THE HOLLY-BUSH. 151 



in a conspicuous place stands the spreading rho- 

 dodendron, prepared to unfold its exquisite blossoms 

 to the first warm breath of spring. An arbutus of 

 large growth displays its mimic straw-berries, pen- 

 dant among the leaves, where lately shone those 

 elegant white clusters that so remarkably attract 

 the roving butterfly, and the diligent bee. This 

 tree I reckon among the gems of the garden. 

 Farther on, where my rose bushes have well nigh 

 perished from the antique wall, a profusion of ivy 

 flings its straggling shoots downwards from the 

 summit, as if solicitous to occupy the vacant space. 

 There too, the lauristinus flourishes, in full vigour 

 and beauty ; while the dwarf box, well trimmed, 

 edges my flower beds, and trained into shrubs, af- 

 fords a pleasant variety, where the china rose re- 

 tains its pale green leaf, with firm, upright buds, 

 ready to expand in succession throughout the year. 

 The variegated bay occupies a conspicuous post ; 

 and, last not least, the Holly-bush abounds, valu- 

 able as a fence, beautiful in the lustre of its highly 

 polished leaves, sprinkled with berries of vivid red ; 

 and endeared by the sweetest, the purest, the most 

 sacred associations that can interest the mind, and 

 elevate the soul. 



I wish, with all my heart, that the grandsires 

 and granddames of this generation would do some- 

 thing to stem that sweeping tide of oblivious folly, 

 yclept the march of intellect — the progress of refine- 



