birth and breeding. Really, as to low birth, there is no need to sneer at it here, for few gardeners are what is called gentlemen born-though many of them are, in the best sense of the word, gentlemen. Low birth and low breeding generally go together, such is the lot of man. And we must not be offended by the familiarity of the vulgar, but make allowances for the manners of well-meaning people, whom providence has made delvers and ditchers. "A low ignorant man," quoth Mr Loudon, "if he receive the slightest civilities from a superior, immediately conceives the latter has a particular friendship for him, and even endeavours to turn this friendship to advantage, by asking to borrow money to forward himself in business, or requesting a place under government, or a pension." And pray, why not try to borrow money as well as books? A place under government is a more serious affair, but as for a pension, if the man be an old soldier or sailor, and have a wooden leg, he enjoys one already; and if he be sound, wind and limb, he is probably on the parish. You may, in most cases, put him off with half-acrown; but it is not so easy to get rid of the fair sex. For Mr Loudon assures us, that "if a gentleman, or indeed any man, notices a low familiar woman, the latter immediately concludes he is in love with her." Very likely, if the notice taken of her chance to be in a wood, and consist in chucking her under the chin. But then the familiarity is first committed by the gentleman, or any other man, and he must abide the result. On the highroad, or in the harvestfield, or in the churchyard, on the skaleing o' the kirk," or at the cottage-door, surely you may "notice a low familiar woman," without in spiring her with a sudden belief that you are the victim of passion for her charms, and will never rest till you have effected her ruin, or made her your wife. Few men of our years are more likely to kindle a flame in the susceptible bosom than Christopher North; few men of any years more suave to the sex. Yet we have noticed hundreds, aye, thousands, of maids, wives, and widows, of low birth and low breeding, who dropped us a curtsy, and asked us "to come ben the house and taste," without

seeming, so far as was known to us, simple souls, to suspect us of being over head and ears in love with them, though we confess our crutch has occasionally been spirited away in a miraculous manner, found next morning by " the auld wife ayont the fire," behind a cabinet in the spence, and delivered to us, without expla nation, embroidered with a spider's web, and in the web the spider.

"Á well-informed and polite man," says our sage, "is not familiar with any one." What sayest thou to that doctrine, dear Charles Lamb? Where are gone "all the familiar faces!" The well-informed and polite man, Mr Loudon tells us, is not familiar with any one," because he knows that if he were to lay bare every thing respecting himself, he would lessen respect." There is no occasion to lay bare every thing, not even when you bathe in loch or river; but why such fear of lessening respect? We have some friends-three, or perhaps four

whom we love like uterine brothers-but, thank God, we know them too well, and they know us too well, to allow the possibility of mutual respect. For half a century and upwards we have been as familiar as trees composing one clump on the hillside-or as clouds brought into union by heaven's own breath "frae a' the airts the wind can blaw," and allowed to settle down on a bright blue spot of sky, for an hour of profound and perfect peace! Respect! Away with it to hypocrites or selfdeceivers. But ours be the bond and balm of life-the Christian virtue that is born in the freedom of the heart-fearing nothing, suspecting nothing, but like a bird on the bough, or a flower on the brae, singing and smiling, for its own sweet sake, as if there were neither sin nor sorrow on all this earth—and that is LOVE-the same love that was in the heart of Cain before he came to envy Abel, and while yet he saw, without anger, the smoke of the sacrifice ascending from that rural altar, "and blessed the brother whom erelong he slew!"

But what saith Mr Loudon on cupidity? That it is out of the question with a well-informed and polite man. And why? "Because he knows mankind too well to suppose they will give him a valuable thing

merely because he asks it; but even if there were a chance of getting it in this way, still he would not ask, because he might be asked something more valuable in return." Hobbism is heard in all its hardness but from the jaws of a thorough-going Scotchman. No Englishman of the selfish school could have made such a barefaced avowal as this of the principle of his moral creed. His own pride would have been offended by such a direct and explicit confession of his own meanness; and were the words set down for him, we can fancy we see John Bull trampling upon and tossing them, with fire-eyed disdain, like his namesake, more wrath ful than seems reasonable with the toggery of a tailor, who is taking a swim with his friends the frogs.

