approach the centre. A spectator who has not heard of 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 mentioned. 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 mentioned."

It was about this time that there arose in different quarters a more natural taste in gardening, and which, as the commencement of our present system, has excited considerable interest and a great deal of not very conclusive discussion. One of the sources to which this taste is attributed by foreigners is odd enough-the Chinese; but our own poets seem much better entitled to whatever amount of credit may be justly assignable to any particular quarter. From Bacon downwards, we find them exercising a steady and growing influence to this end. That greatest of prose-poets expressly inculcated the adding to our gardens rude or neglected spots as specimens of wild nature, and he placed gardening on a higher elevation than was dreamed of by any one else in his time in the passage, "When ages do grow to civility and elegance, men come to build stately sooner than to garden finely, as if gardening were the greater perfection." Waller, at his residence at Beaconsfield, is said to have presented more than usual evidences of natural taste. Addison is the author of the paper On the Causes of the Pleasures of the Imagination, arising from the works of Nature, and their superiority over those of Art,' which appeared in 1712; and Pope, of that in which the verdant sculpture school is unmercifully attacked in the 'Guardian.' In his epistle to Lord Burlington he laid down the opposite principles that were to be cultivated, the study of nature, the genius of the place, and never to lose sight of good sense.

The first artist who appreciated and accepted the new faith was Bridgman, who banished verdant sculpture from the royal gardens, introduced "ha-has" instead of walls for boundaries, and portions of landscape scenery, in accordance with Bacon's ideas, but the clipped alleys were still left to be clipped. Queen Caroline, the wife of George II., was the boldest improver of Kensington Gardens. Under the superintendance of Bridgman, they were enlarged, by the addition of no less than three hundred acres taken out of Hyde Park, and the Serpentine was formed from a series of detached ponds.

Along the line of the ponds a canal was begun to be dug. The excavation was four hundred yards in length and forty feet deep, and cost £6000. At the south-east end of the gardens a mount was raised of the soil dug out of the canal. On the north and south the grounds, of which these works formed the characteristic features, were bounded by high parallel walls. On the north-east a fosse and low wall, reaching from the Uxbridge Road to the Serpentine, at once shut in the gardens, and conducted the eye along their central vista, over the Serpentine to its extremity, and across the park. To the east of Queen Anne's gardens, immediately below the principal windows of the east front of the palace, a reservoir was formed into a circular pond, and thence long vistas were carried through the woods that circled it round, to the head of the Serpentine; to the fosse and low wall, affording a view of the park, and to the mount constructed out of the soil dug from the canal. This mount was planted with evergreens, and on the summit was erected a small temple, made to turn at pleasure, to afford shelter from the wind. The three principal vistas were crossed at right angles, by others at regular intervals—an arrangement which has been complained of as disagreeably formal, with great injustice, for the formality is only in the ground plot, not in any view of the garden that can meet the eye of the spectator at one time. Queen Anne's gardens underwent no further alteration than

was necessary to make them harmonise with the extended grounds, of which they had now become a part.

In our own days, several changes have been made in the gardens, with a view to the greater public enjoyment of them. The chief of these is an exquisite walk of flowers and shrubs, extending from the central avenue, along the southern boundary of the gardens. The numerous plants are distinguished by inscriptions, bearing their botanical and common names,-the country where they are indigenous,-and the date of their introduction. Here, then, may lessons of botany be acquired in the pleasantest manner; and those who come to "recreate themselves," find practical instruction.

An imaginative writer in 'The Land we live in,' has thus described the effects upon his mind of Kensington Gardens in their summer beauty:-"It was an evening in July; one of those wondrously rich glowing sunsets which bathe the world in glory, when we found ourselves wandering through Kensington Gardens. Suddenly we came out in front of those grand old cedars of Lebanon, which so richly darken the green sward in the western part of the gardens, near the palace, in one of its most lovely and least-frequented spots. The gorgeous light was fully upon them at their tops, while beneath you saw through long and low vistas, far away in the distance, stretching along and touching the ground, a line of rosy light, of the loveliest conceivable hue, and barred perpendicularly by the black slender-looking tree trunks. As we turned away, after a long, silent, reverential study of the scene in that direction, another of a different kind arrested the eye. An artist was at work upon those cedars, aiming doubtless to catch and fix for ever that wondrous combination of form and colour which they then presented. He was seated on a low portable gardenstool, and leaned his back against one of the garden seats, on which sat a lady, with a book in her hands, and with her head bending down towards him, reading in a low and musical voice-what, we knew not, nor cared to know; it could not be more beautiful or suggestive to the heart and mind of man than the scene in which they were, and to which their appreciation of it, so luxuriously complete, lent a new charm. And then it was that once more dawned upon us a fresh sense of the particular beauty of these gardens, and of the privilege which all may enjoy of walking in them, as well as of the apparent unconsciousness of so many men and women who might benefit by them,—of what they lose by their neglect to do so.

