Those who visit these Falls in the pleasantest season for travelling, (the time at which the drawing was taken by Mr. Bartlett,) see them when there is the least water; consequently, when they are (as falls) at their lesser phase of grandeur. It is like seeing a race-horse in the stall, or a line-of-battle-ship in port, with sails furled. It is possible that after one of the tremendous thunder-storms which burst upon this climate sometimes in summer, the glory of the cataract may, for a few hours, renew, and so unite the splendour of full foliage with the flashing of mighty waters: but this is a chance which the traveller for pleasure will scarce hit or wait for. It should be remembered, however, in looking on the drawing, that it is one of a sleeping lion. The frowning walls on either side, driven asunder by the plunges of the torrent in more “yeasty moods” present a sufficient scale by which to measure its slumbering power. Those who live in climes where snow seldom falls, and more seldom lies through one sunny day unmelted, can have but a faint idea of a spring freshet in America. After the first heavy snow in December, each successive fall adds solidity to the heap upon the earth's bosom, and the alternate thawing and freezing consolidates the bottom into ice, and cuts off the heat of the soil from the flakes added almost daily to the surface.

We are not of the number of those who look upon Milton's tree with that reverential awe with which it is regarded by some of its visitants: It is well when faith can so far hold its possession of the mind as to present a more vivid impression to the imagination through the medium of some sensible image, than could be produced without such aid. It was thus that the ancient Persian adored the Sun as the visible image of the Deity and, in humble prostration before the God of day, did but acknowledge, through him, the eternal source of Light and Life. But we confess it is beyond our capacity to associate very distinctly the immortal Bard with a decayed tree, which, now some two hundred years old, may or may not have been stuck in the ground, when a helpless twig, by his hand,

An apple-tree at Pembroke College boasts the venerable Ridley as its foster father or patron: a cedar, though dead, is allowed to stand a memorial of the botanist Martyn: a pear-tree once stood in the garden of Sidney College, which was said to owe its existence there to the Protector: Lausanne, every one knows, rejoices in Gibbon's acacia: and Olney Chace arrogates no little fame to itself from the presence of Cowper's oak.

TO THE EDITOR OF THE PORTFOLIO.

Dear Sir,

Having understood that you consider that an account of the river Cam, in its course to the sea, would tend to the completeness of your work, I propose to supply the want to a certain extent; not however without diffidence, as I have little topographical, physiological, or statistical knowledge of the adjacent districts. My pretensions are founded on the circumstance of my having been concerned in a voyage down the river to Lynn in the spring of 18—, in weather which did full justice to the dreary nakedness of the soil.

Indeed, it is one of the most important refinements in the art of travelling to secure as far as possible a reciprocal adaptation of country and climate. I shall have the advantage in this little narrative of entering at least on untrodden ground; for it is not likely that any of your contributors should have condescended to the exercise of the rude and corporeal energies necessary for so unsedentary an occupation, though indeed in some sense it may be considered sedentary, as rowing. I might perhaps except the author of your account of boat races, who seems to have some acquaintance with the subject; but I may safely assume that his experience is confined to the polish and brilliancy of the art considered as an ἀγώνισμα ἐς τὸ παρὸν, and not to its practical application as a mode of conveyance to a distance.

The Gogmagog Hills, or, as they were more anciently termed, the “Pleasant Hills of Balsham,” would in most parts of England be looked upon as little better than hillocks, but Cambridgeshire is not famous for its mountains, and in their present position these hills lift their heads proudly over every thing which lays claim to the same name in their immediate neighbourhood. They are one of the favourite objects of pilgrimage to the Cambridge Student, on account of the rich and extensive views which are seen from their summit.

The most agreeable approach to the hills is by the lower road through Cherry-Hinton, which, with the clear limpid stream that skirts it, and the soft turf of the pasture meadows over which it leads, is in Summer one of the prettiest walks about Cambridge. But the more direct road lies along the high-way to Linton—dull, straight, and dusty as any road may well be, yet it leads to the loftiest part of the Gogmagogs, where, on the right, under a tuft of trees, by a simple turn on the bench which some kind hands have placed there, we may enjoy almost at one view the wide panorama extending from the extensive level of Cambridgeshire, with the Minster of Ely as its central and principal object, to the rich and well wooded county of Essex.

The current of life seems to be too rapid in America to allow time for reflection upon any thing which, can possibly be deferred. The monuments are left unfinished on our battle-fields; the tombs of great men become indistinguishable before marked with a stone; and the sacred places where patriotism has dwelt, are rated by the value of their material, and left to decay. It is difficult to visit Mount Vernon, and feel, from any mark of care or respect visible about it, that America owes any thing to the sacred ashes it entombs.

The family tomb at Mount Vernon has once been robbed by a sacrilegious ruffian, whose ignorance alone preserved for us the remains of Washington. It has been proposed to Congress to buy Mount Vernon, and establish a guard over relics so hallowed. Why should not this be done, and a sufficient sum be appropriated to enclose and keep in order the whole estate, improve the execrable road leading to it from Alexandria, and employ persons to conduct strangers over the place?

The vault in which the ashes of Washington repose, is at the distance of, perhaps, thirty rods from the house, immediately upon the bank of the river. A more romantic and picturesque site for a tomb can scarcely be imagined.

In 1627 was published a book called Vox Piscis or the Book-Fish. The preface quaintly relates the story of its origin :— it was simply this, that the sheets from which the matter was taken were found in the maw of a cod-fish that was caught on “Lin deeps.” From the fisherman it came to the Cambridge market; it was opened in common course, and the book produced, where Benjamin Prime the Batchelor's beadle seeing it, had it conveyed to the Vice-Chancellor who took special notice of it, and made inquisition into the truth of the matter. The book was put into the hands of a binder to be restored: the story soon became known and was proclaimed by letter in all parts of the world. This happened at Commencement when it may be supposed fish were in request; the wonder excited by the event was great, and the talk spread wide: some spoke in earnest, others in joke ;—

“A yongue Scholar (who had in a Stationer's shop peeped into the Titles of the Ciuill Law) there viewing this vnconcocted booke in the Codd-fish, made a Quiblet thereupon, saying, ‘that it might be found in the Code, but could neuer be entred into the Digest.’” “Another said or wrote, ‘that hee would hereafter never count it a reproach to be called Codshead, seeing that fish is now become so learned an heluo librorum,’ which signifieth a man of much reading, or skilfull in many bookes.”

The Institution of a Botanic Garden had long been a desideratum at Cambridge. “So long ago as 1696 the ground for a Physic Garden had been measured, and the plan drawn,” but through some unknown impediment the scheme failed. Professor Bradley made large but hollow promises on the subject in 1724, with the mere view (it should seem) of obtaining the Botanical Chair; he publicly repeated them in his lectures in 1729; but nothing was done. In 1731 there appeared more hope; for many conferences were held between the Vice-Chancellor Professor John Martyn and Mr. Phillip Miller, of the Chelsea Garden, respecting the estate of a Mr. Brownell, of Willingham, which was once intended to be devoted to the establishment of a Botanic Garden at Cambridge; but this estate was diverted into another channel. At length the plan was happily effected through the liberality of Dr. Walker, the Vice-Master of Trinity College, who gave an estate to trustees for that purpose. The ground selected was the site of the Monastery of the Austin Friars, in the parish of St. Edward's, and was purchased by Dr. Walker for £1600 in 1761.”

The site of the present Botanic Garden together with five or six tenements in Freeschool lane, amounting in all to above five acres, were made over to the University by an Indenture which exists in the Registrary's office and is dated 24th Aug. 1762.