country, will of course choose the lower way, by the side of the river; but we fancy that those who ride in vehicles must proceed on the highway, in order that they may in due form come under the tribute of the toll-keeper. But this is merely an idle conjecture of ours.

In passing along, the naturalist may profitably turn aside to look at the hamlet of Hellesdon, which is watched by a noble-spreading ash (Fraxinus excelsior); or this tree may be seen even from the road lifting its aged head above some of the outhouses of Mr. Coleman. The walnuts (Juglans nigra), which stand in the beautiful garden of S. Culley, Esq., are likewise worthy of being noticed as large and handsome specimens of this useful and ornamental tree.

The last time we visited Cossey park was under peculiarly favourable circumstances. It was a quiet and heavenly hour, such as we experience in our climate in the latter months of the year. Though on one of the last days of April, the weather at this moment had lost the bright emblazonry peculiar to that season of the year, and wore, as we have said, that subdued and tranquil air that September usually assumes before consigning itself to the shrivelling blasts of the succeeding month. Every thing appeared to be wrapt in silence: the operations of the woodman were suspended, at least his axe resounded not over the forest,— the cock's shrill clarion and the lowing of cattle rose not as usual from the adjoining farm-yard,—no domestic of the mansion was at that hour to be seen on his way to or from the neighbouring village,—the valley throughout wore the character of a Sabbath-morn picture, and its whole scene, woods, lawn, and water, and the noble pile in its character of the olden time stood before us in such perfect stillness and loveliness, that but for the musical murmuring of the river as it proceeded over its pebbly bed, one might have fancied for the time that it was all rather the master-work of some painter on canvass, or the momentary creation of a cunning enchanter, than a real part and portion of the fallen world.

We thank God for his trees, and the green sod he has laid out around them! They are his gifts; and we look

upon them as so many invitations to us to be good men. And though He cursed the earth generally, with all its fair furniture, we see that he hath withheld the severity of the sentence from some spots; for they yet break into loveliness, and assume all we fancy of primeval verdure. Such a spot is Cossey,-a place highly favoured by Nature, and, unlike the most of Norfolk, possessing something of the hill and dale of northern counties. On entering upon this demesne you feel at once that you are on some magnificent property. The character of the place reminds you of the best days of English park scenery; but with an additional idea to it here, which is but rarely met with, that of boundlessness. We do not know if the actual extent of the park, &c. warrants this description; but such is the picture; it is a little world of itself: far away on either hand you may see vistas of endless green, groups of trees, flocks, and herds; but no rival mansion rises to view, to denote that the harmonious sway of landscape is shared by others. The hall, in its wilderness of architecture of the Elizabethan style, stands on the banks of a rivulet, in a well-chosen site, and when viewed from some of the points in the rising ground, presents a charming airy appearance. It is evidently the design of some master-mind. A great proportion of the trees which are grouped around it in the distance were planted by Sir William Jerningham, sire to the present Lord Stafford; but the older ones, the fathers, which stand in the immediate vicinity of the hall, have descended as heirlooms through successive generations, and their heraldry, like that of the Grecian demi-gods, belongs so much to the misty regions of the past, that we cannot now set it in order.

There is an ash-tree (Fraxinus excelsior) near to the hall, which we may with safety pronounce to have been the handsomest specimen of the sort in the county; it has a beautiful clean stem which is yet entire, measuring, at one foot from the ground, four feet nine inches in diameter: the upper part of the tree is in ruins.

The American planes (Platanus occidentalis) seem to thrive exceedingly well here, some of them measuring four [No. II.]

F

feet and a half in diameter, and seventy feet in height. They stand on the bank of the river in a situation similar to that on which they grow by the Ohio and Mississipi, their native

haunts.

There are likewise several splendid specimens of the English elm here, (Ulmus campestris), the largest of which, as represented by our artist, measures six feet in diameter, and eighty-two feet in height.

But the trees which pleased us most of all, and which we found here in great abundance, belong to a genus which is not prized sufficiently in the present day, and which some writers have attempted to depreciate we mean the hawthorn, the common thorn of our hedge, being in our opinion one of the most ornamental trees that we have. Some may consider this a strange fancy, yet we maintain it is a correct one, and that this species is amongst the loveliest objects of the lawn. What although the flowers of this tree may wither does it not leave us ruby records that it has not flowered in vain, which are perhaps as beautiful as the blossoming? The fruit of some of this genus resemble bunches of coral, others are as large as crab-apples, whilst some are of a jet black colour. Gilpin, by some strange fatuity or other, was led to call them uninteresting: he says, "the bloom is spread over them in too much profusion!"- -so that it must be so, we suppose. We should have liked to have asked Robert Burns, the Ayrshire poet, his opinion on this question, for this tree was a great favourite of his; and though we can guess pretty nearly as to his answer, we must in his absence take the opinion of others. We are convinced, then, that all our rural people esteem it; because, go where you may when it is in bloom, and you see the hearth, the mantel-piece, and the mirror in their dwellings, decorated with sprigs of it; and you will observe that they all know it, as well as they know their own homes, not as hawthorn, but as the familiar May, an emblem of that heavenly month that opens up to us the glories of the summer. We know, again, that the milkmaid has an affection for it; for about eventide you may see her stealing away to meet her lover at the "milk-white