Country, and gives fhrewd Intimations that he does not believe another World. In fhort, Puzzle is an Atheist as much as his Parts will give him leave. He has got a-' bout half a dozen common-place Topicks, into which he never fails to turn the Converfation, whatever was the occafion of it: Tho the matter in debate be about Douay or Denain, it is ten to one but half his Difcourfe runs upon the Unreafonablenefs of Bigottry and Prieft-craft. This makes Mr. Puzzle the Admiration of all those who have lefs Senfe than himself, and the Contempt of all thofe who have more. There is none in Town whom Tom dreads fo much as my Friend Will Dry. Will, who is acquainted with Tom's Logick, when he finds him running off the Queftion, cuts him fhort with a What then? We allow all this to be true, but what is it to our prefent Purpose? I have known Tom eloquent half an hour together, and triumphing, as he thought, in the Superiority of Argument, when he has been non-plus'd on a fudden by Mr. Dry's defiring him to tell the Company what it was that he endeavoured to prove. In fhort, Dry is a Man of a clear methodical Head, but few Words, and gains the fame Advantages over Puzzle, that a small Body of regular Troops would gain over a numberless undisciplined Militia.:

N° 477. Saturday, September 6.

SIR,

C

Hor.

AVING lately read your Effay on the Pleafures of the Imagination, I was fo taken with your Thoughts upon fome of our English Gardens, that I cannot forbear troubling you with a Letter upon that Subject. I am one, you must know, who am looked upon as a

Humourist

.

Humourist in Gardening. I have feveral Acres about my Houfe, which I call my Garden, and which a skilful Gar dener would not know what to cail. It is a Confufion of Kitchin and Parterre, Orchard and Flower-Garden, which lie fo mixt and interwoven with one another, that if a Foreigner who had seen nothing of our Country should be convey'd into my Garden at his firft landing, he would look upon it as a natural Wilderness, and one of the uncultivated Parts of our Country. My Flowers grow up in feveral Parts of the Garden in the greateft Luxuriancy and Profusion. I am fo far from being fond of any particular one, by reafon of its Rarity, that if I meet with any one in a Field which pleafes me, I give it a place in my Garden. By this means, when a Stranger walks with me, he is furprized to fee feveral large Spots of Ground cover'd with ten thousand different Colours, and has often fingled out Flowers that he might have met with under a common Hedge, in a Field or in a Meadow, as fome of the greatest Beauties of the Place. The only Method I obferve in this Particular, is to range in the fame Quarter the Products of the fame Seafon, that they may make their appearance together, and compofe a Picture of the greateft variety. There is the fame Irregularity in my Plantations, which run into as great a Wildness as their Natures will permit. I take in none that do not naturally rejoice in the Soil, and am pleased when I am walking in a Labyrinth of my own railing, not to know whether the next Tree I fhall meet with is an Apple or an Oak, an Elm or a Pear Tree. My Kitchin has likewife its particular Quarters affigned it; for besides the wholesom Luxury which that Place abounds with, I have always thought a KitchinGarden a more pleafant Sight than the fineft Orangery, or artificial Green houfe. I love to fee every thing in its perfection, and am more pleased to furvey my Rows of Coleworts and Cabbages, with a thousand nameless Potherbs, fpringing up in their full Fragancy and Verdure, than to fee the tender Plants of Foreign Countries kept alive by artificial Heats, or withering in an Air and Soil that are not adapted to them. I must not omit, that there is a Fountain rifing in the upper part of my Garden, which forms a little wandring Rill, and adminifters to the