"We strolled on through the flower-walk, with its choice collection of trees and shrubs, and felt that we never saw so plainly before the peculiar beauties and characteristics of each; we ranged in vision over the sylvan glades on the left, climbed in the same way the magnificent trees, and were again arrested by the scene—unequalled surely anywhere-that presented itself at the castern extremity of the gardens, where you look over the low wall, with its sunken fosse, or ha-ha! beyond to the well-known Rotten Row, that divides the gardens from the park. In that road, ranged in almost military precision and silence, was drawn up a long line of horsemen and horsewomen, who had quitted for the moment the army of mounted irregulars to which they belonged, and who kept sweeping to and fro in the rear: our modern domestic chivalry-in a word, the flower of the male and female aristocracy of England. Inside and lining the garden wall, and thus protected from any sudden inroad from the "Row," or promenading up and down the broad walk, or thickly covering the green lawn on the left, or grouped picturesquely a little farther off, or scattered more and more sparingly as the eye compassed a greater distance, wo looked upon hundreds of fair women, arrayed in colours sportive and brilliant and varied as the rainbow, and which would have been almost as harmonious, but for the

ugly black forms called gentlemen, that, in painter's language, spotted the picture all over. And what was the charm that arrested alike promenaders and equestrians? What but the lovely strains of Mozart's 'Magic Flute,' exquisitely performed by one of the household regiments? And this too, we thought, is the people's! Twice a week may they here enjoy one of the highest of all human pleasures, and benefit by one of the highest of all those influences that tend to spiritual culture-they may hear divine music, worthily rendered, and in a spot so congenial that we need only contrast it with the theatre, or with the expensive and fashionable concert-room, to see that the poorest of amateurs is not also in this matter one of the most unfortunate.

"Pursuing our walk, we reached the bridge, where a new aspect of beauty wooed us. The waters of the Serpentine were dancing, every here and there, in long trails of light; the wide stretches of green sward that encompass the river were lustrous with the new life that had been given by recent rains; the lofty forest trees seemed to dilate to an unusual magnitude their glorious bulk; white sails were gliding to and fro; while from boats with low picturesque awnings, the pleasant sound of uproarious laughter ascended at intervals. As evening drew on, bands of youths and men gathered upon the water's edge, and gradually became the sole occupants of the place, for bathing commenced. Again the thought occurred with renewed forceand these health-giving, these truly manly enjoyments can be enjoyed by all, under circumstances of beauty and fitness that the richest nobleman in the land cannot in essentials surpass."

ROYAL BOTANIC GARDENS, REGENT'S PARK.

"The Royal Botanic Society of London" was incorporated by a Royal Charter in 1839, for the "promotion of Botany in all its branches, and its application to Medicine, Arts, and Manufactures; and also for the formation of extensive Botanical an Ornamental Gardens within the immediate vicinity of the Metropolis." The Society consists of Fellows, who pay an admission fee of five guineas, and an annual subscription of two. There are three annual exhibitions in May, June, and July, at which prizes are given, and the gardens are crowded with visitors. The grounds in the Regent's Park, which are bounded by what is known as the Inner Circle, consist of eighteen acres, which were previously in the possession of a nurseryman, and then formed an almost level surface, the only noticeable deviation being the slight slope of the ground westward. In stepping into the grounds, now, the change is truly surprising, and we do not know where our readers could more readily obtain a practical example of what may be done in picturesque landscape gardening, on the most unpromising site. As we enter, on one of the Wednesday evenings devoted to the promenade, as it is called, a pretty rustic screen of ivy intercepts, for a moment, the view of the interior, which passed, we find ourselves on a very broad gravel walk, adorned with large vases on pedestals, and terminated by the glass Winter Garden. As we pace along this walk we have, on the right, a picturesque-looking mound rising to some considerable elevation from the midst of the irregular grounds about its base, and on the left, lawns and shrubberies, behind which the winding walks disappear into the lower grounds beyond, where occasional glimpses may be obtained of a brilliant parterre of flowers. "The mount, at least, is not artificial," we have heard visitors say; but it so happens that not only that, but another of the chief features of the gardens-the fine piece of water close by the mount, show, somewhat

amusingly, how these things may be managed. The soil dug out of the bed of the water would have been an expensive article to remove, so it was thrown up close by, and behold, the materials of the mount; then there was a difficulty as to filling the vacant hollow, and it was in serious contemplation to obtain a supply from some of the water companies, when a few heavy falls of rain settled that matter, and the lake was created.

