ought to be, and what it has, in some cases, actually become; but, we think, the quotation has been used to authorize conclusions which the author never intended. Eden was created by the Almighty fiat, which called heaven and earth into existence; and poets of genius much inferior, and falling far short of Milton in the power of expressing their meaning, would have avoided the solecism of representing Paradise as decorated with beds and curious knots of flowers, with which the idea of human labour and human care is inevitably connected-an impropriety, indeed, which could only be equalled by that of the French painter, who gave the skin dress of our first father the cut of a court suit. Milton nobly conceived that Eden, emanating directly from the Creator, must possess that majestic freedom which characterizes even the less perfect works of nature, and, in doing so, he has anticipated the schemes of later improvers. But we think it extremely dubious that he either meant to recommend landscape gardening on an extensive scale, or to censure those 'trim gardens' which he has elsewhere mentioned so affectionately." With the trim gardens' of Hampton Court, 'parkscenery' is extensively associated. Hampton Court Park contains the three noble avenues, which we have described as forming such a remarkable combination as seen from the eastern front of the palace. Passing out of what are called the 'Lion-gates,' to the north, we cross the road; and are in Bushy Park, whose noble chestnut avenues and ancient thorns (from which it probably derives the name of 'Bushy,') we have described in our paper on Richmond.' Mr. Jesse has mentioned several interesting objects in Hampton Court Park: "There are two elm trees, or rather the remains of two, in Hampton Court Park, known by the name of the Giants,' which must have been of an enormous size, the trunk of one of them measuring twenty-eight feet in circumference. **** Perhaps the largest oak tree in England is to be scen near the old stables in Hampton Court Park. It is thirty-three feet round, and its diameter thereof, eleven feet. I never see this beautiful tree, (and I often go to admire it,) without carrying my mind back to the time it was probably planted, and the ages which have since elapsed. *** There is also a remarkably fine poplar tree in the studhouse grounds, in the same park. The height of this tree is ninety-seven feet; and to look at it one might almost suppose that it was composed of several trees, so mighty are the branches which have shot up from the main trunk, within a short distance of the ground. Cork trees flourish in Hampton Court Park, where there are two large ones." Very many features of the old decorations of the 'trim gardens' of Hampton Court, so charmingly described by Scott as the characteristic of old baronial residences, have now vanished. Evelyn tells us of "a rich and noble fountain, with syrens' statues cast in copper by Fanelli," as being in the Private Garden. An old print of the time of Queen Anne shows twelve The We fountains playing before the eastern front of the Palace. The place was gradually neglected. The fine old yew trees were cut into hideous shapes; the fountains ceased to play; the statues were removed from their pedestals. But the old features of grandeur could not be destroyed. When we consider the flat surface of the large area with which the landscape-gardeners of Hampton Court had to deal, we cannot but admire the taste with which, in spite of all obstructions, the grounds have been formed into what they are. flatness has been made picturesque by vast avenues, which carry the imagination out into the distance of the horizon. The ornamented parts are so gay with lawns and flowers, with terraces and trees, that we surrender ourselves to the charm of decoration, and sigh not for natural features of wood and water. people the sunny glades with such groups as Watteau painted; or what is quite as good, we see them actually peopled with happy children, and smiling women, and assiduous swains in their holiday dresses, rejoicing in the elegance around them. Those who have seen Versailles may with great truth proclaim that, in comparison, Hampton Court is a petty thing. The arrangement of the gardens has, no doubt, grown out of the wants and tastes of successive generations; and has not been the creation of a master-mind, such as that of Le Nôtre, having an unbounded command of money, such as Louis XIV. put at his disposal. Here were gardens in the time of Henry VIII. Elizabeth made payments to a certain Frenchman that had undertaken the reformation of her gardens at Hampton Court. Charles II. planted laurels and dwarf yews. London, or London and Wise, celebrated gardeners in the time of William III., probably gave these gardens their present features, by adaptation of their former state. It is to be lamented that, while so much has been done for the decent ornament of the gardens, of late years, there should still so much remain to