184 A GARDEN OF PLEASURE 



wear the look of existing here only as 

 specimens. Notwithstanding the unusual 

 warmth, the garden in these late Nov- 

 ember days is dull and sorrowful. Broken, 

 blackened wrecks of past delight, strewed 

 over every part of it, seem to impart a 

 more than common gloom. The sense of 

 1 change and decay/ pervades the very air 

 about us, as we traverse the garden paths, 

 along by the ruined shrubberies and borders, 

 or pass near haunted, grassy ways. 



There is always a certain charm in the 

 curious mosaic of autumn leaves, lying as 

 they fall, this way and that, across each 

 other on every side. Leaves are mostly 

 sure to fall picturesquely, and to die off 

 in fine shades of brown and tawny 

 red. And yet, unless in frosty weather, 

 when they rustle deliciously under foot, 

 there is a feeling of damp discomfort 

 about them ! the leaves of Occidental 

 plane and of American oak shew the 

 most variety of colour : while, the large 

 foliage of polygonum, when withered and 

 scattered about like huge fragments of 

 brown paper, is, I think, downright ugly ! 



