FL WER- GARDENS AND SONG-BIRDS. 503 



and the bramble, with a train of noxious attendants, would lord it all 

 around. To the industry, then, of the gardener we are indebted for 

 scenes of rural beauty, quite unparalleled ; and to his science we owe 

 the possession of every wholesome fruit and root. In times, too, now 

 long gone by, ere the ruthless Reformation smote this land, the gar- 

 dener's nomenclature was truly Christian; for scarcely a flower, or shrub, 

 or root, was known, the name of which did not tend to put us in mind of 

 future happiness in the realms of eternal bliss. Hence the gardener 

 is my friend ; and wherever I have an opportunity of surveying lands 

 which bear marks of his interesting labours, I wish him well from my 

 heart, and I hope that he may not fail to receive a remunerating 

 return for his many useful services to us. Were I asked my opinion 

 of a highly-cultivated English flower-garden, I should say that it is 

 the loveliest sight in rural nature ; and, moreover, that if it afforded 

 me an opportunity of listening to the song of birds, I should pro- 

 nounce it little short of absolute perfection. But, in general, the 

 charming melody of birds is of rare occurrence in the modern flower- 

 garden ; and I fear that any observations which I may make on this 

 head will not have sufficient weight with them to attract attention to 

 it on the part of the horticulturist. Nevertheless I will venture for 

 once to offer a remark or two on a subject which always interests me ; 

 and, if what I shall say does not meet with general approbation, may 

 I hope that my readers will give me credit for good intentions. I 

 wish not to appear dictatorial. A few brief observations, penned 

 down without the least intention on my part to be considered in the 

 light of an innovator, will, I trust, not be wholly lost. 



To me, whom kind Providence has destined to spend the best part 

 of my time in the open air, the song of birds is soothing beyond ex- 

 pression ; and whilst I am admiring the beauty of the rising flowers 

 around me, I know no greater addition to my gratification than that 

 of listening to it. How enchanting it is to inspect the early snow- 

 drops, those " fair maids of February/' whilst the stormcock is pour- 

 ing forth his newly-acquired notes from the top of a neighbouring 

 elm ! and how delightful it is to hear cock-robin's carol on the thorn 

 that affords a shelter to the humble primrose ! The lilly of the valley, 

 too, sweet, lovely, lowly daughter of May, how I gaze in ecstasy on 

 its virgin whiteness, whilst the stranger cuckoo's note sounds through 



