But lest the

thorn" which graces the "upland lawn." testimony of this humble class should be rejected by some, we can assure our readers that it finds a place, and that a prominent one, in the gilded halls of the great, and is one of the pet plants with royalty itself. And who of any taste wonders at this? Is there any tree that excels it in its lively green so early in spring? Does it not salute us immediately after dreary winter, telling us to be of good cheer,that the time of the singing of birds is at hand,that summer is coming?

Yes it is one of spring's first and favourite children, and its appearance reminds us that all things in Nature are ready that the feast is spread out. When we see it we are apt to rebel. The mind wanders away for the first time in the season, picturing to itself glassy streams, purling brooks, green fields, and white cottages glittering all over with honeysuckle, and the earth-coloured bird with the dews upon his back, up before us in the heavens, chaunting some such song as was once heard in Paradise. Who would not then, if he might, fling the never-changing mahogany and the ordinary occupations of the day aside, and escape to some vast wilderness to have a lodging-place abroad, to live and die amidst the blossoming of delicately tainted flowers, the speaking quietude of Nature-as Shelley calls it-the whispering of trees hymning praises to their Maker, the heaven that is then upon earth, -to trade no more in the corruptible, but in the frankincense and myrrh of Nature's storehouses!

As already mentioned, the blossom of this favourite tree. of ours is selected to represent one of the months of the year; and it would be difficult for us to bestow any higher praise upon this plant than what the general consent of mankind has thus attached to it. It is considered the queen of all the flowers of that particular season that we reckon the loveliest of any in the circle of the year,-an honour surely of the highest class and order. This is well-earned fame be it remembered: it is borne from many competitors; for May is full of flowers. It is the season when the sun visits every nook of the wide expanse of vegetation, calling

up every thing to life and beauty: "there is nothing hid from the heat thereof:" a time when the whole wealth of Nature, the resources which she has amassed during the repose of winter, are spread out with a lavish and inimitable hand.

As it stands here, on a polished lawn, this tree forms a beautiful and in some instances a very picturesque object. There is something, too, of matchless perfection about the flower-buds just before their opening; and when they expand, they exhibit such chasteness and sweetness of colour, and emit such a delicious perfume, that we fancy it is not in the heart of man to condemn them. Our first parents must have had this tree near to them in all their wanderings, at least so long as their innocence lasted; for should we perchance pass it even now at early dawn, it has a tendency to arrest and fill the mind with delight.

It is, besides, one of the most generous of claimants for floral honours; for whilst it stands in its snowy loveliness the pride and ornament of the lawn, an object almost too pure for its associates, it adapts itself to the humble office of sheltering other trees and flowers, being found to excel every thing else for hedges and enclosures.

The specimens of the Crataegus which we measured in this park averaged three feet three inches in diameter, and one of them, a regular globular-headed tree, is particularly handsome.

The garden, with the shrubbery, is about seven acres in extent, and forms a fitting accompaniment to this noble residence. It is bounded by a shady walk, the favourite promenade of the late Lady Stafford, and contains a greenhouse, twenty-eight feet in length; three vineries, ninety feet; and peach-house, sixty feet; with pine, cucumber, and melon pits. The walls are extensive and well stocked with fruit-trees, and its whole arrangements bespeak the enlightened management of Mr. Wighton, the gardener.

Such are some of the traits of Cossey; but we shall be glad to revisit it, and fill up the picture from the many beauties it contains.

DEREHAM

AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD.