be done. The fountains are simply ridiculous. If the supply of water is limited-if hydraulic science cannot overcome the difficulties of producing a lofty jet in a wide plain-let the fountains be obliterated, and the basins no longer deformed with these miserable pretences. The old copies of antique statues have been removed from their pedestals. Two hundred thousand people, nearly, come to these gardens every year, with minds open to external impressions. It is a place for statues of our British worthies. Such statues give a peculiar charm to the gardens of Stowe; and the spirit of their inscriptions is not readily forgotten by the passing visitor. When the people really take pleasure in a particular locality, and it becomes a standard enjoyment to large masses of the population, it is the duty of a government to consider how the real education of the people, as well as their happiness, can be promoted by judicious associations with the scene of their holiday recreations. The Crown has done most wisely in throwing open the gates of this Palace freely to the people. Let the Government do something more. We do not desire to see a chronic expense here incurred, like the cost of making the great fountains of Versailles play on fête days. We ask, only, that what has become a Palace for the people should not appear wanting in those decent ornaments which assuredly would not have been taken away had it remained a palace for the Sovereign. Restore the old statues, or give us something even more instructive in their place. Fill these gardens with such choice sculptures-we care not whether they are copies or originals-as may harmonize with the character of the buildings. Do not fear that the people will mutilate or injure the very choicest works of Art. We feel that there is at length in England some respect for the people. The very inscriptions here, that used to threaten the trespasser, now use the language of courtesy: "It is expected that the public will protect what is intended for public enjoyment." Happily there is now no need of protection. Treat the people with confidence, and they will not abuse the trust reposed in them. Here they wander, unmolested and unmolesting. They leave the more frequented walks, and ramble freely by the side of the Thames, upon the raised Terrace which skirts the river for half a mile. They thread all the cool paths of what is called 'The Wilderness,' and no obstreperous noises break the charm of its solitude. Sometimes a hearty laugh bursts out from the close hedges of 'The Maze,' and joyous is it to hear the sound of harmless fun, telling of cares forgotten,-of youth and hope. Welcome to us is Hampton Court. We have spent some happy hours in reviving our early recollections of it by recent observation. Those hours were not less happy in the knowledge that these scenes are now open to all; and that a million and a half of holiday folks have had glimpses of harmless pleasure, during the last eight years, in the gardens where Wolsey would not let the profane vulgar approach within an arrow's flight. THE ISLE OF THANET. whole week making the voyage, and who landed so thin, and wasted, and forlorn, that their own mother scarcely knew them. Nous avons changé tout celà. THIS old island, lying at the extremity of Kent, and | But we have known of other martyrs who were a below the point - Ove nei salsi flutti Il bel Tamigi amareggiando intoppa-where, in the salt waves the beautiful Thames falls with an embittered stream,*has been for many generations the favourite summer resort of the Londoners. In this genial month of June at the moment at which we are writing-swift and convenient steam-boats are daily carrying down hundreds to Margate, Ramsgate, Broadstairs-all places within the limits of Thanet. The perfect ease and comfort with which these bathing places are reached from the metropolis is one grand recommendation. Now, as well as by the steamers, the isle may be approached by the South-Eastern Railway and its branches; and soon a more direct line of communication will carry the traveller by Rochester and Chatham, through a most picturesque and interesting country, and by Canterbury and its glorious Cathedral, and land him at Margate or Ramsgate in less than three hours. When favoured by the tide, the steamboat voyage to Margate seldom occupies more than five hours and a half. To reach Ramsgate by water, if the wind is blowing and the sea at all rough, is rather a formidable voyage for the unpractised landsman. Most Londoners know what is meant by doubling the North Foreland. It is their Cabo Tormentoso. But what are these terrors, and what this quarter-of-an-hour's discomfort, compared with the prolonged dangers and sufferings of those strange floating arks, the Margate and Ramsgate "hoys," which preceded the elegant and swift steamboats that now run. We-men of the last century-remember and can never forget those hoy voyages, or those weather-beaten hoy skippers! Peter Pindar touched the