UNCLE IN ENGLAND. 67 



burst out in the evening, and join their fra- 

 grance to that of the orange groves. Indeed, 

 all these things were so strongly pictured in my 

 mind, that I could almost have thought myself 

 walking amongst them. 



Caroline, in her ardent manner, expressed a 

 wish to visit this interesting scene ; but quiet 

 Mary repeated a few stanzas of a poem supposed 

 to be written by a European in South America. 

 Two of them are worth sending you. 



In the silence and grandeur of midnight I tread, 

 Where savannahs in boundless magnificence spread; 

 And, bearing sublimely their snow-wreaths on high, 

 The far Cordilleras unite with the sky. 



The fern-tree waves o'er me the fire-fly's red light 

 With its quick glancing splendour illumines the night; 

 And I read, in each tint of the skies and the earth, 

 How distant my steps from the land of my birth. 



21th. I do not wonder at the attachment 

 you feel, Mamma, to this place : it is, indeed, 

 very pretty. These wooded banks, arid green 

 lawns and fields that slope towards the Severn, 

 and form such a lovely view from some of the 

 windows ! But there is no view so pretty to my 

 fancy, as that from the little bedchamber which 

 my aunt has been so kind as to allot to me. I 

 have a glimpse of the river and its woody banks ; 

 and very near my window there is a group of 

 laburnums, and an old fir-tree, in which there 

 are numbers of little birds, that I amuse myself 



