ench; that one of them (who instituted the first
annual exhibition of flowers) died at the age of ninety-nine years,
having had thirty-three children; and that his son (mentioned by
Collinson, as famous for forest trees) introduced the moss-rose, planted
the elm trees now growing in the Bird-cage Walk, St. James's Park, from
trees reared in his own nursery, married two wives, had thirty-five
children, and died in 1783, in the same room in which he was born, at
the age of a hundred and one years. Reflecting on the great age of some
of the above, reminds me of what a "Journal Encyclopedique" said of
Lestiboudois, another horticulturist and botanist, who died at Lille, at
the age of ninety, and who (for even almost in our ashes _live their
wonted fires_) gave lectures in the very last year of his life. "When he
had (says an ancient friend of his) but few hours more to live, he
ordered snow-drops, violets, and crocuses, to be brought to his bed, and
compared them with the figures in Tournefort. His whole existence had
been consecrated to the good of the public, and to the alleviation of
misery; thus he looked forward to his dissolution with a tranquillity of
soul that can only result from a life of rectitude; he never acquired a
fortune; and left no other inheritance to his children, but integrity
and virtue."

[61] About eighty years previous to Hyll's Treatise on Bees, Rucellai,
an Italian of distinction, who aspired to a cardinal's hat, and who
laboured with zeal and taste (I am copying from De Sismondi's View of
the Literature of the South of Europe) to render Italian poetry
classical, or a pure imitation of the ancients, published his most
celebrated poem on Bees. "It receives (says De Sismondi) a particular
interest from the real fondness which Rucellai seems to have entertained
for these creatures. There is something so sincere in his respect for
their virgin purity, and in his admiration of the order of their
government, that he inspires us with real interest for them. All his
descriptions are full of life and truth."

[62] Ben Jonson, in his _Discourses_, gives the following eulogy on this
illustrious author:--"No member of his speech but consisted of his own
graces. His hearers could not cough or look aside from him without loss.
He commanded where he spoke, and had his judges angry and pleased at his
devotion: no man had their affections more in his power; the fear of
every man that heard him was, lest he should