subject, and his Captain Noah of Margate is not an unamusing person. If wind and tide were all favourable, and if there were no fogs, nor too great a crowd on board, the trip was pleasant enough; but, oh! the delays of contrary winds and unfavourable tides, the long layings-to off the Isle of Dogs, the anchorings at Erith, the tackings in Purfleet Reach, the short comings at Gravesend, the beatings and boomings to get to the buoy at the Nore, the becalmings in Whitstable Bay and Herne Bay, the see-sawings between the Reculvers and the Goodwin Sands, and the unspeakable terrors of those sands, and the falling short of provisions - nay, even of water, and the boating to the shore for meat and drink which, very often, were not to be had for love or money. Verily, the poor cockneys of those days partook of the perils and privations of those who go down to the sea in great ships. It once fell to our own lot to be three days and nights cooped up in the crowded and not over-sweet-smelling cabin of a hoy, between London Bridge and Margate. * Ariosto, Orlando Furioso. + The Cape of Torments-the first name bestowed by the Portuguese navigators on the Cape of Good Hope. It will not be difficult to show that the Londoners have made a good choice of the scenes of their bathing and pastime; and that, besides the facility of approach and the perfect salubrity of the air, the Isle of Thanet offers many other advantages. It is rich in historical associations. There is not, perhaps, in the whole length and breadth of our island one spot that has been the scene of more interesting events. It is the most English (or most anciently English) of any part of these realms; for here the Anglo-Saxons first landed from the Continent, and here they made their first fixed settlement. Vortigern, the British king who wanted their aid against the Scots and Picts, made over the isle to them; and here our Anglo-Saxon ancestors had their head-quarters and their homes, ten-or more likely twenty-years before they spread themselves and achieved the conquest of the rest of Kent. Hengist became master and sovereign of Kent, as far as the Medway at Rochester, about the year 456. This, too, was the soil first trodden by the missionaries of Christianity; and— yielding only to the claim of St. Martin's Church, Canterbury (which has recently been so perfectly restored through the taste and munificence of the Hon. Daniel Finch)-the second Christian church ever erected in England raised its humble head within the limits of this island. From this fair isle, and from the contiguous city of Canterbury, first proceeded the light of the Gospel, which gradually spread throughout the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. Other associations, though less pleasant, still highly interesting, are by no means wanting. Thanet witnessed the conflicts of the Roman legions and ancient Britons; of the Romanized Britons and the fierce Saxons; and of the Saxons and still fiercer Danes. Traces of these wars are to be detected over nearly the whole surface of the island. Here we have a British embankment, here the outlines of a Roman camp, here remnants of Tumuli or mounds which the Saxons raised over their dead, and which afterwards served as defensive works. The outlines of the island have been changed. That which was a great river (the Stour) has become comparatively a small one; that which was an arm of the sea, flowing in a deep bed and with a copious stream all round from Sandwich Bay and the Roman walls of Richborough to the Roman towers at Reculver and Herne Bay, is now blocked up, and in part marshy and in part solid and well-cultivated land; but the interior of the isle has suffered but few important changes. There the marches of the old armies are to be followed, and their battlefields easily discovered. As there are no great hills or forests of trees, those people who judge of the picturesque by rule and precedent, and elevations and extents, commonly say that the island is not picturesque. 'Tis a mistake. By the picturesque we mean that portion of a landscape which is capable of forming a picture. There is scarcely any scene which is not picturesque when seen under happy combinations of light and shade. There is not the flattest heath-the most Dutch-like extent of country, with ditch and stunted tree-that does not assume some aspect of the picturesque to the poetical mind. But the island is not so flat; it is gently undulated nearly all over; in some of the glens or hollows the scenery is green, secluded, and charming. The farms are extensive, and give that pleasure which is always conveyed by a sight of the evidences of prosperity. Some of the old farm-houses are exceedingly picturesque, and many of the groups of cottages are perfect pictures. To one long accustomed to the numerous enclosures, the minute divisions of fields, and the constant intersection of hedge-rows and ditches in much of the country neighbouring on London, there is something novel