286 THE PLEASURES OF SOLITUDE AND GARDENING 



exertions of the most patriotic statesman. What though the un- 

 ambitious and retired are deprived of some of the elegancies of 

 fashionable life and of many of the advantages which rank and riches 

 can command at will, as they sit down contentedly in their cottages 

 covered with straw and satisfied with a limited competence ? They 

 feel, in calmly resigning the world and all its gaudy joys to those who 

 more eagerly enjoy the intoxicating draught, that they are abandoning 

 the shoioy for the solid enjoyments of life ; and that, by having learnt 

 to be content with a little, their fears for the coming events of future 

 years have entirely vanished, and that the principles they have 

 acquired in the bosom of solitude have emptied the quiver of adversity 

 of all its envenomed shafts. What though they labour for a com- 

 petence in the retired vale of obscurity, and the approval of future 

 generations may never be pronounced upon their humble deeds ? They 

 feel that 



-There's a joy, 



To the fond votaries of fame unknown ; 

 To hear the still small voice of conscience speak 

 Her whispering plaudits to the silent soul. 

 Heaven notes the sigh afflicted goodness heaves, 

 Hears the lone plaint by mortal ear unheard, 

 And from the cheek of patient sorrow wipes 

 The tear by mortal eye unseen, or scorned." 



Such must have been the feelings which pervaded the bosom of an 

 eloquent and pathetic modern writer, when he wrote " The Wish," 

 from which the following description of the pleasures of retirement is 

 not inappropriately extracted. " If I might hope from fate the 

 fulfilment of my only wish, I would not desire the superfluities of 

 wealth, nor dominion over my fellow-creatures, nor to spread my fame 

 in distant countries. I would wish to retire from the bustle of a town, 

 where a thousand snares are laid for the virtuous, where custom has 

 established a thousand follies, into rural solitude, and to pass my days 

 in my cottage and little garden, unenvied and unknown. In the 

 shady trees around the cottage, the birds should dwell in undisturbed 

 repose and sing responsive from tree to tree. Behind my house should 

 extend my spacious garden, where obedient art should lend its willing 

 aid to perfect and improve the pleasing designs of Nature. A hedge 

 of hazels should enclose it, and in each corner should stand a vine- 

 covered bower. Thither would I often repair, to avoid the scorching 

 heat or to sec the sun-burnt gardener turning up the soil, to sow in its 



