108 PETER COLLINSON [1737. 



Now, friend John, I shall turn over [i. <?., the leaf on which he 

 was writing], and never think of the last-mentioned matter, unless 

 thee revives it. 



I wonder thou should be sorry to see such a bundle of white and 

 blue Lilacs. That wonder might have soon ceased, by throwing 

 them away if you had them already. ' But as your neighbours of 

 Virginia, in particular Colonel Custis at William sburgh, who has 

 undoubtedly the best collection in that country, desired some, I 

 thought possibly you might want them, for I never was over to see. 

 However, this shall be a caution, to send nothing but what you 

 write for. But dost thee know that there is both blue and purple 

 Lilacs ? I like thy project of inarching the white and blue toge- 

 ther. I have the five colours of the Althea inarched on one 

 stock, which looks very pretty when in flower. 



That you have Sloe trees enough, when James Logan writ to 

 me for some, is very surprising. I see I must venture to send 

 nothing without orders, for fear you have it already. 



That you have neither Horse nor Spanish Chestnuts, nor French 

 Walnuts, is not I see, to be helped ; for the last ships go before 

 they are ripe, and the first in the spring, when they are rotten. I 

 have kept them till near Christmas, and then put them in a box of 

 sand, and yet they are lost by over wet or over drought. How- 

 ever, as thee art a great judge in these matters, prescribe a way, 

 and I will endeavour to follow it. 



I am glad the Junipers grow. Pray does the English broom 

 grow ? This may be hardier, and endure your climate better than 

 the Spanish. 



It is surprising that your winters kill Wood Sage, for it grows 

 on our high hills, and never suffers. Plant it in cases, and house 

 it, or else cover it well with pea straw at the approach of winter, 

 removing it off in mild days, and covering at nights. I hope the 

 seed will come this year acceptable, for I think I gathered it 

 pretty ripe. 



Dear friend John, I have thine of August 12th, which gives me 

 both pleasure and pain. I dreaded to go on board to see the 

 disaster, and so much labour and pains thrown away by such a 

 swarm of pestilent beetles. As we say by a fine old woman, 

 " There's the ruins of a fine face," so I may say, " There's the 

 ruins of fine flies," and such as I never saw before. Pray next 

 time divide the precious from the vile; I will send thee boxes 



