, and appreciate the advantages, around her, "tell me something about Charles. Was he with you at Rome?" "No," she replied, casting down her eyes, while her face was overspread with sadness; it had all happened before then." "He promised to be clever," remarked the colonel, "though I should have supposed him rather brilliant than solid. He visited us at Nice, during his first college vacation, and I observed, then, a certain tendency to repartee in conversation, a disinclination to the steady pursuit of any discussion, and indeed, in some instances, an apparent incapacity to feel the force of the arguments which were employed against him, which, however natural in so young a man-and I hope I am always ready to make allowances for youth-were more creditable to his wit and imagination than to his judg-paper from her pocket, which she hastily put into my ment." "He has just taken a double first class," said I, as demurely as I could. "Indeed!" replied my brother-in-law, "I rejoice to "It!--what?" inquired I, my curiosity now thoroughly roused. "What is the matter about myfavourite, Charles?" Oh, aunt Margaret, that is just what I wish so much to tell you," returned the little girl; "I have got a letter for you from him," added she, first giving a cautious glance round the room, and then drawing a hand, "but before you read it, I must tell you a little, or you will not understand it. Charles is married." "Married!" repeated I, in utter amazement, yet scarcely able to keep from laughing at the absurdity of the thing that my heedless nephew should be a husband, but thus much I must tell you. I am married to and that he should employ his little sister clandestinely Mademoiselle de Millebrun-she is now my wife, and to convey a letter on the subject to me, his almost she already loves you as a sister-and Anna, too, of unknown aunt, was really altogether so very astonishing, course. But my father is very angry about it, and has and so completely puzzling, that the eagerness with desired me to go away, and refused to see my wife, or which I demanded further information was no more to allow me to see you, my own sisters, again. He says than might have been expected. Janet informed me, he will never forgive me, and though he did not blame that Charles had become attached to a young French Adêle so much, because she is so very young, only lady at Nice, and that, his father's prejudice against an seventeen, he said over and over again, that as long as alliance with a foreigner being absolutely insurmount- he lived, I should never set foot within his doors again. able, he had married her privately, about four years ago. I am afraid he will keep this promise only too strictly, With all the sanguine ardour of his character, he hoped and so I have stolen up stairs to say good-bye to you, that the Colonel would pardon him when the thing and to beg you, as you grow older, never to forget this was irrevocably done, though he never would have per- last conversation-never to forget how much I love you, mitted him to do it. He was wofully mistaken. "Oh, nor that I have told you, that upon my word and aunt Margaret," said the innocent narrator, "I never honour, your new sister, Adêle, is as innocent as a child, shall forget the evening when it all came out. It was and that you must think of her with affection, and very dreadful. Charles had been away for about a never suffer any body to teach you to think unkindly fortnight he pretended it was to make a little tour- either of her or of me. Will you promise me this?' but, in reality, he had gone to be married to Mademoiselle You can fancy how I felt, aunt Margaret, and what I de Millebrun. We were all sitting at tea, when there answered, as well as I could for my tears. I am not was a loud ring at the bell, and the next moment the telling you about myself, you know, but about Charles. door opened, and in he came. He looked odd and He then went on to say, that he was afraid of doing excited, as I afterwards remembered, but at the time I wrong in telling such a child as I was to hide anything was so pleased to see him return unexpectedly, that I from my father, but he did not know what to do, he did not notice it, but jumped up to kiss him, while could not bear to go on without hearing from me and papa said, a little gravely, Why, Charles, you have writing to me. So he settled this plan. We have an old taken us quite by surprise. We have not received any nurse who has lived with us ever since papa married, letter, but I suppose you wrote, to announce that you and who is so fond of Charles that she would cut off were coming?' Papa particularly dislikes surprises of her hand to do him a pleasure. Twice a-year Charles any kind." was to write to me under cover to her, and I was to answer his letter, and trust to her to get it taken secretly to the post-" 6 "I dare say he does," rejoined I, observing