Under the article of timber, the author gives an interesting account of the comparative demand for each kind; and we fhall extract, for various reafons, the conclufion. • We do not deliver the foregoing sketch as a perfectly correc account of the application of woods in this country: the attempt is new, and that which is new is difficult. We have not omitted to confult with profeffional men upon the fubject; and we believe it to be fufficiently accurate for the purpofe of the planter. If we have committed any material error, we afk to be fet right. We do not wish to defcend to minutiæ: it would be of little fignification to the planter, to be told what toys and toothpicks are made from it: it is of much more importance to him to know, that, of English woods, the oak is moft in demand, perhaps three to one, perhaps in a much greater proportion; that the afh, the elm, the beech, and the box, follow next; and that the chefnut, the walnut, and the prunus and pinus tribes are principally valuable as fubftitutes for oak and foreign timber. It likewife may not be improper in this place to mention, that the oak, though of flower growth than the afh, the elm, the beech, the larch, the firs, and the aquatics, is nearly of twice the value of any of those woods at market; therefore, in a private and pecuniary point of view, the oak is the most eligible tree to be planted; in a public light, it rises above comparifon.' His remarks on hedges we cannot, from the nature of the fubject, either analyfe or extract. Our author is very fond of the Norfolk husbandry in this branch, and his remarks are so judicious and intelligent, that we recommend them not only to the embellisher of the ferme ornée, but to the practical hufbandman. On the fubject of woodlands, the different kinds are dif tinctly treated, from plantations of the majestic oak, to the humble ozier-bed. Though we wish to affilt the public fpirit of the author, in encouraging plantations, yet we must refer to his work for the particulars. His own arguments are too long for an extract; and we would not weaken his language by abridging them in our own. The following calculations are curious, and we believe them to be just. • From an extenfive knowledge of the different parts of the kingdom, we believe that the nation has not yet experienced any real want of timber. We are happy to find that in many parts of it there are great quantities now ftanding; whilst in many other parts we are forry to fee an almost total nakednefs. With respect to large well-grown oak timber, fuch as is fit for the purposes of fhip-building, we believe there is a growing fcarcity throughout the whole kingdom. We will explain ourfelves, by fpeaking particularly as to one district the vale of Derwent, in Yorkshire. This diftrict for for ages paft has fupplied in a great meafure the ports of Whitby and Scarborough with fhip-timber. At prefent, notwithftanding the extenfive tracts of woodlands ftill remaining, there is fcarcely a tree left ftanding with a load of timber in it. Befides, the woods which now exift have principally been raised from the ftools of timber-trees formerly taken down; the faplings from which being numerous, they have drawn each other up flender, in the grove manner; and confequently never will be fuitable to the more valuable purposes of the fhip-builder. . When we confider the prodigious quantity of timber which is confumed in the conftruction of a large veffel, we feel a concern for the probable fitoation of this country at fome future period. A feventy-four gun fhip, we fpeak from good authority, fwallows up nearly, or full, three thoufand loads of oak timber. A load of timber is fifty cubical feet; a ton, forty feet; confequently, a feventy-four gun fhip takes two thoufand large well-grown timber-trees; namely, trees of nearly two tons each! The distance recommended by authors for planting trees in a wood, a fubject we shall speak to particularly in the course of this chapter, in which underwood is alfo propagated, is thirty feet or upwards. Suppofing trees to ftand at two rods (thirty-three feet, the diftance we recommend they should stand at in fuch a plantation), each ftatute acre would contain forty trees; confequently the building of a feventy-four gun fhip would clear, of fuch woodland, the timber of fifty acres. Even fuppofing the trees to stand at one rod apart (a fhort diftance for trees of the magnitude above mentioned), we fhould clear twelve acres and an half; no inconfiderable plot of woodland. When we confider the number of king's fhips that have been built during the late unfortunate war; and the Eaft Indiamen, merchant hips, colliers, and small craft, that are launched daily in the different ports of the kingdom, we are ready to tremble for the confequences. Nevertheless, there are men who treat the idea of an approaching fcarcity as being chimerical; and, at present, we will hope that they have fome foundation for their opinion, and that the day of want is not near. At fome future opportu nity we may endeavour to reduce to a degree of certainty, what at prefent is, in fome meafure, conjectural. The prefent ftate' of this ifland with respect to fhip-timber is, to the community, a fubject of the very firit importance.' The obfervations on grounds are dictated by the truest taste, and we shall beg leave to fupport our own opinions on their au thority. We have the pleasure of finding that our very intelligent author generally agrees with the remarks which the dif ferent productions in this way have occafionally drawn from A bridge, fays he, fhould never be feen where it is not wanted; aufeiefs bridge is a deception; deceptions are frauds; and fraud is always hateful, unlefs when practifed to avert us. fome fome greater evil. A bridge, without water, is an abfurdity; and half a one stuck up as an eye-trap is a paltry trick, which, though it may ftrike the ftranger, cannot fail of disgusting when the fraud is found out." Nearly in the fame 'mauner we lately reprehended a deceit of this kind; and those who may probably difdain to be taught by a reviewer, immured, as is suspected, in his garret, will probably attend to observations of an able author, whom they may fuppofe to be more converfant with the real fcenes. In our fifty-fixth volume, p. 259, we reviewed the tranflation of the Viscount d'Ermenonville's Effay on Landscape, and there afferted, in ftrong terms, the English right to the invention of modern gardening. The French, we observed, were once the strongest opponents of this reformation, and now, when it is generally adopted, they attribute it to the Greeks,' the Chinese, or any nation except the English This illiberality, in an age fo enlightened, is the ftrongest proof of the weakness of the human mind; of the invincible power which a mean jealousy till enjoys, in fpite of enlarged