Pleasure

Pleasure as well as the Plenty of the Place. I have fo conducted it, that it visits most of my Plantations; and have taken particular Care to let it run in the fame manner as it would do in an open Field, fo that it generally paffes thro Banks of Violets and Primrofes, Plats of Willow, or other Plants, that feem to be of its own producing. There is another Circumftance in which I am very particular, or, as my Neighbours call me, very whimfical: As my Garden invites into it all the Birds of the Country, by offering them the Conveniency of Springs and Shades, Solitude and Shelter, I do not fuffer any one to deftroy their Nefts in the Spring, or drive them from their ufual Haunts in Fruit-time. I value my Garden more for being full of Blackbirds than Cherries, and very frankly give them Fruit for their Songs. By this means I have always the Mufick of the Seafon in its Perfection, and am highly delighted to fee the Jay or the Thrush hopping about my Walks, and fhooting before my Eye across the feveral little Glades and Alleys that I pafs thro. I think there are as many kinds of Gardening as of Poetry: Your Makers of Parterres and Flower Gardens, are Epigramma tifts and Sonneteers in this Art; Contrivers of Bowers and Grotto's, Treillages and Cafcades, are Romance Writers. Wife and London are our heroick Poets; and if, as a Critick, I may fingle out any Paffage of their Works to com mend, 1 fhall take notice of that Part in the upper Gar den at Kensington, which was at firft nothing but a Gra vel-Pit. It must have been a fine Genius for Gardening, that could have thought of forming fuch an unfightly Hol low into fo beautiful an Area, and to have hit the Eye with so uncommon and agreeable a Scene as that which it is now wrought into. To give this particular Spot of Ground the greater Effect, they have made a very pleafing Contraft: for as on one fide of the Walk you fee this hollow Bafın, with its feveral little Plantations Tying fo conveniently un der the Eye of the Beholder; on the other fide of it there appears a feeming Mount, made up of Trees rifing one higher than another in proportion as they approach the Center. A Spectator, who has not heard this Account of it, would think this Circular Mount, was not only a real one, but that it had been actually scooped out of that hol97. 45.9

low

.

low Space which I have before-mention'd. I never yer, met with any one who had walked in this Garden, who was not ftruck with that Part of it which I have here mention'd. As for my felf, you will find, by the Account which I have already given you, that my Compofitions in Gardening are altogether after the Pindarick manner, and run into the beautiful Wildness of Nature, without affecting the nicer Elegancies of Art. What I am now, going to mention, will, perhaps, deferve your Attention more than any thing I have yet faid. I find that in the Difcourfe which I fpoke of at the Beginning of my Let ter, you are against filling an English Garden with Evere Greens; and indeed I am fo far of your opinion, that I can by no means think the Verdure of an Ever-Green comparable to that which shoots out annually, and clothes our Trees in the Summer-Seafon. But I have often won der'd that those who are like my felf, and love to live in Gardens, have never thought of contriving a WinterGarden, which would confist of fuch Trees only as never caft the Leaves. We have very often little Snatches of Sunshine and, fair Weather in the most uncomfortable Parts of the Year, and have frequently feveral Days in November and Fanuary that are as agreeable as any in the finest Months. At fuch times, therefore, I think there could not be a greater Pleafure, than to walk in fuch a WinterGarden as I have propofed. In the Summer-Seafon the whole Country blooms, and is a kind of Garden, for which reafon we are not fo fenfible of thofe Beauties that at this time may be every where met with; but when Nature is in her Defolation, and presents us with nothing but bleak and barren Profpects, there is fomething unspeakably chearful in a Spot of Ground which is cover'd with Trees that smile amidst all the Rigours of Winter, and give us a view of the moft gay Seafon in the midst of that which is the most dead and melancholy, I have fo far indulged my felf in this Thought, that I have fet apart a whole Acre of Ground for the executing of it. The Walls are covered with Ivy instead of Vines. The Laurel, the Hornbeam, and the Holly, with many other Trees and Plants. of the fame nature, grow fo thick in it, that you cannot imagine a more lively Scene. The glowing Redness of

the

the Berries, with which they are hung at this time, vies with the Verdure of their Leaves, and are apt to infpire the Heart of the Beholder with that vernal Delight which you have fomewhere taken notice of in your former Papers. It is very pleasant, at the fame time, to fee the feveral kinds of Birds retiring into this little green Spot, and enjoying themselves among the Branches and Foliage, when my great Garden, which I have before mention'd to you, does not afford a fingle Leaf for their Shelter.

YOU must know, Sir, that I look upon the Pleasure which we take in a Garden, as one of the most innocent Delights in human Life. A Garden was the Habitation of our first Parents before the Fall. It is naturally apt to fill the Mind with Calmnefs and Tranquillity, and to lay all its turbulent Paffions at reft. It gives us a great infight into the Contrivance and Wifdom of Providence, and fuggefts innumerable Subjects for Meditation. I cannot but think the very Complacency and Satisfaction which a Man takes in thefe Works of Nature, to be a laudable, if not a virtuous Habit of Mind. For all which Reasons 1 hope you will pardon the Length of my present Letter.port

C

I am,

SIR, &c.

N°