that she paused, and I added, in my own mind, they must break in terribly upon those systematic methods of moving and speaking, which he thinks so clever." Janet continued: "It was not right, my love," interposed I; "he should not have done it. I pity him very very much-but, indeed, it was wrong." he could not help answering my letters." "Well, well," said I, inwardly feeling that in poor Charles the boy was truly father to the man, and that he had grown up the same impetuous, warm-hearted creature, governed by impulse rather than principle, that he was at fourteen,-" Well, well, Janet, go on with your story." There is not much more to tell," she answered, Charles made me fetch Anna to wish him goodbye Well, I scarcely know how it all happened, and, "It is more my fault than his," returned Janet, indeed, I hardly understood it, even then, but, after a blushing with earnestness. "In the second letter that few incoherent attempts to talk as usual, he broke quite Charles sent me he told me that he felt he had done desperately into the subject. My dear father,' said wrong, that his conscience was uneasy on the subject, he, will you forgive me for the first disobedience to and that, great as was the sacrifice, he must give up your commands of which I have ever been guilty? hearing from me. But I could not bear it, so I perMy-' here he hesitated,-'you know, my-the strengthsisted in writing to him just the same, and, you know, of my affection for Adèle for Mademoiselle de Millebrun, and,'-My father stood up, and his face was, terrible with anger-it was quite white, and he drew his lips together as if he were almost afraid of speaking. Anna and Janet,' said he, in a very low quick voice, go to your own rooms-I do not choose that you should hear this.' Anna got up, and left the room directly, and I stole after her, quite terrified, for, you know, I love Charles so very dearly, and so I could not help lingering a little, and was just going to take his hand, for sometimes, when papa is angry, he lets me Oh!" said I;-" And Anna-is she very fond of coax him, and is quite kind again. But I did not under- Charles? Why did he not go to her instead of to you?” stand how terribly serious he was now, and I met a "Because," replied Janet, with a little embarrassglance from his eye which frightened me so much, that ment, "he knew Anna would never have agreed to write I dared not stay. Half-an-hour passed-oh, what a to him against papa's wishes-besides, Anna and Charles half-hour it was! I was by myself, and in the dark--I don't know-they used not to be so very fond of I had a kind of feeling that I would not ring for a candle, lest the servants should find anything out, so I sat down on my bed, and cried, I hardly knew why, and tried to hear the sound of their voices in the room below, but I only heard Charles's voice now and then, and that was a bad sign, for when papa is excessively angry, he always speaks low. Suddenly there was total silence; and, a minute afterwards, I heard a step at my door, and a whisper, Janet, are you there?' I ran forwards, and poor Charles clasped me in his arms, and kissed me again and again. I felt his hot tears upon my cheek, and I sobbed, so that I could not speak to him, and he said nothing but Good-bye, my own darling! God bless you!good-bye!'-at last he seemed to make a great effort to control himself, and said to me, hurriedly, and in a whisper, as if he was afraid of being interrupted or overheard, My dearest Janet, you are not old enough to understand all that has happened, each other-they used sometimes to quarrel. But Anna "Does she not know that you write to Charles, then?" asked I, in some surprise. Oh, no, no! I dare not tell her; she would think it wrong, and then she would tell papa directly." "And has she heard nothing of her brother, then, for four years?" cried I, unable to suppress my wonder. "Yes; she has heard of him now and then, through a third person," answered Janet; "Charles and his wife settled at Boulogne-they are very very poor, and he wanted to live as cheaply as possible, but, I believe, he has found the place dearer than he expected. Now, we have a friend near Boulogne, with whom Anna corresponds, and this lady always writes word how Charles is; from her, too, papa and Anna heard of the births of his two children. Anna always gives the letters to papa, but he never makes any comment upon them." "And Colonel Harwood has never shown any signs of relenting? Four years!