In the summer, every field is a garden; but, in the winter, our open gardens are bleak, unsheltered, dreary fields. Where the walks are extended to the lengths which too commonly prevail, we find that no one uses them except the nursemaid and children, who are compelled to do so; or the unfortunate visitor, who is not less compelled to walk round the place on the first day of his visit, and who ever afterwards makes his escape into the neighbouring lanes or inclosures to enjoy the country; while in the artificial garden, richly clothed with flowers, and decorated with seats and works of art, we saunter, or repose ourselves, without regretting the want of extent any more than while we are in the saloon, the library, or the gallery of the mansion.
