233 THE GARDEN. 



of the western sun, came ri[)pling along llie edge 

 of ihe coast, and sported over ihe sands. The 

 conirast was inconceivably fine : never did ocean 

 appear so mighty, nor ' all the grand magnificence 

 of heaven' so imposingly sublime, as when I liad 

 just emerged from tliat labyrinth of neglected 

 flowers and permitted weeds. Yet it was all in 

 keeping: sea and sky most beautifully harmonized 

 with the wide range of tall green shrubs, on which 

 I could look back, or rather down, from the emi- 

 nence : and the many-tinted clouds of sunset ap- 

 peared as the very pallet from whence the flowers 

 had stolen their corresponding hues. I was then 

 a wild young girl, and my feelings were kindled to 

 ihe Ijighest pitch of enthusiasm by the scene : but 

 I hi tie thought that a deserted garden on England's 

 eastern coast, was, in after years, to furnish a Ivpe 

 for the lovely western isle, concerning which I, of 

 course, knew less then I did of Peru or Kami- 

 cliatka. I say of course, because it seems to be 

 a general rule among ns, that young people should 

 know no more of Ireland tlian they can learn by 

 committing to memory the names of its four pro- 

 vinces Hud thirty-two counties ; and old people only 

 what tliey can glean from the newspapers : in 

 proof whereof I will just mention that, four years 

 ago, wanting to refer to an authentic history of 

 Ireland, I went to borrow it from the library of a 

 first rate military public institution, which salaries 



