ON THE OTHER SIDE.— A PLEA FOR SAVAGERY. 197 



anythintr, nor have anything to fear, they seem to 

 me unfeeHng, and hence have Httle interest for 

 me. . . . Those irreofular crardens, which we 

 call English gardens, require a labyrinth for a 

 dwelling." 



" I hate those trees that never lose their foliage" 

 (says Landor); " they seem to have no sympathy with 

 Nature ; winter and summer are alike to them." 

 Says Thomson, 



" For loveliness 



Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, 

 But it is when unadorned adorn'd the most." 



Or Cowley's 



" My garden painted o'er 

 With Nature's hand, not Art's ; and pleasures yield, 

 Horace might envy in his Sabine field." 



Or Addison: "I have often looked upon it as a 

 piece of happiness that I have never fallen into any 

 of these fantastical tastes, nor esteemed anything the 

 more for its beingf uncommon and hard to be met 

 with. For this reason I look upon the whole country 

 in spring-time as a spacious garden, and make as 

 many visits to a spot of daisies, or a bank of violets, 

 as a florist does to his borders or parterres. There 

 is not a bush in blossom within a mile of me which 

 I am not acquainted with, nor scarce a daffodil or 

 cowslip that withers away in my neighbourhood 

 without my missing it." Or Rousseau: "I can 

 imagine, said I to them, a rich man from Paris or 

 London, who should be master of this house, 

 bringing with him an expensive architect to spoil 

 Nature. With what disdain w^ould he enter this 



