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tions ; they would then exactly answer to 

 that admirable description of Mr. Mason i 



" The Scottish fir 

 In murky file rears his inglorious head/ 

 And blots the fair horizon." 



Nothing can be more accurately, or more 

 forcibly expressed, or raise a juster image 

 in the mind. Every thick unbroken mass 

 of black, especially when it can be com- 

 pared with softer tints, is a blot ; and has 

 the same effect on the horizon in nature, 

 as if a dab of ink were thrown upon that 

 of a Claude. This, however, is viewing 

 it in its most favourable state, when at 

 least it answers the purpose of a screen, 

 though a heavy one: but it happens full as 

 often, that the outer boughs do not reach 

 above half way down ; and then, besides 

 the long, black, even line which cuts the 

 horizon at the top, there is at bottom a 

 streak of glaring light that pierces every 

 where through the meagre and naked poles, 

 and shews distinctly the poverty and thin- 

 ness of the boundary. Many a common, 



