lovely road, the beauty of which few can conceive who
have not been in England; but the fresh, _pure_ air on the Heath,
infused a new feeling, a realization of unalloyed happiness; we were
rapidly hastening toward scenes for which the soul was yearning, and
hope, bright, young hope, lent wings and a charm to every object,
animate and inanimate.
The usual relay of fresh horses were in waiting at Cranburn Bridge,
and the reeking bloods were instantly changed for others, not a whit
less spirited than their released compeers. Away went Moody, and away
went Moody's fiery steeds. In a very short time we passed, at a few
miles on the hither side of Slough, the "ivy-mantled tower" of Upton
Church, which, but for one or two small, square openings in it, may be
mistaken for a gigantic bush, or unshapely tree of evergreen ivy.
Arriving at Slough, I bade adieu to Master Moody; the forty feet
telescope of Herschel, with its complicated frame-work and machinery,
attracting only a few minutes attention. The road leading up to Stoke
Green is one of those beautiful lanes so exquisitely described by
Gilbert White, in his History of Selborne, or still more graphically
portrayed by Miss Mitford, in her Tales of our Village. Stoke Green
lies to the right of this lane, and at the distance of one or two
fields further on, there is a stile in the corner of one of them, on
the left, where a foot-path crosses diagonally. In going through a gap
in the hedge, you catch the first peep of the spire of Stoke Church.
After passing the field, you come to a narrow lane, overhung with
hawthorns; it leads from Salt-Hill to the village of West-End Stoke.
Keeping along the lane a short way, and passing through a small gate
on the top of the bank, you at once enter the domain of Stoke Park,
and are admitted to a full view of the church, which stands at a short
distance, but almost immediately within the gate, are particularly
struck by the appearance of a grand sarcophagus, erected by Mr. Penn
to the memory of Gray, in the year 1779. It is a lofty structure, in
the purest style of architecture; and a tolerable idea of it, and the
surrounding scenery, may be obtained from the cut at the head of this
article, which has been executed from a drawing made on the spot. The
inscription and quotations following are on the several sides of the
pedestal. It is needless to say they are from the Elegy, and Ode to
Eton College--the latter poem being unquestionably wri
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