monastic brotherhoods—­the preserves of ancient historic chronicles, the guardians of the early wells and springs of classic learning and genius.  In America there are no great, old, time-stained, weather-beaten, ivy-mantled churches full of tombs, such as we saw to-day, with curious carvings and quaint effigies, and where the early rulers of the land embraced the faith and received the baptism of Christ.  That must be a very strange country.  But they have Plymouth Rock, on the shore where the Protestant Pilgrims landed.

The horses having come to the door, we set off for our ride; our steeds were but indifferent hacks, but the road was charming, and the evening serene and pure, and I was with my father, a circumstance of enjoyment to me always.  The characteristic feature of the scenery of this region is the vivid, deep-toned foliage of the hanging woods, through whose dense tufts of green, masses of gray rock and long scars of warm-colored red-brown earth appear every now and then with the most striking effect.  The deep-sunk river wound itself drowsily to a silver thread at the base of steep cliffs, to the summit of which we climbed, reaching a fine level land of open downs carpeted with close, elastic turf.  On we rode, up hill and down dale, through shady lanes full of the smell of lime-blossom, skirting meadows fragrant with the ripe mellow hay and honey-sweet clover, and then between plantations of aromatic, spicy fir and pine, all exhaling their perfumes under the influence of the warm sunset.  At last we made a halt where the road, winding through Lord de Clifford’s property, commanded an enchanting view.  On our right, rolling ground rising gradually into hills, clothed to their summits with flourishing evergreens, firs, larches, laurel, arbutus—­a charming variety in the monotony of green.  On the farthest of these heights Blaise Castle, with two gray towers, well defined against the sky, looked from its bosky eminence over the whole domain, which spread on our left in sloping lawns, where single oaks and elms of noble size threw their shadows on the sunlit sward, which looked as if none but fairies’ feet had ever pressed it.  Beyond this, through breaks and frames, and arches made by the trees, the broad Severn glittered in the wavy light.  It was a beautiful landscape in every direction.  We returned home by sea wall and the shore of the Severn, which seemed rather bare and bleak after the soft loveliness we had just left....

Thursday, July 7th.—­Went to the theater to rehearse “The Gamester.”  In the afternoon strolled down to the river with my father and Dall.  We took boat and rowed toward the cliffs.  Our time, however, was limited; and just as we reached the loveliest part of the river, we were obliged to turn home again....  At dinner, as we were talking about America, and I was expressing my disinclination ever to go thither, my father said:  “If my cause (our Chancery suit) goes ill before the Lords,