lse but in
Old England--except indeed in New England, where I know not whether it
be from the country having assimilated itself to the people, or from the
people having chosen the country from the resemblance to their own
paternal dwelling place, many a scene strikes the eye which brings back
to the wandering Englishman all the old, dear feelings of his native
land, and for a moment he may well forget that the broad Atlantic rolls
between him and the home of his youth.

But let me return to my picture. Sir Philip Hastings sat upon his
horse's back, very nearly at the summit of the long range of hills which
bisected the county in which he dwelt. I have described, in mentioning
his park, the sandy character of the soil on the opposite slope of the
rise; but here higher up, and little trodden by pulverizing feet, the
sandstone rock itself occasionally broke out in rugged maps,
diversifying the softer characteristics of the scene. Wide, and far
away, on either hand, the eye could wander along the range, catching
first upon some bold mass of hill, or craggy piece of ground, assuming
almost the character of a cliff, seen in hard and sharp distinctness,
with its plume of trees and coronet of yellow gorse, and then,
proceeding onward to wave after wave, the sight rested upon the various
projecting points, each softer and softer as they receded, like the
memories of early days, till the last lines of the wide sweep left the
mind doubtful whether they were forms of earth or clouds, or merely
fancy.

Such was the scene on either hand, but straightforward it was very
different, but still quite English. Were you ever, reader, borne to the
top of a very high wave in a small boat, and did you ever, looking down
the watery mountain, mark how the steep descent, into the depth below,
was checkered by smaller waves, and these waves again by ripples? Such
was the character of the view beneath the feet of the spectator. There
was a gradual, easy descent from the highest point of the whole county
down to a river-nurtured valley, not unbroken, but with lesser and
lesser waves of earth, varying the aspect of the scene. These waves
again were marked out, first by scattered and somewhat stunted trees,
then by large oaks and chestnuts, not undiversified by the white and
gleaming bark of the graceful birch. A massive group of birches here and
there was seen; a scattered cottage, too, with its pale bluish wreath of
smoke curling up over the tree-