ster. It is also to the elm that the public parks and gardens of London owe most of their interest, while they furnish to many thousands of its inhabitants their only scene of relaxation or means of acquaintance with the fair fresh materials of nature, the open sky with its bright blue or gorgeous tints, the ever-fleeting clouds, the grassy sward, or the spreading tree. The gardens of the Temple, of Gray's Inn, of Drapers' Hall, etc., may well glory in the elm trees which form their principal ornaments; and the parks of Westminster are almost exclusively planted with them. St. James's Park, the most interesting among these, from the historical associations connected with it, is formed on ground appended to an hospital of that name, but converted by Henry II. into a royal chase "for his own disport and pastime," when residing at the then country palace of WestminIn subsequent reigns it became a place of public resort, and Mulberry and Spring Gardens, as within its boundary, are mentioned in the early part of the seventeenth century, as the favourite haunts of fashionable characters. It was laid out in its present state by Charles II., under the direction of Le Notre; and here, contemporary authors tell us, that pleasure-loving monarch spent much of his time "playing with his dogs and feeding his ducks.' The Bird-cage Walk, so called from the aviaries, or cages, which were placed among the trees which bordered it; the Mall, a level, smoothly-kept walk, so named from a game of ball there played; and the canal, at that time a straight and formal lake, well stocked with rare and curious waterfowl, were then formed; and their attractions for the curious and the gamester, with the very frequent presence of the sovereign, rendered the spot a favourite place of resort for all classes of the community. It was here, in the winter of 1662, that the art of skating was first practised in England, probably having been acquired by the exiled cavaliers during their abode in Holland. Evelyn mentions in his Diary, of December 1: Having seen the strange and wonderful dexterity of the sliders on the new canal in St. James Park, performed before their majesties, by divers gentlemen and others, with scheets, after the manner of the Hollanders, with what a swiftness they pause, how suddenly they stop in full career upon the ice, went home." Mr. Pepys, secretary to the admiralty, also mentions it the same day: "Over the park, where I first in my life, it being a great frost, did see people sliding with their skaites, which is a very pretty art." Stowe, however, long before, had mentioned a sort of skating practised by the Londoners on the frozen waters of Finsbury, by fastening a bone, or some other hard substance, under their feet. Both the graphic delineators of the gay, depraved court of Charles frequently mention this spot, and for many of the succeeding reigns it still continued to rank as the chief resort of the idle, the frivolous, and dissipated. Swift, Addison, Walpole, Johnson, and other authors of the last century, often mention "the park," as by way of pre-eminence it was generally styled, not merely as the general place of public resort, but as their own favourite walk. And though the changes of fashion and vicissitudes of time have rendered St. James's Park a less fashionable, it is still as frequented a place, and many of our readers doubtless can testify with our great poet Milton to the attractions and enjoyment it affords: Not always city pent, or pent at home I dwell; but when spring calls me forth to roam Most of the elms now standing in it were planted by Charles II., for those of an earlier date have, with very few exceptions, long since fallen victims to the decay of nature or the violence of storms. It is, however, stated that one of the elms near the entrance of the passage leading to Spring Gardens, was planted by the duke of Gloucester, brother to Charles 1., and that that unfortunate, misguided monarch, when led from St. James's Palace to Whitehall, on the morning of his execution, pointed out the tree to one of his attendants, and mentioned the circumstance. The Champs Elysées and Boulevards of Paris, the quay of Rotterdam, the parks of Versailles and the Hague, the meadows and gardens of our universities, and the public walks in the vicinity of many of our own and of the continental towns, are also planted with the elm tree, either solely or mixed with other species. For such a purpose, observes Mr. Loudon, "it is well adapted, from the comparative rapidity of its growth in any soil, the straightness of its trunk, the facility with which it bears lopping, the denseness of its foliage, its hardness and longevity; it has also the great advantage of requiring very little pruning or care of any kind after it has once been planted." The same qualifications also rendered the elm "peculiarly fitted for the 'length of colonnade' with which our forefathers loved to make graceful and gradual entry to their hospitable halls." It has now become usual to censure them as stiff or formal, and too often they are allowed to dwindle and decay; nevertheless, in many of the domains laid out during the period when the stately and formal style of planting and gardening was in vogue, the "long drawn avenue" yet remains, and forms a stately portal worthy of the noble mansion to which it leads. Here we find the same embowering canopy and arcadelike vista to which we have alluded as furnished by our "hedge-row elms," but how widely different the general character of the scene; though the picturesque and natural charms of the one, and the majestic dignity and symmetry of the other, are solely owing to the