lns and furnaces,
which never had been removed. Time, however, that had stained the
neglected towers with an antique tint, and had permitted many a
generation of summer birds to build their sunny nests on all the coignes
of vantage of the unfinished walls, had exercised a mellowing influence
even on these rude accessories, and in the course of years they had been
so drenched by the rain, and so buffeted by the wind, and had become so
covered with moss and ivy, that they rather added to then detracted from
the picturesque character of the whole mass.

A few hundred yards from the castle, but situate on the same verdant
rising ground, and commanding, although well sheltered, an extensive
view over the wide park, was the fragment of the old Place that we have
noticed. The rough and undulating rent which marked the severance of
the building was now thickly covered with ivy, which in its gamesome
luxuriance had contrived also to climb up a remaining stack of tall
chimneys, and to spread over the covering of the large oriel window.
This fragment contained a set of pleasant chambers, which, having been
occupied by the late baronet, were of course furnished with great taste
and comfort; and there was, moreover, accommodation sufficient for a
small establishment. Armine Place, before Sir Ferdinand, unfortunately
for his descendants, determined in the eighteenth century on building
a feudal castle, had been situate in famous pleasure-grounds, which
extended at the back of the mansion over a space of some hundred acres.
The grounds in the immediate vicinity of the buildings had of course
suffered severely, but the far greater portion had only been neglected;
and there were some indeed who deemed, as they wandered through the
arbour-walks of this enchanting wilderness, that its beauty had been
enhanced even by this very neglect. It seemed like a forest in a
beautiful romance; a green and bowery wilderness where Boccaccio would
have loved to woo, and Watteau to paint. So artfully had the walks been
planned, that they seemed interminable, nor was there a single point in
the whole pleasaunce where the keenest eye could have detected a limit.
Sometimes you wandered in those arched and winding walks dear to
pensive spirits; sometimes you emerged on a plot of turf blazing in
the sunshine, a small and bright savannah, and gazed with wonder on the
group of black and mighty cedars that rose from its centre, with
their sharp and spreading fo