its wings, bathing their downy plumage in its liquid brightnes, the skylarks send forth their song of adoration; a dewy greennesss lightens up every leaf, and the field flowers breathe a sweetened essence in the softly fanning western wind. We will away and spend a day with nature, with nature too in her poetic imagery, away from the dull and plodding cares of life in the sweet solitude of Richmond Park.

How pleasant it is to glide quietly along the smooth surface of thy gently flowing stream, majestic Thames! Now passing under thy many arched bridges, with the various crafts and strange tenements that lie scattered along thy shore or float gently on thy bosom-now gliding along an embankment covered with green turf, then anon passing by some old brick church with its quaint square tower, or a bridge that in simplicity of appearance might have been as ancient as the days of Peter of Colechurch,-sometimes catching a glimpse of a sweetly sylvan landscape, or noble mansion, half hid in the embowering shadow of majestic trees, whilst floating gracefully onwards, a troop of swans arch their proud necks, as they gaze Narcissus-like on their resemblances in the glassy wave. Then on we pass by hamlet and village, backed with their picturesque churches, whilst groups of children and idlers are lounging about the river's side, or leaning against the old elms and plane trees that cast their broad shadow on thy quiet waters. Anon we pass under a bridge, and aye in sooth there is a picturesque little isle, or ait, reposing on thy bosom; how fine the forms of those two old trees combine, casting their double reflection in the water that plays round their pendant leaflets, whilst with the least motion of the wind, they dabble their green fingers in the sparkling liquid that flows around their mossy trunks, and the tall rank grass half hid by the overflowing wave, itself half hides the group of cows that are quietly standing in the water, and nibbling the tender tops of the grass. Another pleasant isle or two groups of old buildings, a glimpse of the fine oaks in Kew Gardens and we are at Richmond.

How many descriptions there have been written of thy fair Hill sweet Richmond, yet how little do they convey to the mind of the reader, the feelings of one, who for the first time gazes on the glowing landscape beneath thee-nor is that to be wondered at. At any time when viewing an object of nature, that either for immensity, beauty, or sublimity, commands the soul, we think not, we compare not, nor do we reason, the senses engulph the soul, the whole mind is swallowed up for the time in the prospect, and becomes an integral part of the nature around us. It is not till some moments have past, that the mind regains its individuality, and then how cold do we feel all our descriptions, in comparison with the bliss of the first gaze.

Sure yon small silver stream that glitters here and there between the clumps of trees cannot be the broad bright Thames? and see in the distance that village almost hidden by the chesnut clump, how rural and happy it seems in the landscape. As we gaze, how more distinct and colourable the distant objects become, whilst the blue haze opens to the eye, and far, far away, we gain faint glimpses of trees and meadows, villages, and swelling hills, bathed in the warm light, and beautifully varied, combined and blended over the wide spread scene. Thou art the same now fair Hill, as when the Saxon Offa hunted the

shaggy boar, in the fastnesses at thy feet, thou hadst then the same beauty and brightness of appearance, and the soul of the poet was in the forgotten Saxon when he first gave thee thy true name Sheen, for thou art indeed brightness, the living emerald of the isle! But we must not pause too long beside thee, the yearning mind becomes more expansive as it gazes on thee, whilst the eye waxes dim with thy brightness; vulgar minds break the unity of thy beauty with their dissonant remarks. The green leaves shine around us, and the birds warble forth their melodies, calling us into their leafy lair, and we obey their command.

Richmond Park devoid even of the scarce to be surpassed quiet beauty of its expansive prospect, is a lovely place. The utter quietude and solitude that reigns in its distant recesses-the poetical character of its scenery, its softy swelling lawns, its noble trees, its placid lakes, and the herds of deer that wander about in its ferny glades, all combine to render it a place dear to those who would see nature in her sunny and poetic garb, unmixed with the dissonant sounds of toil and anxiety. The Park is very extensive, being about eight miles in circumference. In addition to its chief entrances as at Richmond, Roehampton, and Kingston, it has several ladder entrances for foot passengers. With the exception of the parts near the lodges, and the view from the Hill over the grounds of the Duke of Buccleugh, the Park is particularly retired and romantic, but most so from the great pond on towards Kingston. In some places we are delighted with the sylvan beauty of the landscape, the wild and graceful character of the young plantations, in others the feet wander over a smoothly undulating lawn, vareigated with gentle swelling hillocks, on which grow some of the most magnificent oaken trees, that in themselves are worth a walk to Richmond to see; giants standing in their might on the verdant sward, and spreading their ponderous green crowned arms over an immense extent, whilst their sinewy roots bursting from their earthen bed, dip up in distorted forms, or trail along the ground towards the little brooklet that winds below. Then we pass into a shady wood-like scene, where we startle hundreds of the wild birds that have made it their cover, whilst the blue sky peeps ever here and there from between the breaks in the trees But see that gorgeous butterfly, bedecked with crimson and gold like a humming-bird, sporting around the green leaves of the oak, or a fairy sprite it flutters its peerless wings in the warm and mellow sunlight. But walking listlessly on we have passed through the green grove, and are in a field of giant forms that spread abroad their huge fronds, like the floral productions of tropical climes. Here is an open glade covered with green turf, on which the long arm of a distorted oak casts a broad shadow, forming a tempting place to recline on, and wile away a half hour in meditative idlesse. Giving way to the impulse of the moment we lie down in the cool shade and with half closed eyes, muse listlessly on the scene around, or watch the evolutions of the various ephemera that sport around the wild flowers or the ferny bed, ever and anon startled by the sweet voice of the chaffinch, as it darts into the thick set ferns, or smiling at the presumption of some bold blackbird, that alights on the grass within a few feet of us and stares in our face with a sort of inward chuckle, as

