V. 



THE NATURALIST IN HIS VERANDAH. 



TT is May, and I am in the hills. The delights of May 

 in the Himalayas are second only to the pleasures of 

 an English spring. I speak as one with authority, for 

 as I lounge in the verandah my ear is delighted with the 

 homely "caw "of the crow and the pleasant note of the 

 cuckoo. In the distance are visible sun-capped snow peaks 

 rendered quite ethereal by the bluish haze which surrounds 

 them ; near at hand the flowers are at their best. A few 

 late roses remain ; the carnations are in full bloom, honey- 

 suckle entwines the pillars of the verandah in wild pro- 

 fusion. The decided colours of the geraniums, phlox, 

 portulaccas, and nasturtiums form a pleasing contrast 

 to the delicate shades of the sweet-peas, and the scent of 

 the mignonette adds to the charm of the whole. But I 

 must not continue in this strain, or readers will begin 

 to think that this is an advertisement for somebody or 

 other's best seeds one of those concealed advertisements 

 which are now so frequently inflicted upon us, and of 

 which it is difficult to see the use, for on the discovery 

 of the hoax, the reader is so indignant that he vows that 

 no power on earth will make him buy the article in 

 question. If it be a patent medicine he would far rather 

 die than purchase the offending drug. 



This, however, is not an advertisement for seed, hence 

 I shall confine myself to saying that at this season of the 

 year a hill garden is a veritable paradise, and the verandah 

 the throne from which the panorama may best be viewed. 

 Nature is at her best. It is a case of where only man 



