THE FLORIST. 93 



roses, and honeysuckles, and the window into my neighbour's or- 

 chard. It formerly served an apothecary, now dead, as a smoking- 

 room ; and under my feet is a trap-door, which once covered a hole 

 in the ground where he kept his bottles. At present, however, it is 

 dedicated to sublimer uses ; having lined it with garden-mats, and 

 furnished it with a table and two chairs, here I write all that I write 

 in summer time, whether to my friends or to the public." Rustic 

 seats, such as that drawn in the last Number of The Florist, appear 

 to be now the most popular form of the arbour ; and I will therefore 

 confine my remarks to their construction and situation, and to the 

 plants best calculated to adorn them. It appears to me a great 

 mistake to place the rustic seat in a damp, sunless corner of your 

 garden — favourite haunt only of the snail and the toad. I like to 

 see them in places not unvisited by the sun ; for at no season of the 

 year is an arbour more tempting than w r hen it is rather too chilly 

 to sit quite in the open air : in the hot days of summer we like 

 moveable seats, and plant ourselves 



" Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch . 

 A broader, browner shade, 

 Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech 

 O'er-canopies the glade ;" 



but never creep into those musty recesses to which I have alluded. 

 Let the aspect of your seat, then, be south-east, south, or west, but 

 by no means allow it to face the chilly north, or the biting north- 

 east. As summer advances, your plants will make you a verdant and 

 fragrant screen ; but no flowers or flowering shrubs will enjoy 

 themselves and dispense their odour in a corner facing the north. 

 How pleasant it is, in May and June, to sit and listen to the black- 

 cap and garden -warbler pouring forth their love-chants ; or after sun- 

 set, if your situation is a fortunate one, to the passionate song of the 

 nightingale in a bush hard by ! 



Now as to the construction. To begin with the ground : let an 

 edging of small pebbles extend about a foot beyond the eaves' drip ; 

 this protects your pillars and the inside of the arbour from the dirt 

 splashed up in heavy rains from the gravel path which I presume leads 

 to your seat. To ensure durability, have a stone curb or step the 

 whole extent of the front, and into this let the upright support or 

 pillars be morticed ; these should be of the trunks of old yew-trees, if 

 you can get them ; but if not, the beautiful grey mossy stems of the 

 larch will answer the purpose. A good pavement may be made of 

 large wood picked out of a baker's faggot-stack, cut into proper 

 lengths, pointed, and then driven into the ground ; by sorting these 

 carefully as to size, a variety of patterns may be made on your floor. 

 For the ornamental tracery between your arches, beware of the pretty 

 peeled branches of oak, so generally used, but so soon doomed to 

 decay ; nothing is more durable or picturesque than the mossy knotty 

 branches of an old apple-tree, and probably you have one that will be 

 the better for thinning. The seat may be of hazel-rods, which pro- 

 duce a pretty light open effect ; but if you prefer comfort to show, 

 use a plain board, and cover it with matting. The back of your 



