And still may tliy tranquil and delicate shade, 
Yield fragrance and solace to me; 
For though all the flowers in my garden should fade, 
My heart will repose upon thee. 
Jane Taylor. 
HAT dear little modest flower, the Jessamine, with its 
milk-white blossoms half hid in the masses of cool 
<t -^* refreshing green, used to adorn the most limited spot, 
in the shape of a garden, that ever I was confined to, 
as a promenade. It was, in fact, merely a gravelled 
walk, raised to the height of a couple of steps above the 
level of the paved court, which formed the rear of some 
premises where I was an inmate. The further side, and 
the extremities of this walk, were bounded by an exceedingly high 
wall; and nothing could have been more ruefully sombre, or more 
widely removed from any approach to the picturesque, had not the old 
wall possessed a mantle of jessamine, the most luxuriant that I 
remember ever to have seen. The slender branches had mounted 
nearly to its summit; then, finding no further artificial support, 
through neglect, which shall presently be accounted for, they bent 
downward, shooting out in unchecked profusion, until the whole space 
might with strict propriety be called a bower. The upper part of the 
wall was more gaudily attired, in all the variations of green moss, 
yellow and blue creepers, and the dark red of the wallflower. Beyond 
these, nothing appeared but a strip of sky. At the foot of the rampart 
some thrifty hand had arranged a narrow plantation of balm, sage, 
parsley, and thyme, so close that the introduction of any other shrub 
was impossible ; of course the old wall possessed the sole claim to the 
designation of a flower-garden; and, circumstanced as I then was, I 
