Spectator 153 



November and January that are as agreeable as 

 any in the finest months. At such times, there- 

 fore, I think there could not be a greater pleas- 

 ure than to walk in such a winter-garden as I 

 have proposed. In the summer season the whole 

 country blooms, and is a kind of garden, for 

 which reason we are not so sensible of those 

 beauties that at this time may be everywhere 

 met with ; but when nature is in her desolation, 

 and presents us with nothing but bleak and 

 barren prospects, there is something unspeaka- 

 bly cheerful in a spot of ground which is cov- 

 ered with trees that smile amidst all the rigors 

 of winter, and give us a view of the most gay 

 season in the midst of that which is the most 

 dead and melancholy. I have so far indulged 

 myself in this thought, that I have set apart a 

 whole acre of ground for the executing of it. 

 The walls are covered with ivy instead of vines. 

 The laurel, the hornbeam, and the holly, with 

 many other trees and plants of the same nature, 

 grow so thick in it that you cannot imagine 

 a more lively scene. The glowing redness of 

 the berries, with which they are hung at this 

 time, vies with the verdure of their leaves, and 

 are apt to inspire the heart of the beholder with 

 that vernal delight which you have somewhere 

 taken notice of in your former papers. It is 

 very pleasant at the same time to see the several 



