What, though sometimes a parent's heart may bleed,
Or husband mourn, or children left in need,
This potent law, all nature's works obey,

That private must to public good give way."

The following appears preparatory to the departure of a "fallen one," in pursuit of the "military gentleman" who has ruined and

abandoned her.

'In youths' soft spring, in gentle woman's breast,
Like new-fledg'd birds the tender passions rest;
Behind them all, nestles young, timid love,
Alarm'd, and trembling as the wild wood-dove.
But once accustom'd to the fondling hand,
To sweet endearments and caresses bland,
It strengthens in the breeze, that chill'd before,
And learns on eagle's wings aloft to soar,

"Till grown mature, it fears nor winds nor waves,
But, strong as death,' opposing danger braves."

We next come to the Navy, where the author bestows justlymerited censure on the means of recruiting it by press-gangs. We extract the following from the narrative of a wite and mother, whose husband has been torn from her and slaughtered in a victory.

"There was joy

In Bridport streets, and mirth which might employ
Less tortur'd bosoms: great bonfires and songs,
And blazing lights in windows, and the throngs
Sent shouts to heaven. Not so in our sad vale;
Hither that victory brought a different tale.

Oh! wretched, wretched thought! Down in the wave
They threw his naked corpse! He had no grave,
No friend to close his eyes, and none to weep
Over his coffin! Down in the briny deep
They threw him like a dog! sea-monsters tore
His mangled limbs, or to the neighb'ring shore,
The wild sea dash'd them; there was none to save
His dear remains, to lay them in a grave.'
We add this last to our already numerous extracts.
"Oh! can it be, that He, who reigns above,
Who bids all men be join'd in brother's love-
For all are his, and all beneath the skies
To him like one extended parish lies;-
Oh! can it be, when murder'd thousands bleed,
That He can view, and can approve the deed?
When hostile nations pour the impious prayer,
Will He, the God of mercy, lend his ear?
Ah, no! the widow's cries, the orphan's tears,
The dying groans of wounded prisoners,
Shall raise accusing spirits from beneath,

Against the prayer which war and murder breathe."

We now take our leave of this small volume-in-which, though VOL. II. (1836) N) 11.

P

the verse is not always correct, and the rhythm not always harmonious, is combined much merit, and much just censure.

ART. IX.-The Manse Garden. By A CLERGYMAN. Glasgow: Collins & Co. 1836.

It is a thing of much less importance than at first appears, what the nature of a subject may be which a man has to discuss, whether by speech or by pen; yea, be his purpose to entertain the mind of the auditor or reader with delight, or to convey important and useful lessons, or to do both. The effect depends far more upon the man than the subject-matter of his discourse. There are some who turn the richest fields into sterility, by the feebleness of their treatment, and the poverty of their invention. Others again, can invest what is barren and naked, with all the riches and graces of their own minds. The skilful artist, therefore, who can garnish with beauty that which is mean, we may be assured, can set off, with a corresponding style of improvement, that which is in itself attractive; following, according to the dictates of a happy taste, and superior ingenuity, such principles of arrangement in the disposition of parts and of illustration, as communicates to the witness of these displays, the purest satisfaction, and the best sort of instruction.

There are some topics, however, which appear to us to require more skill from the discourser, than even those which, on first thoughts, are deemed mean and sterile. When the subject is of the most trifling or common order, there is scope for the adept to give reins to his imagination, and to prove the judgment with which he can hang all the garniture that is within him, upon a peg. A sofa served Cowper for a stay to his finest poem. But when a theme is announced, which is naturally and quite obviously of the most attractive character-but which, for these very reasons, has been belaboured by every ordinary mind, and hackneyed ad nauscam-something better is required than the fluency and excursiveness of an accomplished and lively speaker or writer; because, he cannot elevate the subject to its proper and natural position, unless he bring to the task originality of arrangement, detail, and illustration. Who, for example, has not talked and heard of, thousands of times over, the beauties and rich productions of a garden, the marvellous varieties in the vegetable world, and the enticements of horticulture? But who, at the same time, now-a-days, expects to be told anything more or better than has nearly as often been repeated before, or which he may not already know? The title at the head of this article may, therefore, be apt to meet with neglect; and, perhaps, in so far as our readers are concerned, the grounds of this neglect would be strengthened, were we now to stop short after announcing the truth in somewhat fuller terms, by declaring

