he was a great admirer of forest scenery tiful trees. He tells us and beau Here waving groves a chequer'd scene display, Thin trees arise that shun each other's shades. He speaks of "thy trees, fair Windsor," and of the happiness of him Who to these shades retires, Whom nature charms, and whom the muse inspires. And concludes with the following charming description of his own feelings in these forestal haunts. My humble muse, in unambitious strains, First in these shades I sung the sylvan strains. It is impossible to pass along the drives in this part of the forest, without being struck with the many specimens of fine old oaks and beeches growing into each other, so as almost to appear as one tree, thus reminding me of the following lines— See the tall oak his spreading arms entwines, And with the beech a mutual shade combines. * Before the enclosure of the forest, the adjoining plains were covered with the beautiful purple flowers of the heath. Patches of it may still be seen. group Sometimes a little of thorns or hollies may be seen growing round their trunks, or a patch of fern or fox-glove adds to the scenery. Indeed, my walks and drives in the recesses of woods are always agreeable. All is quiet repose, or nothing but pleasing sounds are heard; and these afford a gratification of no ordinary kind. During the heat of summer there is a delightful shade; and I never think of those charming lines of Virgil O quis me gelidis in vallibus Hæmi without fancying that they must have been uttered by many a thoughtful moralist, " as he lay along under an oak," beholding "the sobbing deer," and enjoying the shade, while the "brawling brook" glided onward at his feet. The human mind is, perhaps, in its happiest state of enjoyment when the works of nature are spreading forth their charms for wonder and consideration. No one can feel solitary when so employed, even on the hill's side, or in the deepest recesses of our woodlands. Sic ego secretis possim bene vivere sylvis Qua nulla humano sit via trita pede HIM they lov❜d Ev'n in his meanest creatures; reverenc'd HIM THE more I consider the subject, the more difficult it appears to fix any limit to the faculties of the animal creation. Under peculiar circumstances, animals will frequently evince a degree of sense truly surprizing, and also extricate themselves from difficulties and dangers which man, with all his reasoning powers, would never have accomplished. They have perseverance, strong affections, fidelity, and a degree of memory both as to time and persons, which only those who have been in the habit of attending to these faculties in animals, would give them credit for. A few instances may serve to illustrate these remarks. The late Duke of Hamilton had a favourite Bull Dog, called Dumplin, who was in the habit for some years of accompanying the Duke in hist carriage to Hamilton. While he was still very healthy, and far from an old dog, a younger favourite was selected as the companion of the Duke, and Dumplin was left behind. The dog saw his rival get into the carriage and depart, and from that moment he became indifferent to his food, rejected it, and drooped and pined. The servants, in whose care he was left, sent for a dogdoctor, who, however, was not able to ascertain that anything was the matter with the poor animal. At last he enquired whether any unusual event had occurred, likely to occasion the state in which he found the dog. The servants then related the above circumstance of his not having been allowed to accompany his master as usual. "Oh," exclaimed the doctor, "I can do nothing for him; the creature is broken-hearted, and will die." This appeared to be the case. The poor affectionate animal died very shortly afterwards. A gentleman, well known for his kindness and benevolence, but whose name I am requested not to mention, was, in consequence of his fondness for reading, almost constantly in his library. While residing in London, he was disturbed one day by a Cat coming down the chimney, and jumping upon his knees, as if to claim his protection. The animal was wounded, and had evidently been much ill-treated. It came, however, to find a friend, and found one. The kind-hearted owner of the house allowed the cat to remain in his lap, and soothed it with his voice, while it licked its wounds. A mutual attachment was the consequence. The cat showed her gratitude by following her protector wherever she was able to do so, and was his companion into Italy and various other countries; and seemed to have lost that fondness for one locality which is so peculiar in these animals. Unlike many favourites, the cat lived to a good old age, evincing her attachment to the last moment of her life. A friend of mine, who resided much on the continent, had a fine Newfoundland Dog at his country-seat in England. On one of his occasional visits to this place, he was accompanied by a courier, who amused himself with the dog, teaching him to jump over a stick, to fetch logs of wood for the fire, and other tricks. During the' absence of the master of the house, the dog was kept chained up in the yard, and the person left in charge of the house was ignorant of the dog's accomplishments. At the end of nearly four years, Mr. S. returned to England, and sent his courier to the house to await his arrival at it. The dog, on hearing the courier's voice, immediately recognized it, and shewed his delight in a manner not to be misunderstood. On being let loose, he began to jump as he had formerly been taught to do; and on the courier's seating himself by the kitchen fire, the dog went into the yard, without any signal whatever having been given, and brought log after log of wood, and deposited them at the feet of his former instructor; thus shewing the retentiveness of his memory after so long a period of time. A family of my acquaintance, whose strictness |