seemed no end to their various beauties, and no exhaustion of their perpetual novelty. Green retreats succeeded to winding walks; from the shady berceau, you vaulted on the noble terrace; and if, for an instant, you felt wearied by treading the velvet lawn, you might rest in a mossy cell, while your mind was soothed by the soft music of falling waters. Now, your curious eyes were greeted by Oriental animals, basking in a sunny paddock; and when you turned from the white-footed antelope, and the dark-eyed gazelle, you viewed an aviary of such extent, that within its trelliced walls the imprisoned songsters could build, in the free branches of a tree, their natural nests.
"Oh, fair scene!" thought Vivian Grey, as he approached, on a fine summer's afternoon, the splendid Château. "Oh, fair scene! doubly fair to those who quit for you the thronged and agitated city. And can it be, that those who
