Then Again Some Trees Which Have Turned To A Rich Brown, Will Be Seen Intertwined And Festooned By The Wild Vine Or Red Root, Still Beautifully Green; Or A Tree That Is Still Green Will He Mantled Over By The Canadian Ivy, Whose Leaves Have Turned To A Deep Reddish-Brown.

In fact, every hue that painters love, or almost could imagine, is found standing out boldly or hid away

In some recess, in one part or another of a forest scene at this season, and all so delicately mingled and blended that human art must despair of making even a tolerable imitation. And these are beauties which not even the sun can portray; the photographer's art has not yet enabled him to seize and fix them on the mirror which he holds up to nature. He can give the limbs and outward flourishes, but not the soul of such a scene. His representation bears the same relation to the reality that a beautiful corpse does to the flashing eye and glowing cheek of living beauty." - (From "Maple Leaves," 1865.)

LONGWOOD.

THE COUNTRY SEAT OF THE HON. WM. SMITH (1760-1847.)

Here there was laughing of old, there was weeping, Haply of lovers none ever will know, Whose eyes went seaward a hundred sleeping Years ago.

The ghost of a garden fronts the sea, A girdle of brushwood and thorn encloses The - square slope of the blossomless bed Where the weeds that grew green from the graves of its roses Now lie dead.

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