We borrow something of the spirit of the hour to look upon them.
The first place where we stopped was one of singular beauty, a beauty of soft, luxuriant wildness.

It was on the bend of the river, a place chosen by an Irish gentleman, whose absenteeship seems of the wisest kind, since, for a sum which would have been but a drop of water to the thirsty fever of his native land, he commands a residence which has all that is desirable, in its independence, its beautiful retirement, and means of benefit to others.
His park, his deer-chase, he found already prepared; he had only to make an avenue through it.

This brought us to the house by a drive, which in the heat of noon seemed long, though afterwards, in the cool of morning and evening, delightful.

This is, for that part of the world, a large and commodious dwelling.

Near it stands the log-cabin where its master lived while it was building, a very ornamental accessory.
In front of the house was a lawn, adorned by the most graceful trees.
A few of these had been taken out to give a full view of the river, gliding through banks such as I have described.