that The Manse Garden" is really a manual of domestic horticulture, such as suits the sphere and scope of farmers, small landed proprietors, the possessors of villas, or clergymen of moderate means, who have glebes or gardens, wherever the medium climate of North Britain extends, including a goodly portion of the south.

A manual of domestic gardening on a small scale! We might, after a little research, name scores of such books; many of them, too, by persons who possessed great practical knowledge, and who had made the art, with every kindred branch, their profound study. What, then, can be expected from a clergyman, who confines himself to a Manse Garden-the horticulture befitting a northern parsonage-that can be worthy of special notice? And yet, as soon as we glanced at the volume, our surmise was, that there was in it something beyond what is every day to be met with. In the first place, the title was neat, plain, and indicative of a simple quaintness, such as we could figure to ourselves became an experienced and observant minister of the Kirk. In the second place, the book was small, delivering the reader "from the killing toil of ponderosity, and from the awe of mystery," as the author himself states it. Next, we found the Address to the Reader appropriate, equally plain with the title, and admirably expressed. And, last of all, the fine and healthful sentiment which perfumed that address, we found richly strewed over every page of the little treatise; a treatise, of which it is difficult for us to say, whether practical instruction, cultivated taste. sound judgment, quaint cheerfulness, or originality of illustration, is most conspicuous. We hesitate not to assure our readers, that this is not only the best manual upon the subject of which it treats, which has ever come under our notice, (and we have perused many such works,) but that its style, spirit, and doctrines, are so happily wedded to one another, that we felt regret when obliged to leave off the perusal of it, before coming to the conclusion, when it first came to hand, and that with the same zest we recurred to it. There is nothing dry nor tame here; nothing fulsome or barren; because, when detailing the simplest rules, enforcing the most practical operations, the author gives out from the overflowings of a heart alive to the beauties and language of cultured nature, and awakens feelings of a corresponding tenderness and elevation in his readers.

or

For the reasons now stated, we confidently predict that the σε Manse Garden" will become a household manual throughout the north. A nation of thinking people, and a nation of gardeners, are to be found there. Already, in that country, how often is the eye of the traveller refreshed by the air of snugness and refinement, which a few trees and shrubs afford to the dwelling-houses of the rural population! Our author has felicitously marked this feature; but he also associates its existence and prevalence with higher considerations. It manifests a certain refinement in taste; and, be

tween taste and morals, he well observes, there is an intimate connexion. In his own peculiar vein, he says, that where about door-steps such ornaments as roses, ivy, and fruit trees exist, which hide the deformity of naked walls, "both wife and children look far prettier than they appear, when seen through broken windows mended with old hats, or met with daubled feet and awkward gait, sliding, or like to slide, off stepping-stones laid in mire. When home is rendered more attractive, the market-gill will be forsaken for charms more enduring, as they are also more endearing, and better for both soul and body. And, Oh! what profusion of roses, and ripe fruits, dry gravel, and shining laurels, might be had for a thousandth part of the price given for drams, which cause at market-places needless stay, and vain or silly bargains, together with the growing vice which ruins all. In proportion as drinking decays, the relish of home will revive; and in proportion as a cultivated taste makes home cheerful, will the safety of morals be secured." This sentiment and lesson, with others of a kindred description, run through every part of the "Manse Garden," carrying with them to the heart convictions as charming, as plants, flowers, and fruits, are beautiful and sweet.

