At a distance, the reapers were carrying away their last harvest load; and numerous groups of gleaners, picking up the grain which they had spared, were marching homewards in all the glee of apparent happiness. Immediately on our left, the cattle were grazing in a rich pasture meadow; while before us, the white pheasant darted across the walk, and the stock-dove was heard to wail in the grove. We passed a row of orange trees, glittering with golden fruit; and turning sharply to our right, discovered, on a gentle eminence, and skirted with a profusion of shrubs and delicately shaped trees, the wished-for ALCOVE.

We quickly descried Almansa busied in twining her favorite honey-suckles round the portico; while, within, Belinda was sitting soberly at work, as if waiting our arrival. The ladies saluted us as we approached; and Lorenzo, who till now had been

as it means placid, calm, composed; and intimates the peaceable delight of a fine day.' Shakspeare's Works; edit. 1803; vol. x. p. 73. Alain Chartier, in the motto prefixed to the Second Part of this Bibliographical Romance, has given us a yet more animated, and equally characteris tic, picture. Thomson's serene morning,

Unfolding fair the last autumnal day,

is also very apposite; and reminds us of one of those soft and aërial pic tures of Claude Lorraine, where a heaven-like tranquillity and peace seem to prevail. Delightful scenes !:-we love to steal a short moment from a bustling world, to gaze upon landscapes which appear to have been copied from the paradise of our first parents. Delusive yet fascinating objects of contemplation! You whisper sweet repose, and heart-soothing delight! We turn back upon the world; and the stunning noises of Virgil's Cyclops put all this fair Elysium to flight.

unperceived, came quietly from the interior, with his favorite edition of Thomson* in his hand.

The Alcove, at a distance, had the appearance of a rustic Temple. The form, though a little capricious, was picturesque; and it stood so completely embosomed in rich and variegated foliage, and commanded so fine a swell of landscape, that the visitor must be cold indeed who could approach it with the compass of Palladio in one hand, and the square of Inigo Jones in the other. We entered and looked around us.

Those who have relished the mild beauties of Wynant's pictures, would be pleased with the view from the Alcove of Lorenzo. The country before was varied, undulating, and, the greater part, highly cultivated. Some broad-spreading oaks here and there threw their protecting arms round the humble sap

This must be a favorite edition with every man of taste. It was printed by Bensley, and published by Du Roveray, in the year 1802. The designs were by Hamilton, and the engravings principally by Fittler. The copy which Lorenzo had in his hand was upon large paper; and nothing could exceed the lustre of the type and plates. The editions of Pope, Gray, and Milton, by DU ROVERAY, as well as those of The Spectator, Guardian, Tatler, by Messrs. SHARPE and HAILES, are among the most elegant, as well as accurate, publications of our old popular writers.

Lorenzo was not unmindful that it had been observed by Lipsius (Syntag. de Bibliothecis) and, after him, by Thomasinus (de Donar. et Tabell-votiv. c. 3. p. 37.) that the ancients generally built their libraries near to, or adjoining, their Temples; ut veram sedem sacratorum ingenii fœtuum loca ⚫ sacra esse ostenderent:' BIBLIOTHECAS (inquit) procul abesse (sc. à TEMPLIS) noluerunt veteres, ut ex præclaris ingeniorum monumentis dependens mortalium gloria, in Deorum tutela esset: This I gather from Spi zelius's Infelix Literatus; p. 462.

lings; and some aspiring elms frequently reared their lofty heads, as land-marks across the county. The copses skirted the higher grounds, and a fine park-wood covered the middle part of the landscape in one broad umbrageous tone of coloring. It was not the close rusticity of Hobbima-or the expansive, and sometimes complicated, scenery of Berghem-or the heat-oppressive and magnificent views of Both-that we contemplated; but, as haş been before observed, the mild and gentle scenery of Wynants; and if a cascade or dimpling brook had been near us, I could have called to my aid the transparent pencil of Rysdael, in order to impress upon the reader a proper notion of the scenery. But it is high time to make mention of the conversation which ensued among the tenants of this Alcove.

LOREN. I am heartily glad we are met under such propitious circumstances. What a glorious day!

ALMAN. Have you recovered, Sir, the immense fatigue you must have sustained from the exertions of yesterday? My brother has no mercy upon a thoroughly-versed book guest!

LYSAND. I am indeed quite hearty: yet, if any thing heavy and indigested hung about me, would not the contemplation of such a landscape, and such a day, restore every thing to its wonted ardor?! You cannot conceive how such a scene affects me: even to shedding tears of pleasure-from the reflections to which it gives rise!

BELIN. How strangely and how cruelly has the

character of a bibliographer been aspersed! Last night you convinced me of the ardor of your enthusiasm, and of the eloquence of your expression, in regard to your favorite subject of discussion!-but, this morning, I find that you can talk in an equally impassioned manner respecting garden and woodland scenery!

LYSAND. Yes, Madam: and if I possessed such a domain as does your brother, I think I could even improve it a little-especially the interior of this Alcove! I don't know that I could attach to the house a more appropriate library than he has done; even if I adopted the octagonal form of the Hafod Library;* which, considered with reference

Hafod, in Cardiganshire, South Wales, is the residence of THOMAS JOHNES, Esq. M.P. and Lord-Lieutenant of the county. Mr. Malkin, in his Scenery, Antiquities, and Biography of South Wales, 1804, 4to. and Dr. Smith, in his Tour to Hafod, 1810, folio, have made us pretty well acquainted with the local scenery of Hafod:-yet can any pen or pencil do

this

-Paradise, open'd in the wild,

perfect justice? I have seen Mr. Stothard's numerous little sketches of the pleasure-grounds and surrounding country, which are at once faithful and picturesque. But what were this 'Paradise' of rocks, waterfalls, streams, woods, copses, dells, grottos, and mountains, without the hospitable spirit of the owner-which seems to preside in, and to animate, every summer-house and alcove? The book-loving world is well acquainted with the Chronicles of Froissart, Joinville, De Brocquiere, and Monstrelet, which have issued from the HAFOD PRESS; and have long deplored the loss, from fire, which their author, Mr.Johnes, experienced in the demolition of the greater part of his house and library. The former has been rebuilt, and the latter replenished: yet no Phoenix spirit can revivify the ashes of those volumes which contained the romances notified by the renowned Don Quixote! But I am rambling too wildly among the Hafod rocks--I hasten, therefore, to return and take the reader

to its local situation, is, I think, almost unequalled-but it strikes me that the interior of this Alcove might be somewhat improved.

LOREN. What defects do you discover here Lysander?

with me into the interior of Mr. Johnes's largest library, which is terminated by a Conservatory of upwards of 150 feet. As the ancient little books for children [hight Lac Puerorum !] used to express it-'Look, here it is:"