and exhilarating in the open unenclosed surfaces of Thanet. For a walk, or for a good uninterrupted canter on horse or pony, we scarcely know better ground, either in winter or in summer. The soil is light: L'arena bianca Onde Inghilterra se nomò Albione—the white chalk whence England took the name of Albion, is everywhere close beneath your feet, or beneath the feet of your steed, hard and dry. The chalk cliffs on the sea-shore offer another delightful walk at all seasons, except when the easterly winds have it all to themselves. Even after the heaviest rains the paths along them are found dry and pleasant. Some good father or abbot of Monkton inscribed at the west end of the church of his monastery: Insula rotunda Tanatus quam circuit unda, The monkish inscription has disappeared under the barbarous brush of some plasterer and whitewasher of the last century; but you may still see the place on the wall where it was; and from the tower of Monkton Church, or the tower of Old Minster, you may survey a good part of the island, and judge for yourself whether the praise of the old Latin rhymester went so very far beyond the truth. If you are an etymologist you may find amusement in the various etymons which have been given for the name of the island. According to some it was called Tenet or Tanet-lond by our Saxon Ancestors, from Tene, a fire or beacon, on account of its being so full of beacons, to give notice to the main land of any invasions or incursions made by the Danes and other pirates, to which this island was so very much exposed. Others, like the learned Archdeacon Battely, derived the name from the ancient British word Tan, which also means fire; and will have it that it was so called on account of the many beacon-fires that were lighted by night along its coasts, to warn, guide, and direct the navigator. Others, again, like Higden, maintain * Ariosto, Orlando Furioso. that it was called Thanatos, because it was certain death to snakes, seeing that not only would no snakes live on the island, but that the soil of the island carried elsewhere killed them. Unfortunately for these etymologists or their theory, there are plenty of snakes in the island; and very pretty inoffensive reptiles they are. Others again opine that Thanet-lond was but a corruption of Thegn-land, or the land of the baron or the soldier (miles,) and they have very pretty reasons to show how necessary it was to put this exposed part of Kent in the keeping of a great thane and warrior. Whatever may be the origin of its name, the Isle of Thanet, from the first dawn of our history, has been a place of great note. It now contains about forty square miles, with a settled population which exceeded 30,000 at the census of 1841, and which has greatly increased since then. If numbers were to be counted during what is called "the height of the season," they would form a startling total. The number of disembarkations from the steamers at Margate alone exceeded 100,000 in the summer of 1846. On the Saturdays during that season it was common to see 800 to 1000 landed there from the different steamers. But these must not all be taken as new arrivals; the male part of the visitors generally go up and down to London for their business, leaving their families on the coast. Thanet is now separated from the main land only by the narrow channels of the Stour, one of which, scarcely discernable, runs through the marshes to the estuary of the Thames at Reculver, and the other in rather a copious stream, enters the German Ocean at Pegwell Bay, near Richborough Castle and the antiquated, sleepy-looking, yet still prosperous town of Sandwich. The Stour has two main branches, distinguished as the Greater and Lesser Stour. The Greater Stour is formed by two streams, which flow along the valley between the North Downs and the green-sand hills in opposite directions; one coming from the northwest near Lenham, the other from the south-east not far from Hythe on the coast; they unite near Ashford, and, turning to the north-east, pass through a depression in the North Downs, and flow by Wye and Canterbury to the neighbourhood of Sarre, in the Isle of Thanet. Here the Stour parts into two branches, one of which falls into the estuary of the Thames, and the other into Pegwell Bay, as we have mentioned. Lesser Stour rises near Lyminge, about three miles north of Hythe, and, flowing north by east to Barham, (above which it sometimes becomes dry,) turns north by west, and skirting Barham Downs, flows to Bridge, near Canterbury. Here it makes another bend, and runs north-east into that arm of the Greater Stour which falls into Pegwell Bay. The two arms of the Stour, which insulate Thanet, were once a channel three or four miles over, which received several streams beside the Greater and Lesser Stour. This channel was called the Wantsume. The channel continued to be navigable for ships of tolerable burthen in the reign. of King Henry VIII. Fragments of old vessels, old The |