whole hill-country thereabout, in honour of the lady’s charms to whom he afterwards gave his hand. Such at least was my creed, for the time, when I enjoyed a delightful walk over the scenes in the company of intelligent persons whose remarks often heightened not a little the extraordinary pleasures of the day. Among the Bishop’s guests, at breakfast, there was the usual planning of occupations for the morning, and I heard with great satisfaction the proposal of a walk to Forest-Hill, in which it was supposed I might be glad to share. Our party was soon made up, consisting of the Archdeacon, the Rev. Mr. J——, Sir C—— A——, a young Etonian closely related to the Bishop’s family, and the Bishop’s youngest son. After some preliminary reconnoiterings about the hamlet of Cuddesdon itself, (of which the adjoining slopes and meadows furnish very pretty views,) off we went, well shod and with sturdy staves in hand, and in all respects well-appointed for an English ramble; which implies everything requisite for thorough enjoyment of the diversion. We stretched our legs, as Walton would say, over Shotover-Hill, encountering a variety of rustic objects in the fields and farms; here a fold of sheep, and there a hedge, and again a ditch, or a turnip-field, but everything in its turn was of interest to me as presenting, in some form or other, a contrast to similar objects in my own country, the advantage being generally in favor of England, so far as the picturesque is concerned. I can indeed think of many a walk in America, incomparably more interesting than this in the character of its scenery; but what I mean is, that the same kind of country with us, would have been almost devoid of interest. Thus, instead of presenting field after field, cultivated like a garden, beautifully hedged and exhibiting every mark of careful husbandry; or a succession of green pastures, in which fine cattle, and the whitest and fattest of sheep were disposed in a manner entirely suitable to the painter; or instead of a succession of views of the most pleasing variety; here a hamlet and spire, and there a neat cottage, and there a lordly mansion among trees, and there a snug farmhouse: the same number of miles with us, over a slightly undulating country, devoted to pasturage and farming, would scarcely have offered a single scene on which the eye could rest with satisfaction. At length, we reached Shotover-Lodge, which has unfortunately been rebuilt within the last hundred years, but the original of which supplies the ideal of those famous lines in _L’Allegro_— “Russet lawns and fallows gray Where the nibbling flocks do stray; Towers and battlements it sees Bosomed high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighboring eyes.”