Our clergyman treats of Forest and Fruit Trees, of Vegetables, and of Flowers, in distinct chapters; intermingling many judicious observations, which more properly belong to landscape gardening, in so far as the extent of territory considered by him is concerned, than to horticulture. This was essential to a complete view of his subject, and affords the finest scope for his taste and skill. It is not with the purpose, however, of taking the heart out of the book, or of entering critically into the soundness of its lessons, that we have made it the subject of the present paper; but being strongly impressed with the excellence of the whole, and regarding more extensive and important bearings than those properly embraced by gardening as an art, it is our wish to recommend the book, in the best way that we can, to the community at large, and especially to those who have the smallest patch of garden ground-feeling persuaded, that whoever studies or reads the work, will feel himself bettered by it. Now, by far the best recommendation that can be offered of the " Manse Garden," is to copy some of its paragraphs. We may go to any part of the work for examples. The treatise begins thus:

"Of all the trees in the forest, the native holly is the most interesting and beautiful. Whether young, as a shrub in the garden, or old, as a lonely tree of the mountain, its glowing fruit and glossy leaves, gleaming in the winter sun, prove the delight of all eyes. It allures to its own hurt the mischievous school-boy, it is the laurel of Burns, and the sanctuary of singing birds. Shielding its songsters from the hawk, it shelters them in the storm, and feeds them with its fruit when other trees are bare. It does one's heart good to see the humble blackbird pecking a red berry amidst the falling snow.

The beauty of this tree is justly appreciated, but its use is comparatively neglected. With a little pains and patience, it were capable of altering the whole aspect of the country, and of adding largely to the comfort of every rural abode. For all the purposes of a hedge it is unrivalled; for ornamenting the lawn, or affording shelter and retirement to the pleasure-walk, it has no equal. But lawns and pleasure-grounds may not figure on the pages of so humble a title as The Manse Garden; yet neither must the author's spirit sink because his scope is confined. The first paradise was a garden, and though grandeur may require amplitude, beauty is contented with smaller dimensions. The most touching scenes of nature are often found, not in the wide range of hill and dale, but in the very nook of a glen; and genius may appear in a cabinet picture, as well as in one of the largest canvass. Why, then, may not the manse garden be fair, though the field be small? and why should not art be employed to make it a very delight to its owner, and an object of pleasure to the traveller that passes by? O for a law, originating in the perception of comfort, and self-imposed, .which should make the planting of a few trees an operation as certain as the building of a house! Men would live longer and better for the happiness thus given to their homes; and the sickening sameness of bare hill-sides and of cold blue walls would be changed into a succession of the most pleasing objects. But how often do we find even the manse, or villa of similar rank, devoid of that peculiar charm which arises from partial concealment, and standing almost naked in the blast, though some shelter has been sought by a strip or clump of trees.

"When partial concealment is the object, the holly fulfils the intention of the planter; it casts a deep shade on the stone-work, and, like the dash of the pencil in a good picture, the effect remains unchanged by the changing of seasons; whereas that produced by a deciduous tree, resembles the like effect in a bad picture, whose colours fade and frustrate the design of the artist. Much more, where shelter is sought, has the holly a virtue which belongs not to any other tree. It is usual, by the common mode of planting, to have needless shelter in summer, and none in winter when the want is greatest. Why, said an ancient poet, should music be contrived only to enliven the occasions of mirth, and not rather to sooth those of sadness? And why, with like reason, it may be asked, should such trees be set for shelter as lavish their clothing on the summer months, and leave those of winter to cold and nakedness ?"-pp. 7-9.

But then it may be said, that there is no want of evergreen-trees in strips of plantation, or about gardens, such as Scotch firs, varieties of spruce, and Weymouth pine. These, however, the author insists, are utterly insufficient and inapplicable for continuously beautifying and sheltering the manse or villa, because the time will come, when their under branches fall away, and leave only bare poles in all the lower region, where shelter is chiefly wanted; so that, while in point of taste, such a plantation is downright ugliness, in the situation supposed, in point of utility its condemnation is, that it does not answer the end. But-