MAY. 131 



Cottage gardens are now perfect paradises ; 

 and, after gazing on their sunny quietude, their 

 lilachs, peonies, wall-flowers, tulips, anemonies 

 and corcoruses with their yellow tufts of flow- 

 ers, now becoming as common at the doors of 

 cottages as the rosemary and rue once were 

 one cannot help regretting that more of our 

 labouring classes do not enjoy the freshness of 

 earth, and the pure breeze of heaven, in these 

 little rural retreats, instead of being buried in 

 close and sombre alleys. A man who can, in 

 addition to a tolerable remuneration for the 

 labour of his hands, enjoy a clean cottage and 

 a garden amidst the common but precious offer- 

 ings of nature ; the grateful shade of trees and 

 the flow of waters, a pure atmosphere and a 

 riant sky, can scarcely be called poor. 



If Burns had been asked what was the 

 greatest luxury of May, I suppose he w r ould 

 have quoted from his " Cotter's Saturday 

 Night." 



If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, 

 One cordial in this melancholy vale, 

 Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair 

 In other's arms breathe out the tender tale 

 Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening 

 gale. 



K2 