much as to say what business have you here in my domain. The whole scene, sky, earth, and water, was full of the spirit of listlessness. It might have been thought, with a very little strain of thei magination, part of the demesne round the Castle of Indolence.

"It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground

And there a season atween June and May,

Half prankt with spring, with summer half imbrowned,
A listless climate made, where, sooth to say,
No living wight could work, ne cared even for play.

"Was nought around but images of rest,

Sleep soothing groves and quiet lands between,
And flowery beds that slumb'rous influence kest
From poppies breathed, and beds of pleasant green
Where never yet was creeping creature seen,
Meantime unnumbered glittering streamlets play'd
And hurled everywhere their water sheen;
That as they bicker'd through the sunny glade;

Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made."

It is probable that, the glades of the Park suggested to Thomson much of the descriptive part of his " Castle of Indolence," as it was written after he came to reside in the neighbourhood, and the scenery of the park is very characteristic of that in the poem.

As we lay thus in a kind of day dream, a noble buck with broad branching antlers and firm set chest, wandered through the ferns, within a few yards without perceiving us. We slowly rose to take a more perfect view of our unexpected visitor, but had scarcely gained our feet, when his quick ear caught the faint crunching sound of the grass, and his bright eye saw us-for a moment he paused looking intently towards us, with his proud neck arched, his antlers elevated, his broad chest distended, standing thus, his limbs and sleek sides best part hidden by the long fern, his nostrils contracted, his mouth half open, and his bright eye shining with a trembling lustre, it formed a subject for startling effect worthy of the pencil of a Landseer. For a minute we stood admiring the fixedness of its gaze, when we made a slight motion, with an elastic spring it wheeled round, bent down for a moment in the fern, then leaping high above, in the air like an arrow from a bow, it flew onward, startling in its course some dozen more deer that were browsing in the fern, and away the whole troop scampered with a quick and ambling trot, beyond the fern beds and the open lawns, along the side of the shrubbery, and through the oaken clumps, till the dense foliage hides them from the sight.

As we returned to our musing position, from which the deer had startled us, our thoughts wandered to the poetry that was associated with the wild life of the greenwood, and how strong the temptation of beholding such a being as a sleek buck in a woody solitude, must have raised the hunter propensity of man. Will. Shakspere, with half a dozen lawless young blades, hardy and resolute as himself, wandering through the woods and ferny glades of Charlecote-by the soft crescent light of the moon-in defiance of keepers and ban-dogs, came forcibly on our imagination. In such scenes, and among such characters, how the firmness and energy of his bold mind, must have been unfolded, what stores of nature's secret lore those quiet moonlight woods, must have enabled him to treasure up-no doubt he found

the materials, that in after years enabled him to produce those splended poetical dramas, the " Midsummer's Night's Dream," and "As You Like It." How often, whilst wandering in the glades of the Park, may not his more timid companions have startled at the idea of seeing jovial young Puck, and the feelings and events of the wood of Athens, have been rehearsed by fear in the groves at Charle

cote.

Though we are not aware of there being any oak in the Park particularly noticeable for very great age, yet there are many that have long seen their full prime, mighty Briareuses, on which hundreds of summers may yet rise and wane, and they still remain emblems of grandeur. Near Roehampton gate, is a very remarkable willow-it stands by itself on a level lawn. For a willow, the trunk is immense, it is at least twenty feet in circumference at the base, the tree has been repeatedly pollarded, and though the inside is very much decayed and hollowed, it has a fine silvery green head.

As evening came on, we wandered in the direction of the large picturesque ponds as we set down beside our musing on the beauty of the scenery, a herd of at least a hundred young deer came down to the water side, under the command of an old buck, and all following their leader, dashed into the water. Here they continued for sometime enjoying themselves in the cool stream, some half dozen would start from the water and chace one another over the smooth lawn, then scamper back again into the water. half an hour they continued this amusement, sometimes chacing in the water, at others butting, then swimming along in a continuous line; at last the whole herd headed by their leader came out of the water, and leaping along the lawn, over the open heath and into the shady wood, we saw them no more.