self-same tree. Drawn up by their closer proximity to each other into greater uniformity of size and shape, we have in the stately trunks on either side fit prototypes of the lofty pillared columns of some cloistered nave; above, the blending mass of twigs and leaves forms an arching roof, in which the up-turned gazing eye seems lost, compared with which how far inferior the most elaborate mosaic or carved and fretted tracery which the resources or skill of man could ever produce; while the lengthened vista stretching onward in long arching perspective meetly harmonizes with, and prepares the mind for, the venerable or majestic dwelling to which it thus conducts. At White Knights, Strathfieldsay, Littlecote Hall, Boreham, and many other residences of our nobility and gentry, such avenues are yet to be found, though varying of course in extent and grandeur. The well-known "Long Walk" at Windsor is, however, probably unequalled by any other our country can boast, extending, as it does, in a straight unvarying line for upwards of three miles, bordered on each side by a double row of elms, leaving an open central space between seventy-seven feet wide. Either viewed from the massive colossal statue of king George III., (who laid out the park in its present state,) which terminates it at one end, or from the lofty heights of the Castle at the other, it forms indeed a stately and majestic approach, well worthy of the noble pile to which it leads, now honoured as the chosen home of our sovereign queen. In such a spot did our poet Cowper love to stray, and his descriptive pen has well portrayed it as the scene of his summer stroll, or "winter walk at noon:" Refreshing change! where now the blazing sun? Play wanton every moment, every spot. The night was winter in his roughest mood, Again the harmony comes o'er the vale; And through the trees I view the embattled tower, And settle in soft musings as I tread Whose outspread branches overarch the glade. With slender notes, and more than half-suppress'd; Pleased with his solitude and flitting light "As to my own inclination," observes Evelyn, "I know of no tree amongst all the foresters becoming the almost interminable lontanaza of walks and vistas comparable to this majestic plant." He tells us also that those "incomparable walks and vistas of them, at Aranjuez, Casal del Campo, Madrid, the Escurial, and other places of delight belonging to the king and grandees of Spain, are planted with such as they report Philip II. caused to be brought out of England, before which it does not ap pear there were any of those trees in Spain." In France, we are told, the elm was first planted in public walks about 1540, but it was not till the reign of Henry iv. that it became general. That monarch is said to have been so partial to it, as to have expressed a wish that all the highways in his kingdom were planted with it; and at the period of the revolution many old trees were standing which bore his name, or that of his estimable minister, the faithful Sully. This species of the elm produces abun is to preserve uninjured, and carefully to replace, the small fibrous rootlets by which the tree imbibes nourishment, as it was by the weakening or destruction of these important organs, that decay and death resulted under the former systems. To secure these with the least possible difficulty, the far-extending roots are divided by digging a trench at a certain distance from the trunk; this is filled with fresh IGNATIUS LOYOLA. dance of suckers or shoots from the root, and by these it is readily propagated and increased, though it is at present generally multiplied in English nurseries by layers from stool plants. These, when rooted, can be at once removed to their destined site, and after that require very little attention. Few trees better bear transplanting, even after they have obtained considerable size. Evelyn tells us those of twenty years' growth may be removed with un-earth, and in it new fibres are induced doubted success, and much recommends and formed in the course of two or three this practice as an excellent and ex- years. When the tree is to be moved, peditious way for great persons to plant the roots are carefully laid bare to within the accesses of their houses with; for three or four feet of the stem; it is then being disposed at sixteen or eighteen transferred to its new site, and replaced feet interval, they will," says he," in a at its former depth, adjusting the roots few years, bear goodly heads and thrive as nearly in their original state as can be to admiration." The method of improv- done, and covering them firmly with ing and sheltering a newly cultivated or earth. exposed district, or embellishing any chosen scene, by the transplantation of well-grown timber-trees, was well known to the ancients. The Greeks, we read, replaced those which were uprooted by the wind; and Pliny tells us, that the elms in which the Romans trained their vines were often transplanted when twenty feet high. Some large lime trees at Heidelberg were thus removed in the seventeenth century, when the practice seems to have been revived. Louis XIV. carried it to a great extent, removing an entire forest, the Bois de Boulogne, from Versailles to its present site, a distance of seven miles. Both at that period, as in more ancient times, it was considered necessary to remove all the smaller roots and branches, and to prune in the others very closely, a practice necessarily much mutilating the trees, and requiring many years to elapse before they recovered their vigour. The ball of earth, too, raised with the roots was immense, requiring much strength to remove it to a short