ON CHINESE GARDENING 21 



Withered leaves, when summer's passed, 

 And the winter's come at last. 

 In the stream that waters it 

 You may note the fishes flit. 

 Some upon the shallows sleep, 

 Others hide within the deep. 

 From the marsh pools on the plain, 

 Hark ! The trumpet of the crane. 

 Listen to her sonorous cry 

 Echoing to the distant sky. 

 Purple hills are seen afar, 

 Where the grindstone quarries are ; 

 And the lapidary's stone, 

 In these mountains found alone. 

 You must all allow, I ween, 

 'Tis a fair and pleasant scene. 



ON CHINESE GARDENING 



(From " The Spectator") 



WRITERS, who have given us an account of China, 

 tell us the inhabitants of that country laugh at the 

 plantations of our Europeans, which are laid out by 

 the rule and line ; because they say, any one may 

 place trees in equal rows and uniform figures. They 

 choose rather to show a genius in works of this 

 nature ; and therefore always conceal the art by 

 which they direct themselves. They have a word 

 it seems in their language, by which they express 

 the particular beauty of a plantation that thus strikes 

 the imagination at first sight, without discovering 



