OLD MILLS. 



Even the Sedentary Man must have his rambles ; and within an easy- 

 distance of my abode is a small and remarkably pretty village, with 

 a mill, of which your woodcut this month gives a faithful representa- 

 tion. This has been for years a most flowery spot, where even the 

 experienced gardener may derive some hints from the natural taste 

 and simple contrivances of our friend the Miller. By the side of a 

 broad and deep mill-pond, always filled to the brim with the clearest 

 water, is a gravel-walk, with a verge of turf between it and the 

 stream. On this grassy border are placed at intervals the heads of 

 some picturesque old pollard trees, whose hollows, filled with mould, 

 contain throughout the season a constant succession of gay flowering 

 plants. In early spring the yellow Alyssum and purple Aubrietia, with 

 good bunches of common Heath (E. earned), on sunny days attract 

 the bees (for our Miller is a great apiarian ; and let me tell those who 

 are in that line, that no situation can vie with the Miller's garden). 

 As the season advances, Wallflowers, beautiful Cistuses, the sweet 

 Daphne Cneorum, and the white and purple Candytuft succeed ; and 

 after these, the showy varieties of Verbena, Anagallis, Lobelia, and 

 other half-hardy annuals, amongst which the common Moneywort 

 trails its golden flowers, with here and there a handsome Fuchsia, and 

 tufts of the different stone- crops in every little nook, keep up a blaze 

 of splendour, till November's gloomy curtain drops upon the scene. 

 I am a great admirer of these old pollard heads, either alone on 

 lawns, or mixed up in rock-work ; and think nothing in the way of 

 rustic baskets or stands for holding flowers can come up to them. 

 On the inland side of the Miller's walk, a good selection of Dwarf 



