has his particular manner of playing; an allufion, which may not unaptly be applied to writing. I have been told by some of my friends, that my play is fharp; I believe it may be fo; but were I to endeavour to alter it, I could not play at all. I trust, however, that my friends will vouch for me, that whatever sharpness there may be in my ftyle, there is no rancour in my heart.

On reading over what I have written, I could not but lament that there should be any controversy between us. Controversy at best is but a rough game, and in some points not unlike the ancient tournaments; where friends and acquaintance, merely for a trial of skill, and love of victory, with all civility and courtefy tilted at each others breasts—tried to unhorse each other-grew more eager and animated-drew their fwords-ftruck where the armour was weakeft, and where the steel would bite to the quick-and all without

without animofity. As thefe doughty comba-. tants of the days of yore, after many a hard blow given and received, met together in perfect cordiality at the famous round tables; fo I hope we often fhall meet at the tables of our common friends. And as they, forgetting the smarts of their mutual wounds, gaily difcourfed of the charms of beauty, of feats of arms, of various ftratagems of war, of the difpofition of troops, the choice of ground, and ambuscades in woods and ravines---fo we may talk of the many correfpondent difpofitions and ftratagems in your milder art; of its broken picturesque ravines, of the intricacies and concealments of woods and thickets, and of all its fofter, and more generally attractive beauties.

Though I have already, perhaps, dwelt too long on that great principle, Connection, yet I cannot conclude this Letter without mentioning an example of its effects in a more important fphere. Not that its effects

N

fects are doubtful, but that it is an example by no means unapplicable to the subject on which I have been writing, and one that, in the present crifis, cannot be too much impreffed on our minds.

The mutual connection and dependance of all the different ranks and orders of men in this country; the innumerable, but voluntary ties by which they are bound and united to each other, (fo different from what are experienced by the fubjects of any other monarchy,) are perhaps the firmest securities of its glory, its ftrength, and its happiness. Freedom, like the general atmosphere, is diffused through every part, and its steady and settled influence, like that of the atmosphere on a fine evening, gives at once a glowing warmth, and a union to all within its sphere: and although the separation of the different ranks and their gradations, like those of visible objects, is known and afcertained, yet from the beneficial

mixture,

mixture, and frequent intercommunication of high and low, that separation is happily disguised, and does not fenfibly operate on the general mind. But should any of these most important links be broken; fhould any fudden gap, any distinct undisguised line of feparation be made, fuch as between the noble and the roturier, the whole strength of that firm chain (and firm may it stand) would at once be broken.

May the ftrength of that exalted principle, whofe effects I have so much enlarged upon, enable us to cultivate this and every other art of peace in full fecurity, whatever ftorms threaten us from without; and as it fo happily pervades the true fpirit of our government and conftitution, may it no less prevail in all our plans for embellishing the outward face of this noble kingdom,

Till Albion smile

One ample theatre of fylvan grace.*

I will

This line has, I believe, been often quoted, and always as defcriptive of the happy effects of modern gardening on

the

I will now conclude this long comment on your Letter, and as it is the firft, fo I hope it will be the last time of my addreffing you in this public manner; in every private intercourse and communication, I fhall always feel great fatisfaction.

I am, Sir,

Your most obedient

Humble fervant,

UVEDALE PRICE.

the general face of the country: to me it appears to have exactly the oppofite tendency, and for that reafon I have made use of it; though I hope it will not be thought that, like Panurge, I am always crying au rebours. I by no means, however, conceive that Mr. Mafon intended, by fylvan grace, to inculcate fuch a doctrine, as that all parts of an improved place should be wild, in thickets, and free from every appearance of art; but that the general features and outline of the place fhould be fo far fylvan, as not to be disjoined from the furrounding objects. This fingle word fylvan, added to many other instances throughout his poem, is to me a plain indication that Mr. Mason had, in his idea, a much more free, connected, and painter-like flyle of improvement, than he had feen practifed by any of those, whose works he had just recommended to his reader's attention.