150 
THE COTTAGE G ARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, December 8, 1857. 
tend towards “ collection, not selection j” the catalogue of 
thorn formed quite a large volume. Many of the plants had 
no recommendation either in the way of beauty or utility; nor 
were they even curious —nothing, in fact, but foreign weeds 
with long names. But at the same time there were many ex¬ 
amples of the line old Banksias, and other New Holland plants, 
which, really deserving of cultivation, are now becoming rare, 
and many of them even extinct in our English gardens. The 
old stove, which is about tldrty-five feet high, was crowded 
with plants, among them large examples of Pandanus utilis , 
Carissa , Passaya , &c. The flower garden, some 300 feet 
square, is laid out in the old mixed style ; some of the beds 
being filled with herbaceous plants, arid some with a mixture 
of these with the usual bedding plants. 
On the way back to Dresden, I called in at the new villa 
of Prince Albert, of Prussia, which is said to have a good 
: garden attached to it; but was disappointed in not finding the 
. gardener at home; and the porter had strict orders not to 
j admit any one during his absence. I visited several of the 
; nurseries in Dresden, and found them principally devoted to 
Camellias and Azaleas; these they could supply by the 
thousand.— Ixarl. 
REMEMBRANCES OE AN HOUR IN THE 
GROUNDS OF WENTWORTH, THE SEAT 
OE EARL EITZWILLIAM. 
I had laid aside these notes with the view of giving the 
' grounds a thorough inspection before attempting their de- 
| scription ; but, as I am not likely to see them again for a long 
! time, and as the late proprietor, who was not only noble by 
j name, but also in heart, has lately been carried to the grave 
! at almost the very hour when he had invited, and expected 
a visit from, hip Queen, they may not be out of place in a 
comer of The Cottage Gardener. Besides, I have just 
been reading the very interesting account of Shrubland Park 
| by my old worthy friend, Mr. Eish} and methinks your 
; readers will be none the worse for something a little more sub- 
• dued after our friend’s account of his Wanderings through 
! golden doors, viewing avenues of vases filled with flowers of 
all hues, and vieing with the Crystal Palace itself. 
The railway station for Wentworth is Masborough, in 
| Yorkshire, about five miles from Sheffield, fourteen from 
| Doncaster, and one mile from Rotherham, which, if you drive, 
i you must go through ; and this makes the distance somewhat 
about five miles to the mansion, for which a Yorkshire cabby 
boldy asked 7 s. 6d. to take me there $ and if I stopped longer 
; than an hour, he should expect more. However, anyone 
; that can walk, will be able to get there by going across the 
i fields in a little more than than three miles. Masborough 
| village is certainly not remarkable for neatness; though, 
judging by the ladies and children at the doors, there is an 
easy do-as-you-like style about them, that requires no seer to 
| see that, if left alone, they are happy enough. 
After passing through a field or two, and some well-cul- 
I tivated allotment gardens, you reach the village of Greas- 
I borough, which is pleasantly situated on the side of a hill. 
| Here you enter the spacious domains of Wentworth. The 
i entrance itself has no pretensions to grandeur, and forms 
a great contrast in this way to many places I could name, 
both in Scotland and England, where the entrance eclipses 
I everytlnng else. Indeed, I have seen this example followed 
by the cottagers in keeping the outside stone at the door 
nicely washed and sanded, when, if you open the door, all is 
out of order. Although the entrance itself is not striking to 
a stranger, yet, on entering, he soon finds he is not in com¬ 
mon grounds. Before him is a hill, covered with fine Wood, 
! surmounted by a splendid pillar some 130 feet in height, 
erected by Charles, second Marquis of Rockingham, to com¬ 
memorate the acquittal of Admiral Keppel by a court martial, 
j This hill, and the one you are passing down, forms a splendid 
valley; but, unfortunately for the admirers of sweeping 
breadths of grass and fine undulating valley, the whole, from 
where you are, down to the brook, is cut into small paddocks 
by hedgerow timber and hedges. Mcthought, had I had a 
magic wand, I would have given it a passing sweep, and left 
j only here and there a few of the best of the trees and thorns 
from where I stood down to the brdok. Secondly, t would 
have cleared the trees on the opposite hill some 150 feet to 
200 feet in width from the brook up over the hill, leaving this 
noble pillar clear to the base; and lastly, have dammed up 
the brook itself, and given it the look of a respectable river. 
