By the millionaire
proprietor during a four years' residence in Italy, France and Germany.
Such we remember Spencer Wood in its palmiest days, when it was the ornate
home of a man of taste, the late Henry Atkinson, Esquire, the President of
the Horticultural Society of Quebec.
May I be pardoned, for lingering lovingly on this old spot, recalling
"childhood scenes" of one dear to me and mine!
The following, written by a valued old friend of Mr. Atkinson, is dated
Brighton, England:
On a sketch of Spencer Wood sent to the writer (Miss A.), with her
album, Oct. 18, 1848.
Dear Spencer Wood! What a group of pleasing remembrances are clustered
around me as I gaze upon this visible image and type of thee. Thy
classic lawn, with its antiquated oaks and solemn pines; thy wood-
crowned cliffs and promontories, with the sparkling sunlight reflected
on a thousand sheaves from the broad surface of Jacques Cartier's
river, hundreds of feet below. And then the quiet repose of thy ample
mansion, with its stores of art and models of taste within and
without; thy forest shades, thy gardens, thy flowers and thy fruit.
But most of all, thy gay and happy inmates, their glad and joyous
hearts beating with generous emotions, and their countenances
brightened with the welcome smile.
