I like this rich, velvet grass.

How beautiful, how magnificent!" he exclaimed, his eye taking in the wide sweep of landscape, here and there darkened with shade, and at intervals literally blazing with the crimson sunlight,--then sweeping on over the swelling mountains, so grand in their purple drapery and golden crowns.
"How exquisitely beautiful! My mother could not have selected a lovelier spot,--and these old granite walls! how antique, how classic they are!" He turned and examined them, with a pleased yet criticizing eye.

He walked up and down the velvet lawn with a firm, yet restless step, stopping occasionally to measure with his glance the towering oaks and the gigantic elm.

I began to be uneasy at the protracted absence of Mrs.
Linwood, and kept my eyes fixed upon the road, whose dark, rich, slatish-colored surface, seen winding through green margins, resembled a stream of deep water, it was so smooth and uniform.

I knew how full must be the heart of the traveller.