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in a man of religion, or not, I leave to the saints and to good confession. Much I perplexed myself with marvelling why she did so weep; above all, since I knew what hopeful tidings she had gotten of her friend and her enterprise. But no light came to me in my meditations. I did not know then that whereas young men, and many lasses too, are like the Roman lad who went with his bosom bare, crying Aura veni, and sighing for the breeze of Love to come, other maidens are wroth with Love when he creeps into their hearts, and would fain cast him out— being in a manner mad with anger against Love, and against him whom they desire, and against themselves. This mood, as was later seen, was Elliot's, for her heart was like a wild bird trapped, that turns with bill and claw on him who comes to set it free. Moreover, I have since deemed that her passion of faith in the Maid made war on her love for me ; one breast being scantly great enough to contain these two affections, and her pride tâking, against the natural love, the part of the love which was divine. But all these were later thoughts, that came to me in musing on the sorrows of my days; and, like most wisdom, this knowledge arrived too late, and I, as then, was holden in perplexity.

(To be continued.) &



IF it were wanted to add a charm and interest to gardening, I can imagine no more pleasant means to that end than the laying out of a garden ‘according to Shakespeare.' Not an Elizabethan garden, nor altogether a Baconian, but such a one as might be arrived at by bringing together all that Shakespeare himself says, or suggests, for the making of a garden-orchard, a pleasureground, a “rustic garden' like Perdita's. It should not be altogether “circummured with bricks,’ as Angelo's was. But there should be a wall on one side of the orchard, such as Romeo climbed over, and filling up a break in the hedge should be somewhere else a fragment of another wall ‘with some rough-cast about it,' to remind us of the very lamentable comedy of Pyramus and Thisby—with a serviceable chink in it. The hedge along this side of the garden should be “evenpleached,’ that is, with the lateral shoots interlaced (as one sees so many hedges, for instance, round Stratford, plaited), and along another should be left to itself, so that the musk roses I would plant might scramble over it, with blackberries and honeysuckles. On the fourth side, the garden should seem to be open and straggle off as it were into the hawthorn brake, such as Quince the carpenter and his sweet company rehearsed their play in, and poor Bottom was translated. And at the roots of the hawthorns should grow ferns, for Gadshill to gather seed from, to make him invisible when he next goes robbing with Falstaff on the king's highway, and a little heath, and corn-Cockles, and crow-flowers, and ‘cuckoo buds of yellow hue.’ And here, too, let us have a clump or two of pricking furze-bushes with brambles among them, for Trinculo and Stephano to scratch their legs amongst, and between the bushes there should be

turf, with some ‘prettiest daisied plot, against the coming of the brothers to bury Fidele, and plenty of the primroses they are sure to look for. But behind this little brake must run irregularly a bank of turf, set with hazels and filberts, and some pignuts beneath them—lest Caliban, poor wretch, should come looking for food—and planted, part of it, with primroses for Venus to lie on, and the rest with wild thyme and (in great profusion) violets, with here and there a tuft of oxlips, and the ‘little western flower’ (‘maidens call it love-in-idleness'), and of amaranth. And where the bank makes a corner with the hedge, there should be a bower for Titania to sleep in, quite overcanopied with lush-woodbine,

“With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.’

