THE FLOWER GARDEN. 
CHAPTER I. 
The gaudy peacock boasts not in his train 
So many lights and shadows, nor the rain 
Heaven-painted bow, when that the sun doth court her ; 
Nor purple pheasant, while his mate doth sport her, 
To hear him crow, and with a beauteous pride 
Wave his discoloured neck and purple side. 
I have not seen the place could more surprise, 
More beautiful in nature’s varied dyes. 
Lo ! the blue bind-weed doth itself unfold 
With honeysuckle, and both these entwine 
Themselves with briony and jessamine, 
To cast a kind and odoriferous shade. 
Ben Jonson, 
I T is time we found our way into the garden, for there we shall find enough 
of pleasant work to do. No one will expect in these pages a systematic 
treatise on horticulture, or on any one of its many branches; yet we must 
have a chapter on the subject of laying out a garden, if only to serve as a 
