of it is the Avon, which intersects and embraces it. For it meanders about, now opening its arms and enfolding a little green island in front of the mansion, now dashing down in a broad cascade, a veritable minnehaha, or laughing water, that sends up into the wooded heights above its rollicking chatter.
We were particularly struck with the might and majesty of two or three grand old English oaks. One was truly a monarch or father of the forest. It wore a coat of mail, one of thickly woven knots from foot to crown. What a binding for that vast book of the centuries! Who shall unclasp that cover, and read the chronicles within that volume? He who does will doubtless turn over a thousand leaves, each standing for a year of Nature's registry. Having nothing else wherewith to span the circumference, we embraced the trunk, clasping it closely with our outstretched arms until the tips of our fingers met. We measured our united lengths twice and about three-fourths around the tree, making its circumference full thirty-two feet by this extemporized standard. There were other oaks green to the tips of the widest and highest branches with a foliage not their own. They presented a remarkable sight. Trees of ivy had grown up at their roots and ascended to their tops with their thick braids of netted tendrils. I never saw before ivy of such circumference and
