“Till dove-like peace return to England’s shore,
And war and slaughter vex the land no more.”
EVENING VII.
ON THE PINE AND FIR TRIBE.—A Dialogue.
Tutor—George—Harry.
Tutor. Let us sit down awhile on this bench, and look about us. What a charming prospect!
Harry. I admire those pleasure-grounds. What beautiful clumps of trees there are in that lawn!
George. But what a dark gloomy wood that is at the back of the house!
Tut. It is a fir plantation; and those trees always look dismal in the summer, when there are so many finer greens to compare them with. But the winter is their time for show, when other trees are stripped of their verdure.