whole system of planting, pruning, and thinning, for the purpose of ornament, depends, I must be allowed to dwell a little longer on them.

In a tree, of which the foliage is every where full and unbroken, there can be but little variety of form: then as the sun strikes only on the surface, neither can there be much variety of light and shade: and as the apparent colour of objects changes according to the different degrees of light or of shade in which they are placed, there can be as little variety of tint *: and lastly, as there are none of those openings that excite and nourish curiosity, but the eye is every where opposed by one uniform leafy skreen, there can be as little intricacy as variety. What is here said of a single tree is equally true of every massy combination of them, and appears to me to account perfectly for the bad effect of clumps, and of all plantations and woods where the trees grow close together: in all these cases

* Lux varium vivumque dabit, nullum umbra colorem. Du Fresnoy.

the effect is in one respect much worse; we are disposed to admire the bulk of a single tree, the ipse nemus, though its form should be heavy; but there is a meanness, as well as a heaviness, in the appearance of a lumpy mass, produced by a multitude of little stems.

What are the qualities that painters do admire in single trees, groups, and woods, may easily be concluded from what they do not; the detail would be infinite, for luckily where art does not interfere, the absolute exclusions are few. If their taste be preferable to that of gardeners, it is clear that there is something radically bad in the usual method of making and managing plantations; it otherwise would never happen, that the woods and arrangements of trees which they are least disposed to admire, should be those made for the express purpose of ornament. Under that idea, the spontaneous trees of the country are often excluded as too common, or admitted in small proportions; whilst others of peculiar form and colour, take

place of oak and beech. But of whatever trees the established woods of the country are composed, the same, I think, should prevail in the new plantations, or those two grand principles, harmony, and unity of character, will be destroyed. It is very usual, however, when there happens to be a vacant space between two woods, to fill it up with firs, larches, &c.; if this be done with the idea of connecting those woods, which should be the object, nothing can be more opposite than the effect: even plantations of the same species, require time to make them accord with the old growths; but such harsh and sudden contrasts of form and colour, make these insertions for ever appear like so many awkward pieces of patch-work; and surely if a man were reduced to the necessity of having his coat pieced, he would wish to have the joinings concealed, and the colour matched, and not to be made a harlequin*.

It is not enough that trees should be naturalized to the climate, they must also he naturalized to the landscape,

Trees of a dark colour, or a spire-like form, though when planted in patches they have such a motley appearance, may be so grouped with the prevailing trees of the country, as to produce infinite richness and variety, and yet seem part of the original design; but it appears to be an established rule, that plantations made for ornament, should, both in form and substance, be as distinct as possible from the woods of the country; so that no one may doubt an instant, what are the parts which have been improved. Instead, therefore, of giving to

and mixed and incorporated with the natives. A patch of foreign trees planted by themselves in the out-skirts of a wood, or in some open corner of it, mix with the natives, much like a group of young Englishmen at an Italian conversazione. But when some plant of foreign growth appears to spring up by accident, and shoots out its beautiful, but less familiar foliage among our natural trees, it has the same pleasing effect, as when a beautiful and amiable foreigner has acquired our language and manners so as to converse with the freedom of a native, yet retains enough of original accent and character, to give a peculiar grace and zest to all her words and actions.

nature that * " rich, ample, and flowing robe which she should wear on her throned eminence," instead of "hill united to hill with sweeping train of forest, with prodigality of shade," she is curtailed of her fair proportions, pinched and squeezed into shape; and the prim squat clump is perked up exactly on the top of every eminence. Sometimes, however, where the extent is so great, that common sized clumps would make no figure, it has been very ingeniously contrived to consolidate (and I am sure the word is not improperly used) several of them in one larger lump, and these condensed, unwieldly masses, are at random stuck about the grounds.

In many such plantations the trees

*Mr. Mason's Poem on Modern Gardening, is so well known to all who have any taste for the subject, or for poetry in general, that it is hardly necessary to say, that the words between the inverted cominas are chiefly taken from it. In the part from which I have taken these two passages, he has pointed out the noblest style of planting, in a style of poetry no less noble and elevated.