distance; and the process altogether involved so much risk and outlay, that it fell again into disuse till within the last thirty years, when sir Henry Stewart, of Allanton, having carefully studied the nature and habits of trees, introduced a much-improved method, by which the process has become no longer a doubtful and expensive experiment, but easy and successful in its results. His own park, in the course "of five years was thus converted from a cold and naked field to a rich scene of glade and woodland," bearing the appearance of having been planted forty years. The principal and, indeed, sole care required WHEN the French, who had been received with enthusiasm in Pampeluna, proposed to the commandant of the fortress to capitulate, "Let us endure every thing," boldly exclaimed Inigo, "rather than surrender." On this the French began to batter the walls with their formidable artillery, and in a short time they attempted to storm it. The bravery and exhortations of Inigo gave fresh courage to the Spaniards; they drove back the assailants by their arrows, swords, or halberds. Inigo led them on. Taking his stand on the ramparts, with eyes flaming with rage, the young knight brandished his sword, and felled the assailants to the earth. Suddenly a ball struck the wall just where he stood; a stone, shivered from the ramparts, wounded the knight severely in the right leg at the same moment as a ball, rebounding from the violence of the shock, broke his left. Inigo fell senseless. The garrison immediately surrendered; and the French, admiring the courage of their youthful adversary, bore him in a litter to his relatives in the castle of Loyola. In this lordly mansion, from which his name was afterwards derived, Inigo had been born of one of the most illustrious families of that country eight years after the birth of Luther. A painful operation became necessary. In the most acute suffering, Inigo firmly clenched his hands, but uttered no complaint. Constrained to a repose which he could ill endure, he found it needful to employ in some way his ardent imagination. In the ab sence of the romances which he had been accustomed to devour, they gave him the "Life of Christ," and the "Flores Sanctorum." The reading of these works, in his state of solitude and sickness, produced an extraordinary effect upon his mind. The stirring life of tournaments and battles, which had occupied his youth, to the exclusion of every thing beside, seemed as if receding and fading from view, while a career of brighter glory seemed to open before him. The humble labours of the saints, and their heroic patience, were, all of a sudden, seen to be far more worthy of praise than all the high deeds of chivalry. Stretched upon his couch, and still under the effects of fever, he indulged in the most conflicting thoughts. The world he was planning to renounce, and that life of holy mortification which he contemplated, still appeared before him—the one soliciting by its pleasures, the other by its severities; and fearful was the struggle in his conscience between these two opposing worlds. "What," thought he, "if I were to act like St. Francis or St. Dominic?" But the recollection of the lady to whom he had pledged his love recurred to his mind. "She is neither countess nor duchess,' said he to himself, with a kind of simple vanity, "she is much more than either.' But thoughts like these were sure to fill him with distress and impatience, while the idea of imitating the example of the saints caused his heart to overflow with peace and joy. From this period his resolution was taken. Scarcely had he risen from his sick bed, when he decided to retire from the world. As Luther had done, he once more invited to a repast his companions in arms, and then, without divulging his design, set out, unattended, for the lonely cells excavated by the Benedictine monks, in the rocks of the mountains of Montserrat. Impelled, not by the sense of his sin, or of his need of the grace of God, but by the wish to become "knight of the virgin Mary," and to be renowned for mortifications and works, after the example of the army of the saints, he confessed for three successive days, gave away his costly attire to a mendicant, clothed himself in sackcloth, and girded himself with a rope. Then calling to mind the armed Vigil of Amadis of Gaul, he suspended his sword at the shrine of Mary, passed the night in watching, in his new and strange costume, and sometimes on his knees, and then standing, but ever absorbed in prayer, and with his pilgrim's staff in hand, went through all the devout practices of which the illustrious Amadis had set the example. "Thus," remarks the Jesuit Maffei, one of the biographers of the saint, "while Satan was stirring up Martin Luther to rebellion against all laws, Divine and human, and whilst that heretic stood up at Worms, declaring impious war against the apostolic see, Christ, by his heavenly providence, called forth this new champion, and, binding him by after-vows to obedience to the Roman pontiff, opposed him to the licentiousness and fury of heretical perversity." Loyola, who was still lame in one of his legs, journeyed slowly, by secluded and circuitous paths, till he arrived at Manresa. There he entered a convent of Dominicans, resolving in this retired spot to give himself up to the most rigid penances. Like Luther, he daily went from door to door begging his bread. Seven hours he was on his knees, and thrice every day did he flagellate himself. Again, at midnight he was accustomed to rise and pray. He allowed his hair and nails to grow; and it would have been hard indeed to recognise in the pale and lank visage of the