Page:Blackwood's Magazine volume 014.djvu/127
those which are usually met with in European countries. At the head of the Garden, beyond the house which was once the dwelling of the illustrious Buffon, there grows a magnificent cedar, its head rendered more picturesque by a cannon-ball, which struck it during the Revolution;[1] and from a little hill in the neighbourhood, there is an extensive and beautiful view, not only of the Garden of Plants, with its fine groves and shady terraces, but also of the city itself, with Mont Martre rising like an acropolis in the distance, the old square tower of the Cathedral of Notre Dame, and the golden dome of the Hospital of Invalids.
Between the Garden of Plants properly so called, and that part of it which is devoted to the uses of the Menagerie, there is a broad and deep sunk fence divided by stone walls into several compartments. These are the dwelling-houses of the bears, the awkward notions and singular attitudes of which seem to afford a constant source of amusement to the visitors. Bare leafless trees have been planted in the centre of some of these inclosures, to the top of which Bruin is frequently seen to climb, as if to enjoy the more extended view of the garden, and of the groups of people who crowd its walks. Some of these animals, when they perceive any one looking over their parapet, erect themselves on their hind legs, and, stretching forth their great paws, seem to ask for charity with all the importunity of a moaning beggar. Indeed, they are so much accustomed to have bread and fruit thrown to them by strangers, that the slightest motion of the hand is generally sufficient to make them assume an erect position, which they will maintain for some time, till their strength fail them, and they drop to the ground, testifying by a short and sullen growl their displeasure at having been obliged to play such fantastic tricks to so little purpose. An unfortunate accident befel one of the largest of these creatures some years ago. He was sitting perched near the top of his tree, when his footing gave way, and he was precipitated to the ground. A broken limb was the only disagreeable result of this misfortune. His temper of mind does not, however, appear to have been much mollified by his decreased strength of body, for it was this same animal which caused the death of the unfortunate sentinel who had descended into his area, misled, as it was supposed, by an old button or bit of me-
- ↑ "The largest of the pine tribe on the hillocks, is a cedar of Lebanon, P. Cedrus, the trunk of which measures twelve feet in circumference. The history of this tree, as recited to us by Professor Thouin, is remarkable. In 1736, Bernard de Jussieu, when leaving London, received from Peter Collinson a young plant of Pinus Cedrus, which he placed in a flower-pot, and conveyed in safety to the Paris Gardens. Common report has magnified the exploit by declaring, that Jussieu carried it all the way in the crown of his hat. It is now the identical tree admired for its great size."—Neill's Journal of a Horticultural Tour through Flanders, Holland, and the North of France. This work is no doubt in the hands of every horticulturist, whether professional or amateur. Mr Neill's name is a sufficient pledge for the extent and accuracy of the information which it contains. But the interest of the work is by no means confined to horticultural details. Although these form, as they ought to do, the leading topics of investigation and description, yet the author's eye has been by no means inobservant of other things. His narrative is continually relieved by sensible and ingenious observations on the characteristic manners and aspect of the people, and on the general features of the scenery of the various districts through which his tour extends. The whole book, indeed, is written in a very clear, intelligent style; and, the author's mind being naturally active, and, during this period especially, occupied by subjects of the greatest interest and the highest utility, there is no unsuccessful searching after subjects for the memorandum-book, no necessity for attempting to cover and conceal that vacancy of mind, which is the companion of most modern tourists. "Senza istruzione," says an Italian writer, "non puo aversi utilitá, ne diletto viaggiando; ed è miglior cosa che il ricco incolto nascondo fra le domestiche mura la sua nullitá, e la vergogna della sua ignoranza. With Mr Neill, on the contrary, there was always a delighful subject at hand to occupy the attention, and a constant exercise of intelligence required in comparing what he then witnessed for the first time in foreign countries, with the result of his own past experience at home; and the "Horticultural Tour," recently published, exhibits what, indeed, might have been anticipated from the author's character, although it is rarely met with now-a-days,—great knowledge without the slightest pretension.