grassy nooks; for in such were most of these fancies engendered: and may you experience many delightful days in such spots this ensuing summer, amidst intelligent, warm-hearted friends, male and female.

yet why should I shrink from the avowal? I am healthful, joyous, and contented-love a long walk in the country, and feel grateful that my eyes can still rejoice in the beauties of nature. My person, I fear, ranks as plain; but I flatter myself there is something agreeable in my tout ensemble. My disposition is social; my temper, "a good easy man," probably because I have had little to make me uneasy. Thus much descriptive of myself, though I am loth to leave the subject, fancying a few finishing touches might prepossess you more agreeably in my favour.

Now for the origin of this book of mine, and its title; and this leads me back to speak further of myself. My usual residence is London; but customarily I visit some charming spot in the country, during every summer. A few years since, I visited a friend at Oxford, and from thence proceeded to Stowe, celebrated by Pope, and others, for its tasteful gardens, The then Marquis and his family were from home ; but this allowed me greater freedom in viewing their domains, and having paid my introductory fee to the gardener, I strolled thither whenever I chose. I had taken up my abode at the New Inn, a pleasant hostelrie, situate half-way between Stowe and Buckingham, and wearing more the aspect of a snug farmhouse, than of a noisy comfortless inn.

One morning I sauntered with a book to a favorite haunt of mine in Stowe Gardens; it was a little hidden nook apart from the footpath, and I believe not usually shown to visitors. I discovered it but a few