Landscape Gardening. 



wishing to leave the people in a state of doubt he immediately, with eom- 

 inondable discretion, underscored the words, " This is a Pig." 



Landscape Gardening has materially changed in the last half century. 

 Avenues of trees which formerly graced every abode pretending to suburb- 

 an dignity, have now given place to a more natural style of planting. The 

 group at present finds favor, as being more particularly in keeping with na- 

 ture. But this taste has thus far only impreg-nated the higher cultivated 

 class, by whom we mean, those whose leisure and predilection, have led 

 them to cultivate their niral inclinations as a speciality. Large grounds 

 are mainly composed of a succession of groups, comprising thickets and 

 woods, interspersed with the smaller group of from two to a dozen trees, 

 but so judiciously arranged, and so harmonious to nature, as to be perfect 

 ».'< a whole. The principle of grouping may be extended with pleasing re- 

 sults, even to the smallest place, which however demands very nice judg- 

 ment. Thickets are occasionally introduced with happy effect, for instance, 

 to screen a change in the order of planting. In wandering around a curve, 

 with the objects beyond obscured from view, an entirely different scene 

 breaks with all its invigorating freshness upon our admiration. A little 

 hillock, reposing perdu in some sequestered nook, oft-times imparts a zest 

 to landscape not attainable )iy bolder and more ambitious objects. The 

 modem style of landscape making is beautifully adapted to the rapid for- 

 mation of scenery in localities covered by forests. By the proper and care- 

 ful thinning out of ill shapen and unnecessary trees, they can in a few years 

 be metamorposed from a wild wood into a cheerful landscape, full of finely 

 toned shadows, rendered doubly attractive by pendulous luxuriant trees, 

 sweeping the sun-lit green sward as if it were a love-making, twixt the em- 

 erald grass and and her majestic companion. 



••****" The uooaday sua 

 Now shone upon the forest, one vast mass 

 Of mingling shade, whose brown magnificence 



A narrow vale embosoms. 



****** 



The meeting boughs, and implicated leaves 

 Wave twilight o'er the poet's path, as led 

 By love, or dream, or God, or mightier death, 

 He sought in nature's dearest haunt, some bank — 

 Her cradle and his sepulchre. More dark 

 And dark the shades accumulate — the oak, 

 Extending its immense and knotty arms, 

 Embraces the light beech. The pyramids 

 Of the tall cedar overarching frame 

 Most solemn domes within — and far below 



