204 A BOOK ABOUT THE GARDEN. 



man from the irrational world, that is surely one of 

 the most noble which teaches him to appreciate the 

 works of God. 



Oxford, had she deserved in my case the title of 

 " gentle mother," would have removed the bandage 

 from mine eyes, but, on the contrary, she rather 

 tightened it. We had, it is true, a Professor of 

 Botany, but he might as well have resided at Botany 

 Bay for anything we saw or knew of him. There 

 was a garden too, attached to our college, but nothing 

 was ever sown in it, save wild oats and exhausted 

 " weeds " ; and I can only remember a single window 

 which was beautified with flowering plants, and this 

 " because " (as I was assured on inquiry, though I 

 was quite unable to understand the inference) " the 

 occupier was going over to Eome." We went 

 regularly enough to the Commemoration Flower 

 Shows, but it was something which Mr. Turner would 

 himself allow to be more attractive than his grand 

 pelargoniums, which took us there in our dandy suits. 

 There was a brightness even brighter than the 

 glowing flowers, there were tints more roseate than 

 the Eose's self, which won our earnest gaze. Very 

 different were our exclamations and inquiries then 

 as we entered the Exhibition tents to those which we 

 utter now. Instead of " Look at that fern ! " " What 

 lovely orchids! " " Who has won the cup ? " it was, 

 " Have you seen little Jack Thompson's sister ? a 

 screamer, sir, a perfect screamer ! " (the dissyllable 

 "screamer" was meant to indicate a maiden of 

 peerless beauty), or, "Did you ever see such a dear 

 little duck as that in the lavender bonnet ? " 