Mr Loudon, however, makes some amends for his enunciation of such despicable doctrine, by a good remark and pleasing illustration on the subject of "judicious restraint." "A man properly under its influence," he finely says, " may be compared to a well-trained tree; and as this figure is familiar to the young gardener, it may be well for him frequently to ask himself, whether, supposing he were a cherry-tree, he would be reckoned one finely spread against a wall, or an unpruned standard." Fairest and gentlest of readers, that ever dropped a tear on page of Maga, or illumined it with a smile, what sayest thou? Wouldst thou, supposing thy sweet self to be a cherrytree, be one finely spread against a wall, or an unpruned standard? Oh! not for all the suns and systems in the universe would we see thee finely spread against a wall! Thy tender trunk trained up from child hood in the way it should go, and from which no liberty is left it to depart when it is old-thy delicate limbs, spread eaglewise, fastened with rusty nails and bits of musty flannel to the unfeeling bricks! All the rounded proportions of thy naturally graceful figure flattened into a pancakeor say rather a fan, unfolded for ever yet flirted not at all! What, though by this process thou art made to bear show-cherries like plums? Alas! alas! love sickens and dies at sight of the long, lank, productive espalier! But love springs again to life at the airy whisper of that

exquisite unpruned standard, blushing yonder with blossoms that look as if they were composed of snow and fire blended in wondrous union by the creative and reconciling spring. We clasp her stem that softens in our embrace, and thrills to our passion, while from each core expires a long-drawn mutual sigh. We release her-oh! sweet Helen Tree-from our imaginary marriage, and retiring a few steps, that she may have room to display herself all abroad, on the greensward of the sunny glade, an island in the wood, we gaze on the virgin glory till our soul assimilates itself to the sight, that fills it through a thousand eyes-and oh! metamorphosis divine, transfigured are we into a stately young male cherry-tree, while all the birds of the morning break out into a nuptial song, and so closely intertwined are now our branches, that the sun himself knows not how to distinguish our blossoms, and is pleased to see the loving confusion every moment coloured brighter and brighter with beauty born of bliss; nor can the clouds themselves, who come floating along from the orient to adore and worship, either abate or bedim the still unsubdued splendour of that one-in-two and two-in-one unpruned standard Cherry-Tree.

Supposing a young gardener to have obtained a tolerably good situation at home, and to have proved it for a year or two, Mr Loudon says he should set about two things; "the first is saving money, and the second is entering into the marriage state." He treats us with two tables

of calculations, shewing how an industrious, successful, and moneyloving gardener may, at fifty, purchase no trifling annuity for two lives-his own and his wife's-and thereby continue to jog on comfortably to the end. We have nothing to object to these tables, except that they leave us rather in the dark as to Mr Loudon's opinions on marriage. He is manifestly a Malthusian, and speaks with fear and trembling, as well he may, of what he calls" thoughtless and unmeasured procreation." But here is the concluding paragraph of his treatise on the education of gardeners:

"The vulgar reason why a young

man ought to save money is, that he may get together as much as may enable him to collect some furniture and get married. This, however, may be called saving to produce want and misery. A young couple, eager to get the use of each other's persons, will not be very nice in the quantity or quality of their furniture. All they consider necessary is, accordingly, often got before either are twenty. Housekeeping and propagation are commenced; and thus the foundation laid of a life of hard labour, scanty food, and their attendants, bad temper, and often disease. After twenty-five years of bustle and distraction, nine or ten children have been produced, and are most probably growing up in rags and ignorance; and all that this couple can say is, that they have struggled hard to create nine times as much misery as that by which they are oppressed. If the man had limited himself for twenty-five years to making the heads of pins, he might have accumulated as much as would have made him independent and comfortable, and still had sufficient time before him to marry, and enjoy the comfort and solace of a wife and children. But the use of a wife to a gardener, and to every man who is not independent, ought to be chiefly as the operative partner in his domestic economy; to prepare his food, and keep in order his lodging and clothes. If, in addition to these duties, she has cultivated, or will cultivate her mind, so as to become interesting as a companion, so much the better; and if the parties further think that they can attain their object of independence, and rear one or two children, let them do so. Universal sources of happiness should never be rejected when they can be retained."