For

The sun was just sinking in the distance as we came again to take a parting view from the Hill. Of an evening the prospect is more splendid than in the early part of the day. As the sun goes down it casts rich glowing tints over the distant hills of Harrow and Hampstead, lighting up with a faint tint the open flat of Stanmore; whilst of a softened mellow tone the dark pile of Windsor comes broad against the light sky-meandering its quiet way through rural groves the silver Thames glides on, whilst the rich tones of the sky are reflected in its lucid waters. ANAX.

Literary Notice.

EVERY TRAVELLER'S GUIDE TO THE RAILWAYS OF ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND, BELGIUM, France, and GERMANY; containing correct Time and Fare Tables of every Railway. Illustrated with Maps of the Country through which the Railway Lines traverse. Compiled from original sources. BY HENRY TUCK. London: Published at the Railway Times Office, 122, Fleet-street; Groombridge, Paternoster row.

THIS is a most invaluable little work, and indispensable both to the man of business and the tourist for pleasure. It contains the Time and Fare Tables of every Railway in the United Kingdom, France, and Germany, and it is illustrated with Maps of all the Countries through which the Lines are carried. The compilation is made with the greatest possible exactness, and may be relied upon most implicitly. It is so convenient a book, too, that although it contains such an immense mass of information, it may be carried in the waistcoat-pocket, and so be always at hand. It likewise contains some

very admirable "Instructions to Railway Travellers," which cannot be too highly commended. It has hitherto been a matter of some difficulty for lady-travellers, and indeed for many gentlemen-travellers also, to conquer the little troubles of procuring their seats, preserving their luggage, and so forth, but these "Instructions" will enable them easily to overcome all these ills. The work is altogether the completest thing of the kind we ever saw, and at a period like the present, when time is money, its Compiler is truly a public benefactor. Its price, which is only One Shilling, places it within the reach of every traveller, and the maps alone are worth double the money charged for the entire book.

A Concise and Practical Treatise on the Principal Diseases of the Air Passages, Lungs, and Pleura; by ALFRED CATHERWOOD, M.D., C.M., &c., &c. London: Duncan & Malcolm, Paternoster-row.

IT has been lately proved in the Statistics published by the RegistrarGeneral, that nearly a third of the inhabitants of this country are carried off prematurely by Consumption or other diseases of the respiratory organs; a work, therefore, which concisely and practically treats of the principal diseases of the air passages, lungs, and pleura, must be of great value and interest, and when written by so eminent a member of his profession as Dr. Catherwood, merits particular attention and respect.

The work before us is divided into three main branches-the first treating of the diseases of the Air-Passages, the second, of the diseases of the Lungs, and the third, of the diseases of the Pleura.

In speaking of the diseases of the Air-Passages, Dr. Catherwood describes, very clearly and simply, catarrh in its various forms and degrees, and discusses with far greater candour than-with all respect let us say it-most members of his profession would have done, the various remedies, simple and learned, which doctors and dames have from time to time put forth.” A great many most excellent suggestions concerning the treatment of catarrhal affections continually occur, to which, however, our space will not allow us to do any greater justice than most warmly to recommend them to the careful consideration of our readers.

In the second part of the work-that which relates to the diseases of the Lungs-the Doctor treats his subject, we feel bound to say, in the most learned, and yet in the most plain and intelligible manner. He describes at length peripneumony or inflammation of the lungs, gangrene of the lungs, vesicular and interlobular emphysema, oedema of the lungs, apoplexy of the lungs, asthma, and pulmonary consumption. These diseases are treated first, anatomically, then with relation to their general, functional, and local signs, and, lastly, as to their causes and treatment. In this part of the work there appears to us to be much originality and research. The Doctor's directions, too, to the consumptively-disposed, are most valuable and excellent. His observations on diet and climate are particularly worthy of attention.

The third part of the book discusses that (we fear) somewhat neglected subject the diseases of the Pleura, and to this portion of his work the Doctor appears to have devoted himself very ably. His remarks upon the treatment of acute pleurisy are in the highest degree original and excellent, and it is evident from the manner in which the operations are described that he is an accomplished and experienced Surgeon. With chapters on hydrothorax, pneumo-thorax, and pneumo-thorax with effusion, the book closes. It is far from the least of the merits of this very valuable work, that it is written in such plain and comprehensible language that the non-medical reader can thoroughly understand it; and believing with the philosopher of old that the knowledge of a disease is half its cure, we tender Dr. Catherwood our hearty thanks for this valuable contribution to the medical literature of our country, and warmly recommend our readers to procure, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest it without loss of time.