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S Y LVA B RITA N N 1 C A . 



angry passions, and breathed forth peace and phi- 

 lanthropy. There is a serene and settled majesty in 

 woodland scenery that enters into the soul, and di- 

 lates and elevates it, and fills it with noble incli- 

 nations. The ancient and hereditary groves, too, 

 that embower this island, are most of them full of 

 story. They are haunted by the recollections of 

 great spirits of past ages, who have sought for re- 

 laxation among them from the tumult of arms, or the 

 toils of states, or have wooed the muse beneath their 

 shade. Who can walk, with soul unmoved, among 

 the stately groves of Penhurst, where the gallant, 

 the amiable, the elegant, Sir Philip Sidney passed 

 his boyhood? or can look without fondness upon 

 the tree that is said to have been planted on his 

 birth-dav ? or can ramble among the classic bowers 

 of Hagley ? or can pause among the solitudes of 

 Windsor Forest, and look at the oaks around, huge, 

 gray, and time-worn, like the old castle-towers, and 

 not feel as if he were surrounded by so many monu- 

 ments of long- enduring glory ? It is when viewed 

 in this light, that planted groves, and stately ave- 

 nues, and cultivated parks, have an advantage over 

 the more luxuriant beauties of unassisted nature. 

 It is that they teem with moral associations, and 

 keep up the ever- interesting story of human exist- 

 ence. It is incumbent, then, on the high and gene- 

 rous spirits of an ancient nation, to cherish these 

 sacred groves that surround their ancestral mansions, 



