278 THE PLEASURES OF SOLITUDE AND GARDENING 



the least covering. Here they remain in perfect safety till it is time 

 to force them away in the spring. 



To the testimony of my friend Lorenzo, I beg to add my own. 

 My mode of keeping my own roots is simply this : my house 

 is a double one, having a flight of stairs going up the middle 

 of it from east to west. Under those stairs is a large closet 

 which, during winter, is generally used for keeping potatoes. Upon 

 these, then, I placed my dahlia roots last winter, and while many of 

 mv neighbours lost their all, I had the satisfaction of preserving every 

 root. It is true I have not tried this system for more than two or 

 three years ; but I think the plan that preserved roots in the incle- 

 ment weather of last winter must be a safe one, and therefore I offer 

 the hint to my brother florists. It appears to me that no packing up 

 is necessary if the amateur only has a place sufficiently protected from 

 the frost. My closet is so situated that it has two walls between it 

 and the external atmosphere, and this seems sufficient, without any 

 additional protection. It may, perhaps, also be necessary to say 

 that my bulbs would be about six yards from a kitchen-fire. To the 

 dahlia grower, therefore, I beg to offer this hint in the spirit of 

 friendship and goodwill. 



After spending a happy evening with my friend, as I had often 

 done before, I returned to my own fireside, and soon after resigned 

 myself to the potent sway of — 



" Tii'd Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep 



Fellon Bridge End, November 9th, 1841. 



ARTICLE VIII. 



THE PLEASURES OF SOLITUDE AND GARDENING TO A 

 CONTEMPLATIVE MIND. 



BY MR. WILLIAM HAURISON, SECRETARY TO THE FELTON FLORISTS* SOCIETY. 



" Thus let me live unseen, unknown, 

 Thus unlamented let me die, 

 Steal from the world, and not a stone 



Tell where I lie." — Pope. 



To a contemplative mind, this world presents no sphere so pleasing 

 as a calm and peaceful seclusion in the tranquillizing retirement of 

 solitude. The ceaseless hum which invariably pervades the busy 