Mr Loudon seems to us to have here huddled together all the most loathsome language of the antipropagationists-and, therefore, he must strip and submit his back to the knout. He speaks like a vulgar fellow when he speaks "of a young couple eager to get the use of each other's persons." Were that all they were eager about, they would not wait "to collect some furniture." But even if it were, let not this elderly man, by such coarse and hateful

words, shew himself no better than a monk. He should remember, that in the young even animal passion itself is commonly accompanied with feelings and fancies that are not animal-and that the most ignorant, coarse, and clownish lout of a clodhopper, notwithstanding all his grinning, may be seriously in love with a sweetheart whom it is hardly possible for us to look at without laughter, presenting, as she does, so rare an assemblage of all that is most ludicrous in nature and in art. Yet the poor creatures are Christian

they have been married this very day in a church-and, after a supper provided for a few friends, of beans and bacon, and a gallon or two of cider, they will go to bednow husband and wife-and rising thankfully, long before Mr Loudon, go together to their work. They contrive to continue in the same cottage, and have children, some of whom die, and are buried with some expense and some grief-others live, sometimes behaving well, and sometimes very ill indeed-and there is scolding, squalling, cuffing, kicking, and frequent pulling of ears. Yet, on the whole, the family are happy

as happiness goes in this world. And 'tis amusing to see how the parents have transmitted both their faces to their eldest daughter Dorothy, who is, notwithstanding, not only a good creature, but a Blue. Yes, she is the village poetess-and here is a little poem of her's on the Battle of Agincourt, which she lately sent in a modest letter to Maga.

How sublime are Honour's deeds,
Displaying rectitude;

In point of Glory there it lies,
Prince Henry's Magnitude.

Is not our slight sketch more true to nature than Mr Loudon's finished picture? "Housekeeping and propagation are commenced" are ugly words, because spat in an ugly spirit; and the whole world, we feel assured, will be against Mr Loudon in the preference he gives to the making of the heads of pins, through the long space of twenty-five revolving years, and with us in the preference we give, through the same protracted period, to the making of the heads and tails of children. From his pitiful prating about pins, it would

appear that he thinks the proper age for a man's marrying is about fortyfive. But what young woman would marry such a foggy, if she could have a spruce lad of two or three-andtwenty? Observe, that a man of five-and-forty, who has been married twenty years and upwards, and can shew a comely wife and a fine grownup or growing-up family of sons and daughters, is virtually a young man, and in the prime of life; but a barren bachelor of the same age has almost always such a suspicious look of longevity about him, that he is often accused, we confess unjustly, of being a Nestor aping a Neoptolemus. Mr Loudon is as obscure an oracle on the proper age of our friend's wife. "If the parties further think that they can attain their object of independence-and rear one or two children-let them do so." Very laconic. They are to rear only one or two children-pray, are they not to beget any more? And if the answer be,-" No-not any more," will Mr Loudon have the goodness to point out-not for our sakes, for we have no personal interest in the matter-but for our married brethren of mankind-how they are to prevent it? Better far, to our mind, a life of hard labour, scanty food, and their attendants, bad temper, and often disease, after twenty-five years of bustle and distraction, nine or ten children, growing up in rags and ignorance, and the hardest struggles to create nine times as much misery as that by which the multiplying pair have been oppressed better far, we say, the sum-total of the misery, with all its formidable items set down by the steel-pen of a Loudon, than the inconceivable and unnatural suffering of that pair sternly resolved, at bidding of a Loudon's "let them do so," to confine the amount of their offspring within the dual number-conjugating and declining, after a dismal fashion, the verb and the noun love; so as to draw tears down Pluto's iron cheeks, and awaken universal sympathy for the infatuated sinners, even among the damned.

"The use of a wife to a gardener, and to every man who is not independent," ought to be, quoth this liberal-minded man," to prepare his food, and keep in order his lodging

and clothes." Let him go into the poorest hut and tell the gude wife so, and she will bundle him out, not without a crack on the sconce from the mop-staff, while she will continue twirling the muff thereof with great animation, as she washes the threshold from the dust of his shoes; and then with loud laughter, pursuing his flight, she flings herself back on the gude-man's elbow-chair, and cries to herself" What a coof!"

