of turf of this kind and quality, and in a situation like this,
is perfectly unique, and perhaps indescribable. It is supposed to be,
and in fact is, for all purposes of preservation and beauty, sacred
from the foot of man or beast; and the feeling arising from this
circumstance, added to the exquisite natural adaptation of the object
itself to the purposes of rest and relief from the almost dazzling
architectural splendour of the surrounding objects, is such as cannot
be communicated by any other means whatever, and we might in vain
attempt to describe. It is of such a kind, however, that those who
are capable of experiencing it, would as soon think of treading upon
the object that conveys it to them, as those who honour Nature would
think of rooting up a nest of violets. Speaking for ourselves alone,
there is but one thing that can disturb and deteriorate the absolute
tranquillity of mind, and peace of heart, which fall upon us, like
dew from heaven, on entering a place like that we have attempted to
describe above; it is, to see a capped and gowned Fellow, profaning
with his footsteps the floor of that, in some sort, sacred temple,
merely because he can, by so doing, reach his habitation by a few
footsteps less than if he kept to the path allotted for him. We look
upon the act as a species of impiety; to say nothing of its proving,
to a demonstration, that the person who commits it is either utterly
insensible to the mysterious harmony that subsists between a certain
class of natural objects and the heart of man; or utterly disregards
that harmony, and sets it at naught. He is, in fact, one of whom it
may in one sense be said, that

"He hath no music in his soul."

And we are almost tempted to complete the quotation, by adding--

"Let no such man be trusted!"

* * * * *

A RUSTIC PAIR.

_By Miss Mitford_.

Few damsels of twelve years old, generally a very pretty age, were
less pretty that Hannah Bint. Short and stunted in her figure, thin
in face, sharp in feature, with a muddled complexion, wild sun-burnt
hair, and eyes, whose very brightness had in them something startling,
over-informed, super-subtle, too clever for her age. At twelve years
old she had quite the air of a little old fairy. Now, at seventeen,
matters are mended. Her complexion has cleared; her countenance, her
figure, has shot up into height and brightness, and a sort of rustic
grace; her bright, acut