-It is a long time to be angry with a son." “Why, I am coming to that," said Janet; "it is the strangest part of all. Anna's friend, who wishes well to Charles, has more than once written to say how very poor he is-how much distressed in his circumstances. He has tried to support himself by giving lessons in English, Latin, and drawing, in which he is a proficient; but he got very few pupils, and now he has three persons besides himself to maintain, and he grows poorer and poorer. At first, he could not bear that Adéle should work too, but he has been obliged to give up his objection, and she embroiders, and teaches music, but still they earn very little." Has Adele no relations?" interrupted I. No, none," said Janet. "Her family was well-nigh extirpated at the time of the Revolution. Her mother was its only living representative besides herself, and she died a year after Adele's marriage. I believe her fortune, which is very very small, is all they have to live upon except their earnings." "And his father can bear to know this !" exclaimed I. (To be continued.) THE HISTORY OF GARDENING. "Oh! flowers, My early visitation, and my last At even, which I had bred up with tender hand From the first opening bud, and gave ye names; Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount?" MILTON. THUS has our Poet painted Eve as the earliest gar dener;—and well may we imagine her among the flowers of the newly decorated world, "herself a fairer flower." A modern artist has sculptured Eve at the fountain, surveying with wonder and admiration the beauty with which her Maker had gifted her; we might picture her afterwards among her flowers, while the thought crosses her mind,-"Shall I also fade and be renewed again?" She might then seek Adam, and, while her trembling hand showers at his feet the fading rose leaves, she might ask, "Is all beauty thus doomed to wither?" Her partner guesses not the chain of her thoughts; he has not gazed at the fountain; it is not mere beauty that he admires in her; and, while he tenderly replies to her question, he applies it to the vegetable world only. Yes, this rose which fades in the sunset will be succeeded by the young bud which opens her beauty to the morning beam; to that we shall transfer the admiration of which this faded one is no longer worthy." What a pang to the heart of Eve in these words! Love shall remain though beauty fade, but it shall be transferred; can it be so with her! She feels that she is not as the flowers of the field; deep thoughts enter her mind, bearing with them the first glimpse of that hereafter, the belief in which, although vague and formless, has been held by man in ail ages. Sir Thomas Browne suggests that the love of nature and of gardening was perpetuated through the descendants of our first parents to Noah, the first planter of the renewed world; from which point it may not be uninteresting to trace the history of ornamental gardening and planting to the present day, when our most successful efforts appear to realize Milton's picture of Eden, rather than Sir Thomas Browne's interpretation of the word, an "enclosed field." Abraham planted a grove in Beersheba; Moses gives precise directions for the management of the vine; Solomon was wise in the knowledge of plants. The gardens of Babylon were, doubtless, wonders of grandeur in that country, naturally so bare of trees; they were a tribute of love from Nebuchadnezzar to his Median Queen, who pined for the groves of her native land. Sir C. Rich found one tree among the ruins; an evergreen resembling the lignum vitæ, and not indigenous there. This the Mahometans revere, saying that Ali tied his horse to it at the battle of Hilleh. Babylon became a park for those kings of Persia who succeeded to its ruins after the destruction of the Parthian empire, to keep their wild beasts in. The Persians had gardens from the time of their first king, Mahabad; and Cyrus considered them indispensable appendages of his residences. Sir Thomas Browne, in his "Garden of Cyrus," says, "that monarch planted his vines and trees in straight lines, parallel, or crossing each other, in imitation of soldiers led to battle," and that the custom was the same in India; according to Figuerroa, who was ambassador from the court of Spain to that of Persia, 1617, the royal gardens at Shiraz had this uniformity in modern times. Homer's description of the gardens of Alcinous is well known; in speaking of those of Laertes, he says, "The squadron'd vineyards well thy art declare, Did the peaceful art of planting indeed imitate the royal game of war? These lines of Homer show that the fruits mentioned were then common in Greece, though neither the olive nor pear were indigenous there. Vertumnus may be a wholly fabulous personage; if so, we have the stronger reason to conclude that the arts of planting, pruning, and grafting, were practised at a very early period. Hebe, the wife of Bacchus, may be merely the personification of an attribute too refined for the apprehension of the multitude; but the tradition that she taught her subjects the method of transplanting antiquity of these arts. trees, and of forming flower beds, shows the remote The Greeks were great lovers of nature; that they early understood the management of the olive is known by their legend