life. The various 1 orders of society are therefore diffused over the whole surface of the kingdom, and the most retired neighbourhoods 2 afford specimens of the different ranks.

3

The English, in fact, are strongly gifted with the rural feeling. They possess a quick sensibility to the beauties 4 of nature, and a keen relish for5 the pleasures and enjoyments of the country. This passion seems inherent in them. Even the inhabitants of cities, born and brought up among brick walls and bustling streets, enter with facility into rural habits,7 and evince a turns for rural occupation. The merchant has his snug retreat in the vicinity of the metropolis, where he often displays as much pride and zeal in the cultivation of his flower-garden, and the maturing of his fruits,10 as he does in the conduct of his business and the success of 11 his commercial enterprises. Even those less fortunate individuals, who are doomed to pass their lives 12 in the midst of din and traffic, contrive to have something that shall remind them of the green aspect 13 of nature. In the most dark and dingy quarters of the city, the drawing-room window resembles frequently a bank of flowers ; 14 every spot capable 15 of vegetation has its grass-plot and flower-bed ;16 and every square its mimic 17 park, laid out with picturesque taste 18 and gleaming with refreshing verdure.

Those who see the Englishman only in town, are apt to form an unfavourable 19 opinion of his social character. He

7 Translate, contract easily the habits of the country.'

8 un instinct singulier. 9 See page 22, note 7.

11 qu'à diriger sa maison (this word is used as a commercial term) ou à réussir dans.

12 Use the singular.

13 tâchent du moins, par une douce illusion, de se représenter l'aspect. 14 un parterre.

15 In this sense, susceptible is more properly used than capable, when speaking of things, not of persons.

16 et ses plates-bandes.
17 artificiel.

18 See page 25, note 16, page 27,

10 à disposer élégamment son note 8, &c. parterre et à cultiver ses fruits.

19 défavorable; or, peu favo

is either absorbed in business, or distracted by the thousand engagements that dissipate1 time, thought, and feeling, in this huge metropolis: he has, therefore, too commonly a look of hurry and abstraction.2 Wherever he happens to be, he is on the point of going somewhere else; at the moment he is talking on one subject, his mind is wandering to 5 another; and while paying a friendly visit, he is calculating how he shall economise time so as to pay the other visits allotted to the morning.7 An immense metropolis like London is calculated to make men selfish and uninteresting. In their casual and transient meetings, they can but deal briefly in common-places. They present but the cold superficies of 10 character-its rich and genial qualities have no time to be warmed into a glow.1

11

It is in the country that the Englishman gives scope to his natural feelings. He breaks loose gladly from the cold formalities and negative 12 civilities of town; throws off his habits of shy reserve, and becomes joyous and freehearted.13 He manages to collect around him all the conveniences and elegancies of polite life, and to banish its restraint. His country-seat abounds with every requisite, either for studious retirement, tasteful gratification,14 or rural exercise. Books, paintings, music, horses, dogs, and sporting implements of all kinds, are at hand. He puts no constraint either upon his guests or himself,15 but

in the true spirit of hospitality provides the means of enjoyment, and leaves every one to partake according to his inclination.-—(WASHINGTON IRVING, Sketch Book.)

MOONLIGHT SCENERY.4

THE wind had arisen, and swept before it 5 the clouds which had formerly obscured the sky. The moon was high, and at the full, and all the lesser satellites of heaven shone forth in cloudless effulgence. The scene which their light presented 7 was in the highest degree unexpected and striking.

6

In the latter part of his journey our traveller approached the sea shore, without being aware how nearly. He now perceived that the ruins of Ellangowan castle were situated upon a promontory, or projection of rock, which formed. one side of a small and placid bay on the sea-shore.10 The modern mansion was placed lower, though closely adjoining, and the ground behind it descended to the sea by a small swelling green bank, divided into levels by natural terraces on which grew some old trees, and terminating upon the white sand.11 The other side of the bay, opposite to the old castle, was a sloping and varied promontory, covered chiefly with copsewood, 12 which on that favoured

6

1

coast grows almost within water-mark. A fisherman's cottage peeped from among 2 the trees. Even at this dead hour of night there were lights moving3 upon the shore, probably occasioned by the unloading a smuggling lugger from 5 the Isle of Man, which was lying in the bay. the light from the sashed door of the house being observed, a halloo from the vessel, "Ware hawk! Douse the glim!" alarmed those who were on shore, and the lights instantly disappeared.8

On

It was one hour after midnight, and the prospect around was lovely. The grey old towers of the ruin, partly entire, partly broken 10-here bearing the rusty weather stains of ages,11 and there partially mantled with ivy, stretched along the verge of the dark rock which rose on the right hand. 12 In front was the quiet bay, whose little waves, 13 crisping and sparkling to the moonbeams,14 rolled successively along its surface, and dashed with a soft and murmuring ripple against 15 the silvery beach. To the left, the woods advanced far into the ocean, waving 16 in the moonlight along ground of an undulating and varied. form, and presenting those varieties of light and shade, and that interesting combination of glade and thicket, upon which the eye delights to rest, charmed with what it sees, yet curious to pierce still deeper into the intricacies of the

woodland scenery." 17 Above rolled the planets, each, by

its own liquid orbit of light, distinguished from inferior or more distant stars. So strangely can imagination deceive even those by whose volition it has been excited,2 that Mannering, while gazing upon these brilliant bodies, was half-inclined 3 to believe in the influence ascribed to them by superstition over human events.5—(W. Scott, Guy Mannering.)

LADY MONTAGU TO MRS. THISTLETHWAYTE.

[A familiar Letter.]

Adrianople, April 1, 1718.

I CAN now tell dear Mrs. Thistlethwayte that I am safely arrived at the end of my very long journey. I will not tire you with the account of the many fatigues I have suffered. You would rather be informed of the strange things that are to be seen here;10 and a letter out of Turkey that has nothing extraordinary in it,11 would be as great a disappointment as my visitors will receive at London if I return thither without any rareties to show them.

What shall I tell you of? 12-You never saw 13 camels in your life; and perhaps the description of them will appear