monk of Manresa, the young and brilliant knight of Pampeluna. Yet the moment had arrived when the ideas of religion, which hitherto had been to Inigo little more than a form of chivalric devotion, were to reveal themselves to him as having an importance, and exercising a power, of which, till then, he had been entirely unconscious. Suddenly, without any thing which might give intimation of an approaching change of feeling, the joy he had experienced left him. In vain did he have recourse to prayer and chanting psalms: he could not rest. His imagination ceased to present nothing but pleasing illusions; he was alone with his conscience. He did not know what to make of a state of feeling so new to him and he shuddered as he asked whether God could still be against him, after all the sacrifices he had made. Day and night gloomy terrors disturbed him; bitter were the tears he shed, and urgent was his cry for that peace which he had lost; but all in vain. He again ran over the long confession he had made at Montserrat. "Possibly," thought he, "I may have forgotten something.' But that confession did but aggravate his distress of heart, for it revived the thought of former transgressions. He wandered about, melancholy and dejected, his conscience accusing him of having all his life done nought but heap sin upon sin; and the wretched man, a prey to overwhelming terrors, filled the cloisters with the sound of his sighs. Strange thoughts at this crisis found access to his heart. Obtaining no relief in the confessional and the various ordinances of the church, he began, as Luther had done, to doubt their efficacy. But, instead of turning from man's works, and seeking to the finished work of Christ, he considered whether he should not plunge once more into the vanities of the age. His soul panted eagerly for that world that he had solemnly renounced; but instantly he recoiled, awe-struck. And was there at this moment any difference between the monk of Manresa and the monk of Erfurth? Doubtless, in secondary points; but their condition of soul was alike. Both were deeply sensible of their sins; both sought peace with God, and desired to have the assurance of it in their hearts. If another Staupitz, with the Bible in his hand, had presented himself at the convent of Manresa, perhaps Inigo might have been known to us as the Luther of the Peninsula. These two remarkable men of the sixteenth century, the founders of two opposing spiritual empires, which, for three centuries, have warred one against the other, were, at this period, brothers; and, perhaps, if they had been thrown together, Luther and Loyola would have rushed into each other's embrace, and mingled their tears and their prayers. But from this moment the two monks were to take opposite courses. Inigo, instead of regarding his remorse as sent to urge him to the foot of the cross, deluded himself with the belief, that his inward compunctions were not from God, but the mere suggestion of the devil; and he resolved not to think any longer of his sins, but to obliterate them for ever from his memory. Luther looked to Christ; Loyola did but turn inward on himself.-D'Aubigné. COMMON SAYINGS. CHILDREN. EDUCATION. [Concluded.] "THE younger brother makes the better gentleman.' I have often heard my grandfather mention this saying in connexion with the history of the lord of the manor of E. The former sir Richard had two sons and several daughters. The elder son was the darling of his parents, especially of his mother. He was suffered to have his own way in every thing. All his whims were gratified, however expensive. The servants were required to do homage to him as the heir to the title and estate. Thus he soon learned to consider himself superior to his brother and sisters, and regarded every thing and every body around as made only to subserve his own purposes. As the elder children of the family were daughters, a governess was engaged to instruct the young ladies; and as the little gentleman became old enough to learn, she sometimes induced him to take a lesson. But it was not often that he chose to do so. In due time, a tutor was appointed for the young gentlemen; but to little purpose, as far as master Richard was concerned, for he would neither be governed nor taught. While his brother was pursuing his studies, he was riding, or shooting, or looking after the dogs, or even gambling with low-lived boys in the stables. The tutor spoke to sir Richard about it. He disapproved of his son's goings on, and desired him to act differently. But sir Richard was often absent from home; and my lady would not have her son restrained or contradicted. So, as soon as his father's back was turned, he bade defiance to his tutor, and went on his own way. Meanwhile, his brother Henry applied diligently to his studies, and made great progress in learning. Both he and his sisters gained universal respect and esteem for their pleasing and gentle manners; while master Richard was the terror of the house and of the village. When remonstrated with by his tutor for his neglect of learning, he would often say that he had no occasion to learn; he should be a gentleman whether he learned or not; and if any of the tenants spoke to him or to his father about the mischief he was continually doing, in trampling down their corn or worrying their animals, he would threaten to punish them for their insolence, when he should become their landlord. In course of time, both the young gentlemen were sent to college; and there, each pursued the same course that he had begun at home. Mr. Henry took his degrees with honour. Mr. Richard barely escaped being expelled in disgrace. It was said |