hen entreat that the native deciduous trees may
be left in complete possession of the lower ground; and that plantations
of larch, if introduced at all, may be confined to the highest and most
barren tracts. Interposition of rocks would there break the dreary
uniformity of which we have been complaining; and the winds would take
hold of the trees, and imprint upon their shapes a wildness congenial to
their situation.

Having determined what kinds of trees must be wholly rejected, or at
least very sparingly used, by those who are unwilling to disfigure the
country; and having shown what kinds ought to be chosen; I should have
given, if my limits had not already been overstepped, a few practical
rules for the manner in which trees ought to be disposed in planting.
But to this subject I should attach little importance, if I could
succeed in banishing such trees as introduce deformity, and could
prevail upon the proprietor to confine himself, either to those found in
the native woods, or to such as accord with them. This is, indeed, the
main point; for, much as these scenes have been injured by what has been
taken from them--buildings, trees, and woods, either through negligence,
necessity, avarice, or caprice--it is not the removals, but the harsh
_additions_ that have been made, which are the worst grievance--a
standing and unavoidable annoyance. Often have I felt this distinction,
with mingled satisfaction and regret; for, if no positive deformity or
discordance be substituted or superinduced, such is the benignity of
Nature, that, take away from her beauty after beauty, and ornament after
ornament, her appearance cannot be marred--the scars, if any be left,
will gradually disappear before a healing spirit; and what remains will
still be soothing and pleasing.--

Many hearts deplored
The fate of those old trees; and oft with pain
The traveller at this day will stop and gaze
On wrongs which Nature scarcely seems to heed:
For sheltered places, bosoms, nooks, and bays,
And the pure mountains, and the gentle Tweed,
And the green silent pastures, yet remain.

There are few ancient woods left in this part of England upon which such
indiscriminate ravage as is here 'deplored,' could now be committed.
But, out of the numerous copses, fine woods might in time be raised,
probably without sacrifice of profit, by leaving, at the periodical
fellings, a due proportion of the healthiest trees t