II20 



THE. NATURE BOOK 



Photograph by Pictcrial A:^€iuy. 



CilAKTEKHOUSE GARDENS. 



tedded, and, for aught I know, stacked. 

 It must be admitted, however, that I 

 never saw the rick. 



Most of the trees owe their preservation 

 to their connection with the Church ; 

 they have "taken sanctuary" in the 

 churchyards. Eminent amongst these is 

 Wordsworth's Wood Street Plane, that 

 used, before the devastating saw was 

 laid to its branches, to stretch its hands 

 out over the two httle dusty houses 

 " erected at ye sole costs and charges of 

 St. Peters, Cheape : Ao. Dni. 1687," 

 and fill a gap in the Cheapside builcUngs 

 with green leaves. Stationers' Hall Court 

 is a blank and stony place, but how is it 

 transformed in summer by the lofty 

 tree which roofs it in with green ! 



Close at hand hes the cloistral seclusion 

 of Amen Court, where decorous old houses 

 are draped with creepers, and where 

 the grass seems younger and greener for 

 the Cathedral sobriety all around. The 

 largest tree, though apparently healthy, 

 leans and droops with a languf)rous grace ; 

 and I love a leaning tree, one which, follow- 

 ing not too hardly the strenuous aA astra, 

 chooses to love the world, the green earth 

 which is its mother and ours, and will 

 stoop tf) listen to the whisper of the 



grass, and to toy with the lowly flowers 

 of the field. 



The charm ot monastic calm possesses 

 still the old garden of the Charterhouse ; 

 the garden which has witnessed many 

 years of peace, and one of bitter tragedy. 

 The walls are crumbling as old walls should 

 crumble, but against them " the fig tree 

 puts forth her green leaves, and the 

 vines give a good smell." Old mulberry 

 trees are there, and young walnuts — 

 proper ornaments for ancient and courtly 

 places ; and a lovely sward, that makes 

 a smooth green coverlet for the narrow 

 beds of Priors and Canons long asleep. 



Londoners are proverbially careless of 

 the sights of London, and because the 

 trees are always with us we hardly look 

 at them, and the unspeakable debt which 

 is owed to the plane, as the tree of London, 

 is rarely acknowledged, nor any general 

 meed of admiration paid to its serviceable 

 grace. Some, indeed, there are who 

 depreciate this good friend and citizen ; 

 who call it ungainly, coarse and " weedy " ; 

 who make ungracious comparisons, and 

 refer to its invaluable characteristic of 

 bark shedding as an untidy habit. Those 

 who thus dis])arage the plane have surely 

 failed to notice some of its special and 



