Cyrus, Cicero, Bacon, and Temple, were totally mistaken in their ideas of horticultural beauty.

Cicero informs us, in a fine quotation from Xenophon's Economics, that when Lysander came to Cyrus, a prince equally distinguished for his glorious empire and his genius, Cyrus showed him a piece of ground well enclosed and completely planted. After the visitor had admired the tall and straight trees, and the rows regularly formed in a quincunx, and the ground clear of weeds, and well cultivated, and the sweetness of the odours which exhaled from the flowers, he could not help expressing his admiration not only of the diligence, but the skill, of him by whom all this was measured and marked out; upon which Cyrus answered, "It was myself who measured every thiug, the rows of trees are of my disposing, the plan is mine, and many of the trees were planted with my own hand." An illustrious pattern, which I hope our English noblemen and gentlemen will not be afraid to follow. Why always employ a professed plan-maker? Why sacrifice their own amusement and inclination to the will of another, and to the imperious edicts of capricious fashion.

No. CLIX.

On the Example of Henry the Fifth, and the Opinion that a profligate Youth is likely to terminate in a wise Manhood.

THERE are those who consider early profligacy as a mark of that spirit which seldom fails to produce, in the subsequent periods of life, a wise and a virtuous character. The example of Henry the Fifth is often cited in confirmation of their opinion. Shakspeare has indeed represented his errors and reformation in so amiable a light, that many are not displeased when they see a young man beginning his career in riot and debauchery. While there is an appearance of spirit, they regard not the vice.

The example of Henry the Fifth has been applied particularly to heirs apparent of a crown. If the future king is found to be early initiated in the excesses of sensuality, it is a favourable presage, and we are referred to the example of Falstaff's Hal. If he devote his time to drinking, and be actually involved in continual intoxication, it is all the better, for do we not recollect Hal's exploits at the Boar's Head, in Eastcheap? Dame Quickly, Doll Tearsheet, are illustrious instances to prove what company a prince should keep in order to become hereafter a great king. It is in the haunts of intemperance and vice, and in the company of sycophants and knaves, that he is, according to the vulgar phrase, to sow his wild oats, to spend the exuberance of his spirit, to subdue the ebullition of his blood, and to acquire a valuable species of moral experience.

able instance of early profligacy and subsequent reformation. He is a remarkable, because he is a rare instance. For one who succeeds as he did, a thousand become either incurable debauchees, drunkards, and rogues, ruin their character and fortunes, or die under the operation of so rough an experiment. We hear not of those who are obliged to go to the East Indies, to hide themselves on the Continent, to skulk in the garrets of blind alleys, to spend their days in gaols, or are early carried to the churchyard, amidst the thanks and rejoicings of their friends for so happy a deliverance from shame and ruin. But if one wild youth becomes but a tolerably good man, we are struck with the metamorphosis, as we are with every thing uncommon. We exaggerate his goodness, by comparing it with his previous depravity. We cite the example, as a consolatory topic, wherever we behold a young man, as the Scripture beautifully expresses it, walking in the ways of his own heart, and in the sight of his own eyes. We talk as if we almost congratulated a parent, when his son has spirit enough to violate, not only the rules of decency, but also the most sacred laws of morality and religion.

Such fatal ideas have broken the heart of many a virtuous and feeling father. They have brought his hairs, before they were gray, to the grave. I have been much pleased with a passage in the sermons of the late worthy Dr. Ogden, in which he recommends regularity and virtue to young men solely for the sake of their parents. 'Stop, young man," says he, " stop a little to look towards thy poor parents. Think it not too much to bestow a moment's reflection on those who never forget thee. Recollect what they have done for thee. Remember all-all indeed thou canst not; alas! ill had been thy lot, had not their care begun before thou couldst remember or know

"Now so proud, self-willed, inexorable, then couldst thou only ask by wailing, and move them with thy tears. And they were moved. Their hearts were touched with thy distress; they relieved and watched thy wants before thou knewest thine own necessities, or their kindness. They clothed thee; thou knewest not that thou wast naked: thou askedst not for bread; but they fed thee. And ever since for the particulars are too many to be recounted, and too many surely to be all utterly forgotten, it has been the very principal endeavour, employment, and study of their lives to do service unto thee. If by all these endeavours they can obtain their child's comfort, they arrive at the full accomplishment of their wishes. They have no higher object of their ambition. Be thou but happy, and they are so.

"And now tell me, is not something to be done, I do not now say for thyself, but for them? If it be too much to desire of thee to be good, and wise, and virtuous, and happy for thy own sake; yet be happy for theirs. Think that a sober, upright, and let me add, religious life, besides the blessings it will bring upon thy own head, will be a fountain of unfeigned comfort to thy declining parents, and make the heart of the aged sing for joy.

"What shall we say? which of these is happier? the son that maketh a glad father? or the father, blessed with such a son?

"Fortunate young man! who hast an heart open so early to virtuous delights, and canst find thy own happiness in returning thy father's blessing upon his own head!

And happy father! whose years have been prolonged, not, as it often happens, to see his comforts fall from him one after another, and to become at once old and destitute; but to taste a new pleasure,

not to be found among the pleasures of youth, reserved for his age; to reap the harvest of all his cares and labours, in the duty, affection, and felicity of his dear child. His very look bespeaks the inward satisfaction of his heart. The infirmities of his age sit light on him. He feels not the troubles of life; he smiles at the approach of death; sees himself still living and honoured in the memory and the person of his son, his other dearer self; and passes down to the receptacle of all the living, in the fulness of content and joy.

"How unlike to this, is the condition of him, who has the affliction to be the father of a wicked offspring! Poor, unhappy man! No sorrow is like unto thy sorrow. Diseases and death are blessings, if compared with the anguish of thy heart, when thou seest thy dear children run heedlessly and headlong in the ways of sin, forgetful of their parents' counsel, and their own happiness. Unfortunate old man! How often does he wish he had never been born, or had been cut off before he was a father! No reflection is able to afford him consolation. He grows old betimes; and the afflictions of age are doubled on his head. In vain are instruments of pleasure brought forth. His soul refuses comfort. Every blessing of life is lost upon him. No success is able to give him joy. His triumphs are like that of David; while his friends, captains, soldiers, were rending the air with shouts of victory-he, poor conqueror, went up, as it is written, to the chamber over the gate and wept: and as he went, thus he said; 0, my son Absalom! my son, my son Absalom! would to God I had died for thee! O Absalom, my son, my son!"

I have introduced this passage, with a hope that gay and thoughtless young men may be properly affected by it; and though they should have no re