Turning now to the right, the walk leads us beneath the shade of a magnificent tree, brushing the ground on all sides with its drooping branches; and thence onward to certain portions of the grounds laid out in gracefully-shaped patterns which, though yet but very incompletely furnished, are, rightly considered, the most important if not the most interesting departments of the place. That large piece of ground, forming a spiral, is for the reception of plants used, or useful, in medicine; and the student who begins at one end of the spiral will find the different orders are all arranged systematically, according to the improved natural system of De Candolle. Another piece of ground here is devoted to the collection of the chief agricultural plants. But the most generally attractive of the whole will be the garden of hardy plants from all parts of the world, which already contains 3000, and will receive at least 7000 more. These are also arranged according to De Candolle's system, and convey still more directly to the eye, owing to the general form of the parterre, than the other divisions mentioned, the affinities of plants with each other. Returning to the terrace, noticing by the way the taste with which a variety of objects are scattered about, as rustic vases at the intersections of walks, rustic bridges over the water, and the judgment displayed in the more important additions to the original monotonous surface, such as the sloping mounds thrown up in different parts, which now give such variety and expression to it,—we pass to the lower grounds on the opposite side of the terrace, where the irregularities become still more agreeable and decided. Every few yards the scene changes. Now we descend into a rocky dell, spanned by an arch of rocks, and with a cave, in character with the whole, at one side; then a little rude bridge takes us across a stream winding sluggishly along between its reedy banks; then, a few yards further, and we are in a kind of amphitheatre, formerly devoted to the growth of the beautiful American plants, for those requiring peat soil, the rhododendrons, kalmias, azaleas, andromedas, &c. Many other interesting floral compartments adorn this part of the grounds, among them a rosary. Here, too, is the Secretary's office, and residence, in a picturesque little building, with a richly-furnished lawn in front, and a fine shady grove, with a cast of Diana and the Hart at one side. We pass on now to the mount, with its winding walks of ascent, at the foot of which are numerous masses of interesting geological specimens. From the summit we obtain by far the finest view of the whole gardens, which from hence have really a charming effect; whilst beyond them, if we look in one direction, we have the handsome terraces of the park, backed by impenetrable masses of houses, and in another, the ever-beautiful "sisterhills" of Hampstead and Highgate.

Lastly, we proceed towards the great feature of the place-the Winter Garden. Eminently it deserves its name. As we enter the gardens by the chief gate, and pass up the central promenade, the airy structure stands before us-charmingly light and elegant. Not an inch is there of unnecessary rafter to interrupt the light; there is no wall visible above ground, the very pilasters that (we presume) form the chief supports, are faced with ground glass so as to enhance, instead of to detract from, the general effect; the doors are but glass panels, undistinguished, when shut, from the rest of the structure. The shape presented to us from this point is of a project

ing semicircle, with an elegantly-domed top surmounted by a crown; on each side of the semicircle projects a straight wing at right angles. Looking at the structure from another part, the back, it presents a series of five gables, forming a prolonged ridge and furrow roof, of which the centre is the largest. The whole covers 15,000 square feet of ground, will hold 2000 visitors, and cost nearly £7000. The height of the central part is 37 feet, its span 50 feet.

We enter and feel no words can do justice to the scene presented. It is a veritable fairy land, transplanted into the heart of London,-an actual garden of delight, realizing all our ideal. From the keen frosty air outside, and the flowerless aspect of universal nature, one steps into an atmosphere balmy and delicious, and not in the slightest degree oppressive. The most exquisite odours are wafted to and fro with every movement of the glass doors. Birds are singing in the branches. In every direction one sees all that is most stately, or graceful, or drooping in foliage, all that is finest or most richly coloured, or most glowingly superb in flowers. An aloe of magnificent growth demands your admiration at the threshold; long twiners hanging from point to point of the roof in festoons, descend in mid-air and almost touch your face in salutation; a pair of araucarias (excelsa), those aristocrats of the pine tribe, compel your allegiance on either side; while yellow acacias, camellias, rhododendrons, &c., &c., in full flower (we mean tall trees) growing in all their native luxuriance, make you again and again pause to ask, Is this winter? Is this England? In the very centre, growing in the ground (which is covered by a fine white gravel, having a charming effect of colour, cleanliness and freshness) is one of the most lovely and picturesque of palms-the dwarf palm. Beside such foliage even flowers fail. The eye must return and return to it, whithersoever it wanders. But how is it possible it can grow in such an atmosphere? Nothing can be less like a stove heat than the temperature here. The only answer that we can give is that it does grow here, and in most perfect health and beauty, although the thermometer has occasionally given the alarming indication-three degrees below frost!

This is emphatically a garden-not a beautiful house for plants merely. All the formality of the walk round the great bed of earth in which the plants grow at the Horticultural Gardens, or round the iron floor on which the plants rest in pots at Kew, is here done away with. The plants really form a garden, in and among which you walk. The chief ones are growing in the actual soil, though the white gravel comes close to every stem and covers up all beneath. A scarlet geranium treated in this way has reached some seven or eight feet up a pillar, and is nearly all the year round in flower. Elegant little iron tables are scattered every here and there, filled with little floral gems in the way of hyacinths, narcissi, &c., &c.; and beside each table a chair invites you to sit down and enjoy them.

The Society has lately taken stock of its treasures, and the result is very satisfactory, considering how few years it yet numbers-nearly 3000 species of hardy herbaceous plants, nearly 1300 hardy trees and shrubs, and 1800 species and varieties in the glass houses; and all these numbers are daily increasing.

THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS, REGENT'S PARK.

If one were desired to name the most delightful lounge in the metropolis, difficult as the task of selection might seem to be amidst so many attractive spots, the Zoological Gardens in the Regent's Park must, we think, be the chosen place. Equally suited to the young and the old, the solitary and the gregarious, the cheerful and the melancholy, the ignorant and the learned, all are here sure of enjoyment,