In the centre of the park there is a circular plantation of
im-mense circumference, and in the interior of this you are
in a perfect Arcadia. The mind cannot conceive any thing
more hushed, more sylvan, more entirely removed from the
slightest evidence of proximity to a town. Nothing is
audible there except the songs of birds and the rustling of
leaves. Kensington gardens, beautiful as they are, have no
seclusion so perfect as this.
~71~~in life we cling still closer to the recollections of our infancy;
the cheerful man loves to dwell over the scenes and frolics of his
boyish days; and we are stricken to the very heart by the removal or
change of these pleasant localities; the loss of an old servant, an old
building, or an old tree, is felt like the loss of an old friend. The
paths, and fields, and rambles of our infancy are endeared to us by
the fondest and the purest feelings of the mind; we lose sight of our
increasing infirmities, as we retrace the joyous mementos of the past,
and gain new vigour as we recall the fleeting fancies and pleasant
vagaries of our earliest days. I am one of those," continued Crony, "who
am doomed to deplore the destructive advances of what generally goes by
the name of improvement; and yet, I am not insensible to the great and
praiseworthy efforts of the sovereign to increase the splendour of the
capital westward; but leave me a few of the green fields and hedgerow
walks which used to encircle the metropolis, or, in a short space, the
first stage from home will only be half-way out of London.
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