WE hasten to remind our readers at a distance that we write these lines at the grave of the inimitable poet, Cowper. The good man sleeps on the breast of a sunny bank in one of the richest spots of rural Norfolk, amid much of the quiet and inviting traits of nature. There are trees about his grave; and we are now convinced more than ever that there ought to be no cemetry without them; for otherwise you cannot get birds to come and sing around those sacred places; and besides, in their absence, churchyards never assume that settled quietude which all of us associate with the picture of what we should like our last earthly resting place to be; they wear rather an aspect of awful desertion, as if in the midst of a moor or common, where nature is unchanging. It is true, that, to the dead, the grave becomes the land of deep forgetfulness and unconsciousness as to the lovely garniture which friendship, aided by succeeding seasons, may spread over them; yet it is the place that is often revisited by the affections of the living; and we find it is amidst the soft breezes and sheltered nooks, full of nature, that the "broken in spirit" love to commune with the departed. It is not altogether the church or its service that transforms the grave-yard to such a sanctuary : it is not because we repair there weekly with something of a subdued and humble spirit to listen to the Gospel, that our best thoughts are about this place: we trace it in external circumstances; for we have often observed that, whilst an ivy-mantled pile, embosomed amongst trees, retained its stragglers musing among the tombs long after the services. were completed, a churchyard without them immediately resumed its wonted forsaken appearance, without a single moralist to comment upon the scene!

The trees which overshadow the place where this great man reposes are of the Acer Pseudo-Platanus, our English sycamore, or the plane of the Scotch, distinguished by some old people as a Bible or New Testament tree, being that from which Zaccheus saw our Saviour whilst on his way to Jerusalem, and the same species which to this day skirts the hallowed shores of Genesareth.

To his numerous admirers it will be a sort of consolation to know that this "troubled spirit" rests in such a sweet venerable spot, full of all the usual characteristics of that place of light and shade—a village churchyard. The sun is at this moment falling in softened brilliancy upon the old church, the tombs, and the old trees which surround them, -a picture, we fancy, such as poets sometimes lit up for themselves when alive.

The house where Cowper lived is now occupied by Mr. Cooper, a solicitor. Through this gentleman's kindness, we were allowed to walk over such of the apartments as were at all associated with the poet. The room in which he usually sat is on the ground floor, and fronts Dereham market-place, the resort of bustling noisy men,-a situation ill adapted, one would think, to favour the meditations of such a mind. However, it appears that it was only his latter days that he spent here, and the most of his poems we believe were written some years before, amid scenes more favourable to his disposition. This part of the house retains scarcely any trace of what it was in the poet's lifetime, and is now being converted into public offices. The room where he died is a plain square upper chamber, likewise fronting the market-place-presenting a picture of worldliness which to his peculiar mind must have been offensive. It has undergone little alteration since the day of his death. In passing over this celebrated dwelling, anxiously looking out for some piece of furniture, some old favourite arm chair or other of the poet's, we were told with regret that the house contained no relics of this description; that as Cowper, like other poets, was a lodger only, all the household goods were removed by the family of Dr. Johnson, with whom he lived; and that as they

DEREHAM AND ITS NEIGHBOUrhood.

39

were never the bona fide property of the poet, they have attracted but little attention amongst the curious. Some important mementos of this great man, in the shape of correspondence, are understood to be in the possession of the Rev. Mr. Johnson, of Yaxham.

We strolled into the garden and saw several objects which were Cowper's delight. It is just such a place as men of his disposition prefer, shut out from the world, and a portion of it full of towering shady trees. An old wide-spreading apple-tree of his, known in the particular district as Lewis's Incomparable, stands in the centre of the lawn now full of fruit. The circumference of the space overspread by its branches is thirty-three yards, and the trunk is one foot and a half in diameter,-dimensions which prove that, independent of its association, there are few in our county to equal it. The favourite walk of the poet is still overshadowed by a line of trees, composed of limes, larches, and elms, and remains in the same state as when he resorted hither.

In the neighbourhood of Dereham are the extensive lawn and gardens of W. W. Lee Warner, Esq., containing some of the most vigorous and handsome trees in the county. Those who are not generous enough to provide for posterity, may find a proof here that it is possible to enjoy the fruit of one's own hands; for, with a few trifling exceptions, all the trees on this well-wooded park were planted by the spirited proprietor himself. One of them, an English elm, already measures two feet in diameter, and rises to the height of fifty feet. We are at all times particularly delighted to see the first gentlemen of our land thus betaking themselves to the "heroic line of husbandry," and rearing both for themselves and successors such useful and enduring objects.