of Minerva, probably the Neith of Egypt. The "fair clustering" narcissus, and the " gold gleaming" crocus were reckoned among the glories of Attica: the latter flower was, probably, brought from Ionia with the violet, which was so carefully cultivated as to be brought in profusion to the Athenian markets when snow was lying on the ground; roses also were in great favour. Plutarch describes the garden of Academus in his life of Cimon, its planter. The wealthy and luxurious Romans seem to have followed the fashion of earlier nations in laying out their gardens, which were walks between clipped trees bordered by aromatic herbs and flowers, and ornamented by fountains and alcoves, very much in the style which was prevalent in England during the reign of William the Third. The immense towers, artificial sheets of water, and as artificial mountains, which we read of in the gardens of Lucullus, Nero, and others, could not, of perhaps, a Roman garden was usually merely a place course, be imitated by the common people; hence, for the cultivation of such fruits, herbs, and flowers, as were required for domestic purposes. Virgil says, that, had he written of Horticulture, he would not have forgotten the narcissus, the acanthus, the ivy, the myrtle, or the rose gardens of Paestum. Cæsar left his gardens to the Roman people, and they were further beautified by Augustus. Towards the end of the first century the prevailing taste was to have clipped box among myrtles and other plants; cypress trees thus transforined appear in the : paintings found at Herculaneum. In the account of his Tuscan villa, after describing the Hippodrome, which was surrounded by trees, Pliny thus speaks of his garden :"Having passed through these several winding alleys, you enter a straight walk, which breaks out into a variety of others, divided off by box hedges. In one place you have a little meadow; in another the box is cut into a thousand different forms; sometimes into letters expressing the name of the master, sometimes that of the artificer." He then describes a bench "from which water gushes into a stone cistern; and a marble basin of water which serves for a table, the larger supper dishes being placed round the margin, while the smaller ones swim about in the form of little vessels and waterfowl." This is fanciful enough, and less displeasing than the clipped trees. The rose was the favourite shrub with the Romans, and its early flowers were in such request for garlands as to be procured from Egypt, where the warmer climate produced them earlier, till the Roman gardeners found a method of forcing them by plates of tale placed over the bushes, and watering with warm water. Perhaps the roses of Egypt were particularly fine; Cleopatra is said to have paid upwards of 2001. for roses to decorate one supper. The Romans under Augustus carried their passion for flowers to such a degree, that it was found necessary to restrain it by sumptuary laws. Having thus very briefly attempted to give a sketch of gardening up to the period of the greatest grandeur of Rome, we must pass over her decline and fall. The barbarian" came down like a wolf on the fold;" the arts of peace were extinguished; the domain of the noble was pillaged, the hut of the peasant destroyed. It was the third great disruption in the history of the world; the Cushite dispersion, the scattering abroad of the Jewish nation, and now the breaking up of the largest empire of antiquity. Soon a new power arose from the wreck of luxury and riches; ecclesiastical establishments, humble at first, grew by degrees to wealth and power but little inferior to those of the Roman emperors; men withdrew from the world to deserts which they rendered fertile, and to solitudes which they peopled with the humbler works of God. Sovereigns bestowed upon them lands and serfs, in return for prayers and indulgences; the convent flourished if the castle was destroyed; the shaven head walked the land in safety, while the crested helmet was brought low by treachery or assault. The monastery's sheltered bound was the only spot which war spared and rapine respected; the monks, gathered together in holy idleness from distant climes, brought with them the herbs, by aid of which they had been accustomed to perform the duty of healers of the sick; and the royal example of Mithridates, the first to cultivate medical plants, was unwittingly followed by many who had scarcely heard his royal name. The frequent pilgrimages which the monks undertook added to their store of useful herbs; and we may well imagine that the mendicant friars would proudly offer such treasures, in return for the necessaries which they were forbidden by their rule to provide for themselves. At the same time, ornamental gardening was not likely to flourish; for though each secluded brother might delight in the trim-border and verdant turf of his place