TREES AND PLEASURE GROUNDS OF PENNSYLVANIA. 



Some mute inglorious Milton of those days may have felt like Woudsworth, 



" A sense of pain when he beheld 

 The silent trees and the intruding sky." 



Our ancestors had a valid excuse for thus destroying the primeval forest. It was to 

 them no longer the good green-wood of merrie England, peopled with fairies, Robin Good- 

 fellow and Puck, hut each tree afforded a secure shelter for the savage Indian, who, with 

 tomahawk and scalping knife, darted from behind the huge grey boles, to inflict a san- 

 guinary death upon those who ventured beyond the " clearings ;" thus he who destroyed 

 a tree brought his labor to an excellent work. But now the times have changed; " trees 

 are notes issued from the bank of nature," increasing in value as the eastern portion of the 

 country is becoming rapidly denuded of wood, and the railroads, which in every direction 

 are weaving a net-work amid the northern forests, consume annually the growth of hun- 

 dreds of acres. Another Evelyn is needed to sound throughout the land a parenesis, to 

 awaken the man of fortune and the farmer to the knowledge that there is pleasure as well 

 as profit in raising something else besides cabbages and monster squashes, for trees will 

 live where not even a turnip will grow. A gentleman in this neighborhood has very 

 wisely offered a premium to any one who plants and makes grow a certain number of 

 forest trees within a limited time. Some such plan as this, generally adopted by Agricul- 

 tural Societies, would have a good effect, and make our bleak hills and waste places 



" One ample theatre of sylvan shade." 



This long digression upon planting brings me at last to the subject with which I in- 

 tended to have commenced — a visit to the Woodlands, near Philadelphia. 



This beautiful place was formerly the seat of William Hamilton, a man of taste, and a 

 patron of the Arts and Natural Sciences. He was a lineal descendant of Andrew Hamil- 

 SON, a Scotchman, well known in the early settlement of Pennsylvania as William 

 Penn's deputy governor. William Hamilton, after his return from Europe in 1784, 

 built a splendid house in the Italian style, on the banks of the Schuylkill, and laid out the 

 grounds around it, giving to the sylvan spot the characteristic name of the Woodlands. 

 The mansion is large, and the rooms, even now, though deserted and unfurnished, present 

 an appearance of elegance; the base walls were once ornamented with fine paintings, and 

 the niches adorned with statues. The works of art have vanished, but the beautiful fea- 

 tures of nature remain unchanged; the view from the stately piazza, over the bright wa- 

 ters and fertile fields, still delights the eye, as it did in daj^s long passed. Seen from that 

 point, the river in its windings presents the appearance of five detached lakes, the inter- 

 vening portion — 



'' " The shado\\-y woodlands hide it, 



And the waters disappear." 



In this smiling retreat Mr. Hamilton delighted to gather together a variety of rare trees 

 and plants, and did much by his enthusiasm, to cultivate a love for such pursuits, when 

 they were less common than at the present day. His hot-houses were extensive, and filled 

 with the floral riches of the tropics, rarely seen in this country half a century ago. An 

 anecdote is related of the Aite that befel one of the first Camellia flowers that bloomed in 

 this country in his green-house; Mr. Hamilton was social in his habits, and accustomed 

 to give large entertainments ; on one one of these occasions, the first flower had expanded, 

 and he, desirous of delighting and astonishing his friends, had directed the gardener to 

 have it in readiness to be placed in the center of the dinner table. At the proper time, as 

 alked towards the green-house to see that his orders were fulfilled, he met one 

 of the party, who had in her hand the prize, the only flower, and stepping 