knowlege and free inquiry. In the ornamental parts of gardening, our author oppofes this fpirit of our neighbours with propriety, and traces with a juft difcrimination the rife of this delightful art. • We have been told that the English garden is but a copy of the gardens of the Chinefe: this, however, is founded in Gallic envy rather than in truth; for though their style of gardening may not admit of tatooings and topiary works, it has as little to do with natural fcenery as the garden of an ancient Roman, or a modern Frenchman:-The art of affifting nature is, undoubtedly, all our own." Mankind have, in all ages, differed refpe&ting the degree, of art required in their ornamented gardenings; yet perhaps. they have not been always wrong, though they have almost al-, ways differed. The eye is foon tired of the ftyle of the ob jects before it, and we are fometimes tempted, in the midst of rural beauties, to cry out with the fecluded coquette, odious, odious trees!' Perhaps, in our retirements, we wish for fomewhat different from the face of nature; perhaps we think no pains or art employed, if our gardens are not diftinguished from the country. In the times when extenfive plantations were in many places vifible, when private property was not afcertained, or, if afcertained, fubject to depredations, we feparated our gardens, and diftinguished them with an exact regularity. But, when every field was divided by a fence, when ftrait lines and right angles were generally the objects, and the trees fet in hedge rows, or curtailed by the careful husbandman; when they were defpoiled of their beauties, that they they might not injure the crop by their fhade, we then looked to other scenes; and in this variety we have fortunately found reafons to explain, and philofophical principles to fupport our preference. The next age may fee another revolution, and a different philofophy may be brought in aid of it; but, at prefent, it will perhaps be agreeable to our readers to examine how far art may be properly introduced. We fhall transcribe our author's fentiments on the fubject: they want not our recommendation. In the lower claffes of rural improvements, art should be feen as little as may be; and in the more negligent scenes of nature, every thing ought to appear as if it had been done by the general laws of nature, or had grown out of a series of fortuitous circumftances. But, in the higher departments, art cannot be hid; and the appearance of defign ought not to be excluded. A human production cannot be made perfectly natural; and, held out as fuch, it becomes an impofition. Our art lies in endeavouring to adapt the productions of nature to hu man taste and perceptions; and, if much art be used, do not attempt to hide it. Who confiders an accomplished well-dreffed woman as in a state of nature? and who, feeing a beautiful ground adorned with wood and lawn, with water, bridges, and buildings, believes it to be a natural production? Art feldom fails to please when executed in a masterly manner: nay, it is frequently the defign and execution, more than the production. itself, that ftrikes us. It is the artifice, not the defign, which ought to be avoided. It is the labour, and not the art, which ought to be concealed. A well-written poem would be read with lefs pleasure, if we knew the painful exertions it gave rise to in the compofition; and the rural artist ought, upon every occafion, to endeavour to avoid labour; or, if indifpenfibly neceffary, to conceal it. No trace fhould be left to lead back the mind to the expenfive toil. A mound raised, a'mountain leveled, or a useless temple built, convey to the mind feelings equally difgufting. But though the aids of art are as effential to gardening as education is to manners; yet art may do too much: the ought to be confidered as the handmaid, not as the miftrefs, of nature: and whether the be employed in carving a tree into the figure of an animal, or in thaping a view into the form of a picture, the is equally culpable. The nature of the place is facred. Should this tend to landfcape, from fome principal point of view, affist nature, and perfect it; provided this can be done without injuring the views from other points. But do not disfigure the natural features of the place:-do not facrifice its native beauties, to the arbitrary laws of landscape painting. "Great nature fcorns controul; fhe will not bear She She gives thee to adorn : 'tis thine alone To mend, not change her features." MASON. In a picture bounded by its frame, a perfect lanfcape is looked for it is of itself a whole, and the frame must be filled. But it is not fo in ornamented nature: for, if a fide-screen be wanting, the eye is not offended with the frame, or the wainfcot; but has always fome natural and pleafing object to receive it. Suppofe a room to be hung with one continued rural reprefentation, would pretty pictures be expected? would correct landscapes be looked for? Nature fcarcely knows the thing mankind call a landfcape. The landfcape-painter feldom, if ever, finds it perfected it to his hands ;-some addition or alteration is almost always wanted. Every man who has made his obfervations upon natural fcenery, knows that the misletoe of the oak occurs almost as often as a perfect natural landscape; and to attempt to make up artificial landscape, upon every occafion, is unnatural and abfurd.' We have paid more than usual attention to this work, because we think it in many respects valuable; but, as we have remarked fome inaccuracies in compofition, the intelligent, author will forgive us for obferving, that the language alfo is not always correct. The are" THE candour, the liberality, and good fenfe, which are confpicuous in every page of this important volume, deferve the greatest commendation. The writer on morality has generally divested himself of his feelings, or, in the conduct of the human mind, has forgotten that Providence implanted defires and propenfities, not to be deftroyed, but to be regulated; not to be checked, as the bane of human felicity, but › to be conducted with moderation and prudence, as its beft. fources. We have not often perceived, in authors of this kind, an intimate acquaintance with the human heart, fo neceffary. to unravel its intricacies, and develope its inconfiftencies: we have seldom feen, in those well versed in this science, a knowlege of human life, and abilities to trace the ruling paffion, viz. a defire for happiness, through its various mazes, and its different errors. In all these refpects, Mr. Paley seems to be well qualified for his undertaking. The form of the work. differs from that of many other fyftems of morality; and this we shall explain chiefly in the author's own words. In the treatifes that I have met with upon the fubject of morals, I appear to myself to have remarked the following im per |