of recreation, all would avoid any display of elegance or wealth which could tempt the sacrilegious hand of his feudal neighbour. We read of vineyards and orchards in England under the Saxons, but know nothing of gardens. Charlemagne revived gardening in France, by commanding the formation of gardens throughout his dominions, and carefully selecting such plants as were most useful for diet and medicine, which he enjoined should be properly cultivated. Hence the art would probably be introduced into Britain with the Norman Conqueror, as William is called; and we find that Henry the First had a park at Woodstock. Extensive ruins, occupying nearly six acres, have been recently dug up on the Duke of Marlborough's estates, showing that a magnificent Roman villa had formerly stood there, which, probably, our Henry appropriated to himself. During this period there are no distinct traces of the existence of gardens; the fever of monkerrantry (if we may coin a word) spread over Europe, and monarchs joined with Peter the Hermit in leading the infatuated flock to Palestine. There were deeper causes at work than the desire of rescuing the Holy Sepulchre, though the multitude knew them not; but good came forth of evil-many an useful herb and many a fragrant flower do we owe to the Crusades. One monk brought a single root of the saffron crocus in the hollow of his staff, which he gave to his monastery; it increased and spread, till it afforded an important article to the dyer. The earliest chartularies of abbies and monasteries speak of gardens and orchards, and probably our best fruits were brought into the island during the reign of the Norman and Plantagenet lines. With respect to private gardens, Fitz Stephen states that the citizens of London, in the reign of Henry the Second, had gardens to their villas, large, beautiful, and planted with trees. In the reign of Edward the First the cultivation of the garden was extended to the more curious and delicate plants. The young hero of royal romance, James the First of Scotland, in his poem of "The King's Quair," describes the garden of Windsor Castle, as thick set with trees, alleys of hawthorn hedges, and an arbour at each corner with the sharpe, green, swete, juniper." Privacy, or perhaps safety, seems to have been the first object; and in these early times, when to venture beyond the walls which encompassed a baronial castle, would have been an act of temerity in the ladies of the domain, the garden appropriated to their use was defended by walls, as well for safety as for shelter; the space was not large, and there could be no great variety of surface or prospect; vegetables, fruits, and flowers were intermingled, and perhaps the former of these were the objects of most caretul cultivation. Beyond the castle walls lay the chase, an important part of the feudal domain; here the lord and his retinue followed that amusement which was second only to the occupation of war in its excitement of the animal spirits; but of which the females rarely partook, hawking being their more trequent pastime. During the following century the wars of the Roses devastated the land; brother fought against brother, father against son; trade was ruined, and the light of the arts was quenched in blood. Towards the end of the fifteenth century, Leland mentions topiary-work, that is, the cutting of trees into shapes, as much in fashion; the great Earl of Northumberland, whose household consisted of one hundred and sixty persons, "had but one gardener, who attended hourly in the garden, for setting of herbs and clipping of knots, and sweeping the said garden clean." In the reign of Henry the Eighth, the royal gardens of Nonsuch were planted with shady walks, fountains, clipped trees, and pyramids; these ornaments prevailed till the time of Kent. The Reformation brought its benefits and its evils to the art of gardening; the hand of the spoiler came to the convent, its garden was broken up and demolished, or passed to some favourite who cared little beyond the revenues it produced. But its treasures were disseminated abroad; and to this arbitrary act of Henry, we perhaps owe the general culture of many of those vegetables which were supposed to be brought from Holland in his reign, but which may have existed for centuries in the monastic establishments. During the reign of Elizabeth, an Italian, calling himself Melissus, published a volume of Latin poems in English; in one of them, "On the Royal Garden," a labyrinth is described, and the Queen is mentioned as fond of flowers. James the First improved the gardens at Theobalds, which had been made by Lord Burleigh; and Mandelsto, writing in 1640, describes them as a large square, the walls covered with fillery (trellis work), and a beautiful jet d'eau in the centre; he also mentions espaliers. The gardens of this time corresponded in style with the mansion. |