On the side where the wall runs should be the orchard. On the wall itself might be a fig-tree, a vine, and some apricots. But they should be repeated as standards in the orchard itself, and with them let there be an almond, a quince, a damson, and a pomegranate (for Juliet's nightingale), with several cherrytrees, a pear-tree, and at least six apple-trees, a pomewater, a bitter-sweet, an apple-john, a russet, a water-pippin, and a crab. Under all of them and in the grass between them I would have daffodils set. At the end of the orchard should be a chestnut-tree, and a walnut, and beneath them I would set some bilberries, a gooseberry bush, dewberries, and strawberries. Close to Thisby's wall, for the poor heroine's convenience, would be a clump of mulberries. For the rest of the enclosed ground, there should stand in the very centre, a cedar. Not that Shakespeare ever saw one, but it was his favourite tree none the less, his ideal. And on one side of it should be turf with a rosery, filled with damask roses, with red, white, crimson, ‘ vermilion' and blush roses, and in the centre the roses of York and Lancaster. And here and there among these roses, white lilies, in their pride of place, should queen it. On the turf, in tufts and patches, should be violets, both the pale blue and the dark. On the other side of the cedar, and the space that ought to be left all round it for its growing (where the fairies meanwhile could dance their rings), let there be laid out some pretty device of ‘curious knots.” These to be filled with ‘lilies of all kinds, the flower-de-luce being one,’ ‘the marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun,” and “hot lavender,’ with columbines, carnations, and pansies, Adonis' flower, rosemary, Sweet marjoram, cowslips, musk, and daffodils. For edging ‘these sweet beds of flowers,’ have thyme and camomile, and the sweet balm, melissa. Beyond this it would be pleasant to have a little wooded wilderness. The one part rather mournful, with cypress and yew and willow, and an aspen with ‘baleful 'mistletoe upon it, and under their shade, the weeds of Leer's crown—“rank fumitor’ (how pretty it is this fumitory) and furrow-weeds (perhaps the charming little pink pea-flowered “rest-harrow'), “harlocks' (the yellow charlock, I take it, of our waste-places), and cuckooflowers, which may be what you please ; and the weeds of Ophelia's garland—crow-flowers, perhaps buttercups, perhaps ragged-robins, and daisies and long-purples, which were (who knows?) either the early purple orchis, the showy loose-strife, or ‘lords-and-ladies’ (‘our cold maids do dead-men's fingers call them ’), the sad hyssop, and a bank of melancholy rue. The other part I would have brighter in its associations, with an elm-tree in the midst, overgrown with a vine, and round about it a sycamore, and ‘green holly, and a clump of pines, a lime from the grove that shaded Prospero’s “cabin,” and some olives from those that marked the whereabouts of Rosalind's ‘cote,’ bay-trees, and sweet-briar, with, growing among them, both bluebell and harebell (so as to be sure that we get what Shakespeare meant), and ‘winking’ marybuds, and mallows, and ladysmocks “all silver white,’ some wholesome mint and happy fennel. And between the two parts of this wilderness should run a path, hedged on the sombre side with box, on the gladder with myrtle, and all about it, and on it, primroses should be thickly set—‘the primrose path of dalliance.’ At the end of the wilderness, another path should cross it, and if you keep on it to the right (that is, behind the part where grow the ‘precious-juiced flowers’ under auspicious trees), you come to where, in the corner of the two hedges, nestles a “pleached bower,’ ‘where honeysuckles, ripen'd by the sun, forbid the sun to enter,’ the ‘woodbine coverture, in which Beatrice couched, eavesdropping, to her own dear beguiling. Keeping past to the right, you go along by the untended hedge, which is held back from off the path by an arched trellis, over which it droops, meeting half-way on the arch the vines that are trained up on the opposite side, and making ‘a thickpleached alley,' and so, midway up the path, you find yourself at the box where Sir Toby and Sir Andrew hid and watched poor Malvolio play the fool with his own fancy. If you go into the arbour, you will find at the back of it “a little planked gate’ that leads you out from the garden altogether, on to a meadow painted with delight, ‘with daisies pied and violets blue and ladysmocks all silver white,’ and ringleted with ‘fairy orbs,’ ‘more fertile fresh than all the field to see.” * But if, when we reach the end of the primrose path, we turn to the left, the grass grows dank, ‘green-sour,’ and coarse, and patches of toadstools and ‘night-swol'n mushrooms’ show amongst it. Hebenon, with ‘cursèd juice,' leans its poisonouslooking bells out from under the shade of cypress and yew, and in the damp and dark of the hedge-roots gleam the smooth, wicked leaves of the mandrake. And here, set back in the hedge, a little garden-house, with the pretty creepers that once embowered it, all strangled and smothered by “usurping ivy, idle moss, and briars, and the Sweet-scented flowers that grew about the door and over-peered the window-sills, murdered by ‘baleful weeds.' It was here that Hamlet's father was found sleeping, his ‘custom always of the afternoon,' and foully poisoned. And we pass it, and lo! in the corner of this dismal place, a pit, “covered with rude growing thorns,' and overhung by “stinking elders,’ and, growing about their roots, nettles and “hateful docks, ‘rough thistles,’ and the hemlock whose roots the witches come to dig ‘i’ the dark.” But come away; there may be that in the pit we should not care to see And so, passing along the wall, with its pleasant fruits plumping and reddening in the Sun, to the garden gate. It is shaded by an oak with an ivy climbing on it, and just in the porch of it are set streaked gillyflowers. They are half in the garden, because Polyxenes said they should be there, and half out of it, because Perdita said ‘of that kind our rustic garden's barren, and vowed she'd ‘not put the dibble in the earth to set one slip of them.’ And so, through the gate, into the outer air and to everyday world. Such, written with a running pen, is a sketch for a ‘Shakespeare garden;' but any one, if he only will let the garden grow up round him as he goes, can devise another, better and more to his own taste, and fix it with details of prettiness and suggestion that I have not touched.

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