I DO not knoing to range at ed apartments of some fine old family mansion. traces of extinct grandeur admit of a better passion templations on t and good, s, ible le of modern occupancy, and vanities of foolis aristocracy. ttends us betering an empty and a croer it is c some present y -- an act of inattention on t of some of tory -- or a trait of affectation, or  of ts us by our best ts, dis  ty of er Sexton, traverse try cy t ions, old and young, t ion tor -- turbing emotions, no cross conflicting comparisons, drink in tranquillity of till tionless as t kneel and hee.

    Journeying nortely, I could not resist going some fe of my road to look upon t  t ely pulled it doill I ion t it could not all  so mucy   once into t and rubbis.

    t ion of a feo -- an antiquity.

    I onis tinction of everytood t gates?  bounded t-yard?  did t-atives of t ely and so spacious.

    Deat sim at te. t asion.

    ar knaves at truction, at t ts at my . I s to to spare a plank at least out of tore-room, in  I used to sit and read Co before, and t one solitary  ever ed it about me -- it is in mine ears no as summer returns; or a pannel of the yellow room.

    , tapestried bed-rooms -- tapestry so mucter ting -- not adorning merely, but peopling t -- at s coverlid (replaced as quickly) to exercise its tender courage in a momentary eye-encounter ern brigaring reciprocally -- all Ovid on tions. Actaeon in mid sprout, ill more provoking, and almost culinary coolness of Dan Pely divesting of Marsyas.

    t ed room -- in  alime, y, terror-tainted, to ion . --  up again?

    It ed place, yet not so long deserted but t traces of t inmates s furniture ill standing -- even to tarnis leattledores, and crumbling feattlecocks in told t c I ment, knew every nook and corner, wondered and worshipped everywhere.

    tude of c so muc, as it is tion. So strange a passion for t, to say ance from trees, ic lake, suco t to pass its strict and proper precincts, t ters lay unexplored for me, and not till late in life, curiosity prevailing over elder devotion, I found, to my astonis, a pretty braed vieensive prospects -- and t not great distance from told of suc o me, being out of to roam, I ill closer t securer cincture of t garden-loving poet --

    Bind me, ye wines,

    Curl me about, ye gadding vines,

    And oh so close your circles lace

    t I may never leave this place

    But, lest your fetters prove too weak,

    Ere I your silken bondage break,

    Do you, O brambles coo,

    And, courteous briars, nail me through!

    I  roof-parlours ten feet by ten -- frugal boards, and all tion of my birted in. Yet,  impeac to tenderest lessons, I am not sorry to o aken, if but a peep, in c trasting accidents of a great fortune.

    to ility, it is not necessary to le. try may be erms to be obliged to an importunate race of ancestors; and t less antiquary in  to as gay a vanity as t t  to strip me of an idea? Is it trenc to t be orn aarniser?

    , else,  to us? edious genealogies, or tulatory brass monuments?  to us terrupted current of t anso a cognate and correspondent elevation?

    Or tered and diminisc ime-airs, BLAKESMOOR!  stood poring upon tic cers -- tic supporters, ic quot;Resurgamquot; -- till, every dreg of peasantry purging off, I received into myself Very Gentility? t first in my morning eyes; and of nig detained my steps from bedill it  a step from gazing at to dreaming on thee.

    true gentry by adoption; table c, as empirics ransfusion.

    rop, I inquired not; but its fading rags, and colours cobained, told t its subject uries back.

    And or at t date as feeding flocks, not  vindicate to myself trappings of triumps  possibly ime upon my poor pastoral progenitor.

    If it ion so to speculate, t o reason to complain. trifle; and I  to appropriate to myself o raise my fancy, or to sooty.

    I rue descendent of t t family of t name, we places.

    Mine  gallery of good old family portraits, ions looked grave, as it seemed, at ts of fled posterity.

    t beauty oral drapery, and a lamb -- t  t bay  yelloake it.

    Mine too, BLAKESMOOR, s mosaic pavements, and its tately busts in marble ranged round: of y of Nero, I remember,  of my  tood in t fresality.

    Mine too, ty Justice s one cy, error of luckless poacful maiden -- so common since, t bats ed in it.

    Mine too -- -garden, s sun-baked soutriple terraces, s no lead, save t a speck s, bespake tine state to  and glittering; t quarters backill; and, stretcill beyond, in old formality, t of t antique image in tre, God or Goddess I  not; but co Pan or to Sylvanus in tive groves, to t fragmental mystery.

    as it for t I kissed my coo fervently in your idol imes t as men, inguisations to be revivified.