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MOUNT EDGECUMBE.

buildings, like an immense town, broken and diversified by fortifications, arsenals, batteries, &c. so as not to look like a mere field of roofs and chimneys; and, in bird's-eye view, line-of-battle ships and frigates pássing under your feet, with as little ceremony as boats on a river. Thence the walk, turning to the right, ascends higher grounds still, to a plain on the top, where an old

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gothic church stands, (C) with a tower serving for signals. A path along the heights, and across a wood, brings you back to the place of beginning,a walk of two or three miles, which took us something less than three hours.

There is nothing done at Mount Edgecumbe which a gentleman of moderate fortune could not perform; and nature herself has been at no great expense of bold rocks or mountains; it is a lump of earth sloping to the water, more or less abruptly, but with great variety, and deeply indented with bays. The great charm is the contrast of the loneliness and retirement of the objects near you, with the lively scene and richness, and immensity, bursting on the river here and there; and, upon the whole, this comes nearer to my ideas of beauty, than any spot I ever saw. The green walk, particularly, I shall ever recollect. Laurels of such bright verdure, with large shining leaves; the arbutus, and laurustinus, covered with blossoms; another evergreen tree, resembling the wild cherry of America, (Portugal laurel we are told); then such draperies of ivy, in ample folds over the rocks and trees; such pines with moss of all colours, along the trunk and branches; and on the ground turf as vivid as in the spring, with daisies and periwinkles in flower, and fern, and furze with papilionaceous blossoms. Then through the trees, far below, the surf breaking in measured time, and spreading its white foam among the black rocks of the shore.

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The sun had no share in the splendour of the scene, for it was not visible, nor any part of the sky; a misty, drizzly something, like rain, drove along in the blast, and made us tolerably wet; particularly as some deceitful appearances of fair weather, and the heat, had induced us to

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leave our umbrellas and great coats at the lodge. On our return to the hotel, we shifted and dried ourselves; called for a post-chaise, and pursued our journey through an endless succession of streets, and arsenals, and dock-yards, and barracks, two miles in length, some of which we might have seen, but felt no sort of inclination. At last we regained the country. It is pretty enough; the same waving surface, checquered with enclosures, and dotted with cottages and gentlemen's houses, all with their dark masses of pines and firs, and the same thickets of laurel, arbutus, and laurestinus, as at Mount Edgecumbe. The cottages are all thatched, the walls partly stone, and partly pisai, and with casements. The people, in general look healthy and clean; much fewer children to be seen about the houses than in America,

January 3.-Slept at Ivy-bridge, a pretty name, and a pretty place;-wall-flowers full blown here, and in many places on the road,-and of course much ivy about it, and a clear boisterous little stream. The house superlatively comfortable; such empressement to receive you, such readiness. to fulfil every wish, as soon as expressed, such good rooms, and so well furnished, such good things to eat, and so well dressed. This is really the land of conveniences, and it is not to be wondered at that the English should complain of foreign inconveniences in travelling. All this politeness and zeal has, no doubt, a sordid motive; you are caressed for your money; but the caresses of the world have not in general a much purer motive. This semblance of bienveillance should not be blamed hastily. Fair raiments do not always may be as well to remain ignorant of the defects of the mind, as of those of

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the person; to suspect them is quite enough. The roads are far from magnificent; they are generally just wide enough for two carriages; without ditches, but well gravelled with pounded stones, and, though very dirty, not deep. A high artificial bank of stone and earth, with bushes growing on the top, too often intercepts all view beyond the next bend of the road, not a hundred yards of which is visible at one time. The horses are in general weak and tired, and unmercifully whipt, so much so, as to induce us often to interfere in their behalf, choosing rather to go slower than to witness such cruelty.

January 4.-We slept last night at Exeter, and are arrived at Taunton; 64 miles in two days. We are in no haste. The approach of Exeter is very fine; you see from a hill the vast extent of country below, with an estuary at a distance, and hills in gentle swells lost in the horizon; it gives the idea of an ocean of cultivation. The cathedral is a venerable pile, built in the year 900, (my informa tion comes from the old woman who showed it). Outside it appeared to me less light and airy than Gothic architecture generally is, according to my recollections. Objects seen again, after an interval of many years, appear no longer the same, although unchanged in reality, and although we have not seen, in the meantime, any other objects of the same kind that could alter the scale of our ideas. Memory is not a book where things and events are recorded, but rather a field where seeds grow, come to maturity, and die. The silent operation of time on all that lives, perfecting and destroying in regular succession, seems to extend to the mechanical skill of our fingers. The artist draws better after laying down his pencil

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for sometime, or plays better on an instrument; fencing, swimming, are improved likewise. We have, however, neither studied nor practised; the mind, as far as we know, has been inactive, as well as the hand. Should we know little before the interruption, we are apt indeed to forget that little; but, if the skill was sufficiently perfect, it increases during a certain period of inaction; becomes stationary when longer intermitted; and is lost at last by protracted disuse.

The inside of the church is too light, I mean too eclairé, and the painted windows are not good. Those at one end were painted 400 years ago, my old woman said, and the other end within her remembrance; the one too early, probably, to be good, and the other too late. But when the service began, we forgot the church, and every thing else, in the beauty of the chant;— angels in heaven cannot sing better! The organ, sweet, powerful, and solemn, formed a single accompaniment, without foppish flourishing :-the whole effect superior to my recollections of the plein chant. Music and poetry are certainly nearly allied; one is the mellow and vague distance, where all is blended into harmony, the other is the vigorous foreground, where every object is clearly defined, and distinctly seen; the one awakens poetical enthusiasm in yourself; the other shews you what it has produced in others.

The roads are full of soldiers, on foot and in carriages, travelling towards Plymouth;-Portugal and India supposed to be their destination. The villages along the road are in general not beautiful, the houses very poor indeed; the walls old and rough, but the windows generally whole and clean; no old hats or bundles of rags stuck in,

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