MY GARDEN ACQUAINTANCE. 



ONE of the most delightful books in my father's 

 library was White's Natural History of Selborne. 

 For me it has rather gained in charm with years. I used 

 to read it without knowing the secret of the pleasure 1 

 found in it, but as I grow older I begin to detect some of 

 the simple expedients of this natural magic. Open the 

 book where you will, it takes you out of doors. In our 

 broiling July weather one can walk out with this genially 

 garrulous Fellow of Oriel and find refreshment instead of 

 fatigue. You have no trouble in keeping abreast of him 

 as he ambles along on his hobby-horse, now pointing to a 

 pretty view, now stopping to watch the motions of a bird 

 or an insect, or to bag a specimen for the Honourable 

 Daines Barrington or Mr. Pennant. In simplicity of 

 taste and natural refinement he reminds one of Walton ; 

 in tenderness toward what he would have called the brute 

 creation, of Cowper. I do not know whether his descrip 

 tions of scenery are good or not, but they have made me 

 familiar with his neighborhood. Since I first read him, 

 I have walked over some of his favorite haunts, but I 

 still see them through his eyes rather than by any recol 

 lection of actual and personal vision. The book has also 

 the delightfulness of absolute leisure. Mr. White seems 

 never to have had any harder work to do than to study 

 the habits of his feathered fellow-townsfolk, or to watch 

 the ripening of his peaches on the wall. His volumes are 

 the journal of Adam in Paradise, 



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