Leaves from a Madeira Garden 



ever on the watch to pounce on the means of 

 inter-communication. You have only to sug- 

 gest plague, to whisper small-pox, to hint at 

 yellow fever, as existing in one of them, and 

 until further notice an exceedingly strict 

 quarantine will be imposed by the other. 



We are accustomed — especially such of us as 

 have not visited them — to speak of the Canary 

 Islands as dusty, arid, waterless deserts, lacking 

 the plenteous vegetation of our more favoured 

 island. We sometimes hear with indignation 

 that the Canarians contrast their dry and 

 bracing air with what they impudently term the 

 damp-laden and depressing climate of Madeira, 

 and we are shocked at the abyss of prejudice 

 therein revealed. We admit that our own 

 mountains are only half the height of the Peak 

 of Teneriffe, "whose majestic summit may well 

 be said to support the sky ; which thrusts its 

 snow-clad cone far into the glittering sunlight 

 to serve as a beacon and a guide to the wander- 

 ing sailor." But we are not concerned for the 

 wandering sailor, if such a being still exists ; and 

 who will maintain that the beauties of Nature 

 are to be measured by a foot-rule ? Did not 

 Ruskin hold that the noblest stretch of water, 



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