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Certainly, among the many heart-cheering sights which meet the eyes of the rambler in our favoured England, none are more pleasing than the trim-looking and fragrant little garden-plots fronting the modest and picturesque dwellings on each side the village-street. In many situations in the vicinity of Horticultural Societies, the offered prizes stimulate the cottagers to vie with each other in the culture and production of fine specimens, and the display of choice flowers in these little borders is such as to throw far into the shade the auriculas, tulips, anemones, stock-gilliflowers, flaunting holly-hocks, carnations, and all the other fragrant denizens of the "Squire's garden" or the "Rectory." The profusion of China-rosetrees beside the cottage doors is quite a feature in the landscape in many parts of England; and how beautiful and gratifying a one it is those best know who love the glory of flowers and the pleasure of fellow-beings as dearly as the writer.
The large yellow Jasmine (with which the white is grouped in the drawing) seems quite a different flower from her virgin relative, whose wreath of pearly stars cannot be approached in loveliness by the golden diadem of the more gaily-coloured variety. Both are natives of India.
I know of no fable connected with the Jasmine, but have sometimes fancied that the hue of the yellow ones came of jealousy; and Herrick, in a quatrain, entitled, "Why flowers change colour," seems somewhat of my mind—
These fresh beauties, we can prove,
Once were virgins sick of love;
