of Kitchen and Parterre, Orchard and Flower-Garden, which lie so 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 first landing, he would look upon it as a natural Wilderness, and one of the uncultivated Parts of our Country. My Flowers grow up in several Parts of the Garden in the greatest Luxuriancy and Profusion. I am so far from being fond of any particular one, by Reason of its Rarity, that if I meet with any one in a Field which pleases me, I give it a place in my Garden. By this means, when a Stranger walks with me, he is furprized to see several large Spots of Ground cover'd with ten thousand different Colours, and has often singled out Flowers that he might have met with under a common Hedge, in a Field or in a Meadow, as some of the greatest Beauties of the Place. The only Method I observe in this Particular, is to range in the same Quarter the Products of the fame Season, that they may make their Appearance together, and compose a Picture of the greatest Variety. There is the same Irregularity in my Plantations, which run into as great a Wildness as their Natures will permit. I take in none that do not naturally rejoyce in the Soil, and am pleased when I am walking in a Labyrinth of my own raifing, not to know whether the next Tree I shall meet with is an Apple or an Oak, an Elm or a PearTree. My Kitchen has likewise its particular Quarters assigned it; for besides the wholesom Luxury which that Place abounds with, I have always thought a KitchenGarden a more pleasant Sight than the finest Orangery, or artificial Greenhouse. I love to see every thing in its Perfection, and am more pleased to furvey my Rows of Coleworts and Cabbages, with a thousand nameless Potherbs springing up in their full Fragrancy 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 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 same manner as it would do in an open Field, so that it generally paffes passes thro' Banks of Violets and Primroses, Plats of Willows, or other Plants, that seem to be of its own producing. There is another Circumstance 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 suffer any one to destroy their Nests in the Spring, or drive them from their usual 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 Musick of the Season in its Perfection, and am highly delighted to see the Jay or the Thrush hopping about my Walks, and shooting before my Eye across the several little Glades and Alleys that I pass thro'. I think there are as many kinds of Gardeningas of Poetry: Your Makers of Parterres and Flower-Gardens are Epigrammatists and Sonneteers in this Art; Contrivers of Bowers and Grotto's, Treillages and Cascades, are Romance Writers. Wife and London are our heroick Poets; and if, as a Critick, I may fingle out any Passage of their Works to commend, I shall take notice of that Part in the upper Garden, at Kensington, which was at first nothing but but a a Gravel-Pit. It must have been a fine Genius for Gardening, that could have thought of forming such an unsightly Hollow into so 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 pleasing Contrast: for as on one Side of the Walk you see this hollow Bafin, with its several little Plantations lying so conveniently under the Eye of the Beholder; on the other Side of it there appears a seeming Mount, made up of Trees rifing one higher than another in proportion as theyapproach the Centre. 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 hollow Space which I have before mention'd. I never yet met with any one who had walked in this Garden, who was not struck with that Part of it which I have here mention'd. As for my self, you will find, by the Account which I have already given you, that my Compositions 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 deserve your Attention more than any thing I have yet faid. I find that in the Difcourse which I spoke of at the Beginning of my Letter, you are against filling an English Garden with Ever-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-Season. But I have often wonder'd that those who are like my self, and love to live in Gardens, have never thought of contriving a Winter-Garden, which would consist of such Trees only as never cast their Leaves. We have very often little snatches of Sunshine and fair Weather in the most uncomfortable Parts of the Year, and have frequently several Days in November and January, that are as agreeable as any in the finest Months. At such times, therefore, I think there could not be a greater Pleasure, than to walk in such a Winter-Garden as I have proposed. In the Summer-Season the whole Country blooms, and is a kind of Garden, for which Reason we are not so sensible of those Beauties that at this time may be every where met with; but when Nature is in her Desolation, and presents us with nothing but bleak and barren Prospects, there is something 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 most gay Season in the midst of that which is the most dead and melancholy. I have so far indulged my felf in this Thought, that I have set apart a whole Acre of Ground for the executing of it. The Walls are covered with Ivy instead of Vines. The Laurel, the Horn-beam, and the Holly, with many other Trees and Plants of the fame nature, grow so thick in it, that you cannot imagine a more lively scene. The glowing Redness of the Berries, with which they are hung at this Time, vies with the Verdure of their Leaves, and are apt to inspire the Heart of the Beholder with that vernal Delight which you have somewhere taken notice of in your former Papers. It is very pleasant, at the fame Time, to see the several kinds of Birds retiring into this little green Spot, and

A

and enjoying themselves among the Branches and Foliage, when my great Garden, which I have before mention'd to you, does not afford a single 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 Calmness and Tranquility, and to lay all its turbulent Passions at reft. It gives us a great Infight into the Contrivance and Wisdom of Providence, and suggests innumerable Subjects for Meditation. I cannot but think the very Complacency and Satisfaction which a Man takes in these Works of Nature, to be a laudable, if not a virtuous Habit of Mind. For all which Reasons I hope you will pardon the Length of my present Letter.

I am,

I

Ufus

Quem penes Arbitrium eft, & Jus & Norma

Mr. SPECTATOR,

:

T happened lately that a Friend of mine, who had many Things to buy for his Family, would oblige me to walk with him to the Shops. He was very nice in his way, and fond of having every thing shewn, which at first made me very uneasy; but as his Humour still continued, the Things which I had been staring at along with him, began to fill my Head, and 'led me into a Set of amusing Thoughts concerning them.

I FANCIED it must be very furprizing to any one who enters into a Detail of Fashions, to confider how far the Vanity of Mankind has laid it self out in Dress, whata prodigious number of People it maintains, and what a Circulation of Money it occafions. Providence in this Cafe makes use of the Folly which we will not give up, and it becomes instrumental to the Support of those who are willing to labour. Hence it is that Fringe-makers, Lace-men, Tire-women, and aNumber of other Trades, which would be useless in a fimple State of Nature, draw their Subsistence; tho' it is seldom seen that such as these are extremely rich, because their original Fault of being founded upon Vanity, keeps them poor by the light Inconstancy of its Nature. The Variableness of Fashion turns the Stream of Business which flows from it now into one Channel, and anon into another: so that different Sets of People fink or flourish in their turns by it.

FROM the Shops we retir'd to the Tavern, where I found my Friend express so much Satisfaction for the Bargains he had made, that my moral Reflections (if I had told them) might have pass'd for a Reproof; so I chose rather to fall in with him, and let the Discourse run upon the Use of Fashions.

HERE We remembred how much Man is govern'd by his Senfes, how lively he is struck by the Objects which appear to him in an agreeable manner, how much Clothes contribute to make us agreeable Objects, and how much we owe it to ourselves that we should appear so.

WE confidered Man as belonging to Societies; Societies as form'd of different Ranks; and different Ranks diftinguished by Habits, that all proper Duty or Respect 'might attend their Appearance.

We took notice of feveral Advantages which are met with in the Occurrences of Conversation. How the bashful Man has been sometimes so rais'd, as to express himself with an Air of Freedom, when he imagines that his Habit introduces him to Company with a becoming manner : And again, how a Fool in fine Clothes shall be suddenly heard with Attention, till he has betray'd himself; whereas a Man of Sense appearing with a Dress of Negligence, shall be but coldly received, till he be proved by Time, and established in a Character. Such Things as these we could recollect to have happen'd to our own Knowledge so very often, that we concluded the Author had his Reasons, who advises his Son to go in Dress rather above his Fortune than under it.

Ar last the Subject seem'd so confiderable, that it was proposed to have a Repository built for Fashions as th VOL. VII.

B