Immediately under the eye, the gaudy Shrub, and the ornamental though useless Exotic, may be admitted; but for more distant objects, and in less embellished situations, the Timber tree ought to prevail. We should endeavour to make such a choice, as will gratify the present age, and benefit the future.

In mixing trees, there is, in respect of height, a general rule: the tallest should be made to occupy the central parts, descending gradually to the margin: but, with respect to colour, all precept, perhaps, would be vague; the tints ought to be as wild and various as evening clouds, tinged by the setting sun.

FOR farther remarks on this subject, see the following MINUTES IN PRACTICE.

SECTION THE SIXTH.

NATURAL ACCOMPANIMENTS.

THE most judicious mixture of wood and lawn appears dull and uninteresting, when unaccompanied by animated nature. What sprightliness VOL. I.

S

and elegance are added to the plain, in the playful attitudes and racings of the horse!-and how much additional grandeur the vale receives in the scattered herd!—How strikingly beautiful the bosom of a hill enlivened by the pasturing flock!—What gaiety is given to park scenery, in the airy action of the fawn;-and how peculiarly delightful the sequestered lawn, while the hare is present! Even the squirrel gives a chearfulness to the grove: while the plumy tribes disperse an agreeable animation through the whole scene.

SECTION THE SEVENTH.

FACTITIOUS ACCOMPANIMENTS.

UNDER this head, we arrange Fences, Walks, Roads, Bridges, Seats, and Buildings.

THE FENCE, where the place is large, becomes necessary: yet the eye dislikes constraint. Our ideas of liberty carry us beyond our species: the imagination feels a dislike in seeing even the brute creation in a state of confinement. Beside, a

tall fence frequently hides, from the sight, objects the most pleasing; not only the flocks and herds, but the surface they graze upon. These considerations have brought the unseen fence into general use.

THIS species of barrier, it must be allowed, incurs a degree of deception, which can scarcely be warranted, upon any other occasion. In this instance, however, it is a species of fraud which we observe in nature's practice: how often have we seen two distinct herds feeding, to appearance, in the same extended meadow; until coming abruptly upon a deep-sunk rivulet, or an unfordable river, we discover the deception.

BESIDES the sunk fence, another sort of unseen barrier may be made, though by no means equal to that; especially if near the eye. This is constructed of paling, painted of the invisible greene If the colour of the back ground were permanent, and that of the paint made exactly to correspond with it, the deception would, at a distance, be complete; but backgrounds, in general, changing with the season, this kind of fence is the less eligible.

MASSES and Tufts of woodiness, scattered promiscuously on either side of an unseen winding

fence, assist

very much in doing away the idea of constraint. For by this means

The wand'ring flocks that brouse between the shades,
Seem oft to pass their bounds, the dubious eye
Decides not if they crop the mead or lawn.

MASON.

THE WALK, in extensive grounds, is as necessary as the Fence. The beauties of the place are disclosed that they may be seen; and it is the office of the walk to lead the eye from view to view; in order that, while the tone of health is preserved, by the favourite exercise of nature, the mind may be thrown into unison, by the harmony of the surrounding objects.

THE direction of the walk ought to be guided by the points of view to which it leads, and the nature of the ground it passes over: it ought to be made subservient to the natural impedimentsthe Ground, Wood, and Water-which fall in its way, without appearing to have any direction of its own. It can seldom, with propriety, run any distance, in a straight line; a thing which rarely occurs in a natural walk. The paths of the Negroes, and the Indians, are always crooked; and those of the brute creation are very similar. Mr. Mason's description of this Path of Nature is happily conceived.

The peasant driving through each shadowy lane
His team, that bends beneath th’incumbent weight

Of laughing CERES, marks it with his wheel;
At night and morn, the milk-maid's careless step
Has, thro' yon pasture green, from stile to stile
Imprest a kindred curve; the scudding hare
Draws to her dew-sprent seat, o'er thymy heaths,
A path as gently waving.
Eng. Gard. v. 60.

THE ROAD may be a thing of necessity, as an approach to the mansion, or a matter of amusement only, as a drive or a ride, from which the grounds, and the surrounding country, may be seen to advantage. It should be the study of the artist to make the same road answer, as far as may be, the two-fold purpose.

THE Road and the Walk are subject to the same rule of Nature and Use. The direction ought to be natural and easy, and adapted to the purpose intended. A Road of necessity ought to be straighter than one of mere conveniency: in this, recreation is the predominant idea; in that, utility. But, even in this, the direct line may be dispensed with. The natural roads upon heaths and open downs, and the grassy glades and green roads across forests and extensive wastes, are proper subjects to be

studied.

THE BRIDGE should never be seen where it is not wanted: a useless bridge is a deception; deceptions are frauds; and fraud is always hateful;