The education of a gardener, or any other man, cannot be complete, we should think, without religion; and so thinks Mr Loudon. We have seen that he counsels gardeners to bring up their weekly studies, during all the twelve hours of the Sabbath day. Are they never to go to church? That is as it may happen-"as their religion may permit." The sage defines religion-" our opinions as to the nature of things"-it being, he says, the same as devotion, devoted to, and in Latin religio. In certain periods of the progress of society, he tells us, morality and religion are treated as depending on each other-" the latter is considered as the principal foundation of the former, and man is taught to be sober and honest, not only to avoid the punishment awarded by the laws of his country, but to avoid still greater punishment in future. Fear is the motive to obedience in both cases, and while some defend the principle of employing the fear of hell along with that of the law, others argue that the principle of utility is alone a sufficient foundation for morals. Self-interest, and the dread of losing reputation, they say, is a foundation more to be depended on than a joint fear of the law and of hell, because if the party change his religion, the fear of hell or future punishment may be got rid of, and what remains of earthly fear may not be sufficient in the first instance to restrain from excess."

Our modern Socrates, "without defending either opinion," begs leave to make a few remarks on both. To rude and gross minds, he thinks "that the fear of being hanged and eternally burned is more suitable than the more simple and refined motives of personal advantage and reputation." It seems to us that to be hanged and eternally burned must

be a great personal disadvantage to any "gardener, or any other man;" that self-interest is not lost sight of in seeking to avoid them; and that men may desire to have a fair reputation who believe in future punish

ments.

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Our Sage thinks, that as society improves, man begins to have less extravagant notions of his own importance; and from ranking himself among the immortal gods, at last finds himself but an animal among other animals, and a mere man. His extravagant hopes now vanish, and with these his superstitious fears. He finds nothing left but to make the most of life, by the exercise of his faculties in such a way as to keep up a lively consciousness of existence, and a feeling of enjoyment or happiness." This happens, he says, as "society improves;" and we take the liberty of telling him-that he lies.

The truth is, that this man is a wretched ignoramus on all subjects on which it behoveth a man humbly to seek light; and we have been graciously told, that whosoever seeketh in a right spirit, shall find it. That he is a wretched ignoramus, we shall shew out of his own mouth. "There are a great many different species (of religion) in the world, and those of the more civilized nations, as the European, Indian, Chinese, like plants which have been long in cultivation, are branched out into numerous varieties."

That is a piece of pompous pedantry, but let it pass. He continues thus:-" It may well be asked, which is the true religion, or that which a man had best adopt?" Why, does not the blockhead know that the Christian religion is the true religion, and that which a man had best adopt? He does not know it, and therefore we call him again a wretched ignoramus. Will the gardeners of Britain degrade themselves so far as to borrow a book blundered out of the block-head of such a fool as he who spawned the following filth?" Truth is either absolute or relative. Absolute truth is that which is true in the nature of things, or capable of demonstration; thus, in arithmetic, three and two are equal to five in every part of the world, and have been so, and will be so for

ever. Relative truth is that which is believed to be true by any particular person, or among any particular people. Thus, if a man believe that Rome is paved with cinders, to him it is true; and if a whole people believe, with Pythagoras, that the earth is an immense plain, to them that system is as true as the Copernican system is to us. The same thing holds as to religion, and each species or variety is true to those who believe in it. What may be absolutely true in this sentiment, can only be ascertained by finding out what is common to all religions. It would appear that all of them, of which any distinct accounts are obtained, profess two things; first, to give an account of the origin of the world and of man, their history and destinies; and, secondly, to prescribe some form of devotion. The intention of the first is to satisfy curiosity, and of the second to procure the favour of the Author of nature. As no two religions agree in their historical accounts, and as no greater blessings are observed to follow the devotions of one people more than those of another, all that can be said to be universally true in religion is, that it exists, and that it attempts to explain the nature of things, and prescribe homage to the Author of nature. In short, that it is a sort of speculation on the nature of things,philosophy in a certain stage of its progress. According to this theory, there can be no person without religion; that is, there can be no person without ideas as to the nature of things; and whatever any person may think or determine in his own mind on these subjects, these thoughts, and the actions which flow from them, constitute his religion; thus, what are called Deists, Atheists, Sceptics, &c., can no more be said to be without religion, than Christians, Mahomedans, or Chinese. It is true, they are not of any particular religion at present avowed by whole nations, but they have just as much religion as whole nations have; that is, they have certain ideas on the subject, and they act in consequence of these ideas."

So Mr Loudon tells the gardeners of Great Britain, that it is all one whether they be atheists or Christians. For saying so we shall not