252 
LETTER TO A FRIEND IN LONDON. 
from town. Part of this exordium you will perceive is embodied in 
my note to you before leaving London, and I have now to follow it up 
by the recital of my impressions and' feelings during this interesting 
visit to Fairfax Hall. 
No bridegroom was ever more elated on the day of his nuptials than 
I was when I stepped into the chaise which conveyed me to the Halh 
1 had heard much of the natural beauties of the place, and of the 
various improvements which had been begun by the grandfather, and 
completed by the father of the present proprietor. Some alterations 
have been made by the latter, but only with the view of perfecting 
what his forefathers only contemplated would be the result of time. 
I have not found that any professional landscape gardener was ever 
consulted as to the arrangement of the gardens and grounds; but it 
might happen that as Mason, author of the English Garden, 5 ” and 
several other amateurs of ornamental gardening were frequent visiters 
at the Hall, hints might be given by those gentlemen, of which the 
proprietor would avail himself. Luckily, the former possessors were 
men of refined taste, and which being inherited in a high degree by 
my friend, the present owner, there is little left for him to do save the 
preservation of the original dispositions. 
It was on this 30th of May, and about 4 p. m., I first caught a view 
of the woods which surround and diversify the park of Fairfax Hall, 
The latter appeared to occupy higher ground than that over which I 
was travelling: the park paling was here and there visible to the left, 
through scattered tufts of forest trees and bushes on a portion of unin¬ 
closed common on the outside of the park. The turnpike-road seemed 
at a quarter of a mile distance from the principal entrance (which at 
the moment struck the eye), as if it led directly through the park; 
because the gates were erected across the right line of the road on 
which I was advancing; but at the distance of about two hundred 
yards from the gates the high road trended away through a vista to the 
right, and disappeared in the woods which extended far in the same 
direction. Through the vista, however, I just caught a glimpse of the 
church spire of the next post town, at the distance of four or five 
miles off. 
The entrance is embosomed in wood; neither the porter’s lodge nor 
gates are extravagantly splendid. The former is a plain, substantial, 
Grecian dwelling; the latter well-designed iron palisade foot pas¬ 
sengers’ and carriage gates, between massive stone piers. The lodge 
is roomy, and fitted up with every convenience for one of the under 
gardeners and his family: it is flanked by its little garden, in which, 
besides common vegetables, there are evergreen shrubs and flow’ers. 
