and kindly lighted for us, by the order, doubtless, of the noble and generous master of the place. Descending from the steps of this Summer House, the splendid avenue leading from them shows all its many beauties It is indeed a matchless strip of green earth, noble under all aspects, and in all seasons. At various distances through its length, seats are placed for the repose of the weary, attached to which are printed quotations from the poets for their delight and inspiration.
Under the balcony on the path which leads by the river, almost dark with thick umbrageous branches, we now take our way. Here Nature has her own will, and it is a sweet one, order in disorder, life many-formed and many-hued everywhere. And here is the river musical and magnificent. How pleasantly it unites its sweet symphonies with the sunshine and the breeze, and the fluttering, yet incessant quirings of the overhanging woods; and when these have all ceased,
“When thickest dark doth trance the sky,”
it will still harmonize. Nature never strikes the wrong note. The holy stars and the silent solemn earth will be to-night the wrapt auditors of this eternal wanderer—this awful orator whom time and death never disable, never still.
Returning from here, and down the avenue, we come to “the coups,” where the sheeny waters of the river are broken into foam and fury; but under all forms the river here is grand and glorious—a real thing of beauty, making as it did ours, the heart dance with supremest joy. From this spot there is a beautiful
