254 
LETTER TO A FRIEND IN LONDON. 
wood, the chaise entered under a semicircular arch into a spacious 
court surrounded by offices, and stopped at the steps of the back portico 
of the house. 
Alighting here, I was ushered through a lobby, across a splendid 
hall, and into the drawing-room, where I was received with all that 
urbanity and kind-heartedness so characteristic of my excellent friend 
and his amiable family. Salutations over, and every inquiry which 
sincere friendship and gratitude mutually asked and answered, I was 
irresistibly drawn to the windows to gain a more comprehensive idea 
of the park and surrounding country. . My first impressions soon after 
entering the former, awakened the most intense curiosity to have a 
bird’s-eye view of the whole; and the manner I was conducted to the 
house did not at all tend to satisfy, but rather to increase that curiosity. 
I had approached by a kind of f< covered way;” and when I looked 
from the windows scenery of the most enchanting description met my 
view, and far exceeded the anticipations I had previously felt. 
At this moment, it is true, my personal sensations were of the most 
agreeable description ; I had escaped from the noise and smoke of 
London, was at home among kind and intelligent friends, and behold¬ 
ing some of the finest combinations of undulating land, enriched and 
diversified by noble masses of woods and scattered groups of trees, ani¬ 
mated by herds and flocks, and moreover brightened by vivid reflections 
from an unruffled lake, all partially lit up by the mellow rays of a 
setting sun; the whole, I say, produced such an effect on my percep-- 
tions as I hardly ever was conscious of before. 
It is impossible, however, to convey to you, my dear Sir, the delight 
I experienced in viewing this charming place ; and as you can gain but 
little from general observations, I propose to describe all the greater 
features in detail for your gratification; and as my friend here can 
furnish me with his methods of proceeding in producing the “ effect ” 
originally intended by the first improvers of the estate, my letters will 
not be wholly uninteresting. 
I shall close this first letter with one observation only, which, as it 
occurred to me while looking from the windows, I mention now, lest I 
forget it altogether. I dare say you must have felt as I have almost 
always done in viewing what may be called pastoral landscape paint¬ 
ings, especially of the Italian and French schools, that they all convey 
an idea of what is significantly called repose. So much does this 
feeling prevail that, repose (meaning, I presume, harmony of tinting) 
is one of the characteristics of a good painting. Now, in the necessary 
absence of all motion and sound, from paintings, and from the quiet 
stillness of a picture gallery, I have often queried whether the quiet of 
