owper beckons to the groves of Olney; and
the melancholy ghost of Chatterton, (kindred to Cowper only in his woes
and his genius,) has fled from the crowded thoroughfares of London, where
he sank oppressed in the turmoil of life, to haunt forever, in the eyes of
the dreaming enthusiast, those dim aisles of St. Mary Redcliffe in
Bristol, whence he drew the spells which immortalized but could not
preserve him. And thus will it be when the lights of to-day, the bards of
living renown, shall have passed away, but not to be forgotten. No one
will then think of tracing Wordsworth, or Moore, or Southey, amid the
dusky lanes and glittering saloons of the metropolis, but the lakes of
Cumberland and the bowers of Wiltshire will still rejoice in the
ever-brightening honors of associated genius. Even the hardier spirits of
the isle, whose destiny has called them to the rougher paths of life, to
the battle-field or the senate, away from the haunts of nature and the
Muse; even these have seldom failed, in the intervals of busier life, to
remember the charms of the rural life of England, and in giving their more
familiar hours to its enjoyments, have bequeathed to many a fair spot a
heritage of memories more precious than wealth, and which the pilgrims of
after ages will not willingly let perish.

It is to one of these provincial retreats, (if such they may be called,
when the migratory habits of society are rendering them daily more known
and frequented) that the foregoing remarks are designed to lead the
attention of the indulgent reader.

'The southern district of Kent,' says Gibbon, 'which borders on Sussex and
the sea, was formerly overspread with the great forest Anderida; and even
now retains the denomination of the Weald, or Woodland.' On the verge of
this region, now diversified with the traces of civilization and culture,
and at the distance of some thirty miles from London, stands Penshurst,
for many generations the domain and seat of the illustrious family of
Sydney. The mansion is of that class termed castellated houses, as
retaining some of the features of the feudal castle, but accommodated to
the more secure and less circumspect usages of a later age. In itself, it
presents perhaps no very striking example of the merits or defects of its
class, but it claims a much higher distinction in having been the
birth-place and paternal home of Sir Philip Sydney.

To what name can we point which is more brightly adorned than hi