The road sends you down along the same side of the valley, 
at the bottom of which you cross the brook by a plain bridge. 
After passing the bridge, the road ascends a little ; and the 
next point of attraction is an arch, which, no doubt, astonishes 
the locals; though to those who have seen good things in this 
way, it is really meagre enough; and, with the exception of 
being useful as a cottage and an entrance to the park, a stranger 
can hardly conceive the mimicry of erecting it in such a situ¬ 
ation ; for, on looking round, it appears to be placed in the 
midst of paddocks; yet, to the eye of those who are con¬ 
versant with such places, there is at this spot an unmistake- 
able stamp of its belonging to the good old English gentleman 
about it. The road is plain and substantial; and, what I 
should suppose, is not to be found at Shrubland, and other 
places famed for order and neatness—a good display of foot¬ 
paths in all directions, without any evidence of traps ever 
having been thought of to prostrate trespassers. The gate was 
also open; but more of this anon. On going on a little 
further you pass through another gate, and, I suppose, enter 
a sort of inner park; for here the timber is of much older 
date, and very fine, with large quantities of healthy young 
trees and underwood. In fact, the place is overgrown with 
wood, and requires a thorough dressing by some one who has 
a good eye for breadth of outline, and imfettered by the 
trammels of old associations, which are attached to all old 
places. 
As you pass along, on looking to the left, the eye is at¬ 
tracted to a splendid mausoleum, erected on the hill by the 
present Earl Fitzw'illiam’s grandfather, to the memory of 
Charles, second Marquis of Rockingham. It is an elegant 
structure of three different orders of architecture. The base 
is a square building in the Doric style, containing a full length 
statue of the Marquis by the celebrated Nollekens; and in 
niches round the apartment are busts of Burke, Cavendish, 
Saville, and others, his contemporaries and friends. The 
second story, diminishing in size, is Corinthian, with a sarco¬ 
phagus in the centre. The third story is composed of a 
circular row of Composite pillars, supporting a dome. The 
height is about forty-six feet. 
As you pass on, another monument makes its appearance 
on the hill on the left in the shape of a triagonal pyramid, 
erected by the first Marquis of Rockingham to commemorate 
the close of the rebellion in Scotland, in 1745, which is eighty-^ 
four feet in height. These three monuments are, in my 
opinion, splendidly placed, and form appropriate and noble 
objects in such grounds as these. 
About a mile from the entrance you have the first view of 
the house, which, with the extended front of 660 feet in 
length, its magnificent Corinthian portico in the centre, and 
its towers at each end, is truly princely. Yet one feels sorry 
that the first Marquis of Rockingham u T ho built, and Flet- 
croft who designed, such a noble pile, had not the good taste 
to have placed it in a better situation. For, however grand 
and striking is the first view of the building, yet it hardly 
requires a second look to see that it is badly placed. It is, 
in fact, apparently in the bottom of a bason, as the ground 
rises all round it. 
Though I had been walking against time, as it was Sep¬ 
tember, and five o’clock, P.M., w r hen I got there, and therefore 
no time to spare, as I wanted to see the garden that night; 
still I could not resist standing still, and contemplating the 
scene before me, which reminded me of Johnson’s “ Rasselas,” 
though I saw no princesses in the happy valley, the family 
not being at the place ; still here was a goodly assemblage of 
the other sex amusing themselves on the spacious lawn in 
front of the house with the good, old, healthy English game 
of cricket; and besides, I knew there was the village of Went¬ 
worth near; where, if they were not happy, it was not the fault 
of their two late lords, who were second to none in adminis¬ 
tering to the wants of their less fortunate fellow-creatures; 
and, I believe, for now more than a century no one has 
asked for bread at this good old establishment and been sent 
off wanting. I need hardly say the interior of the house 
fully realises what the exterior holds out; and that it contains 
Spacious suites of show-rooms worthy of the name, with a 
