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From “The Linwoods.”

=_288._= KOSCIUSKO’S GARDEN AT WEST POINT.

The harmonies of Nature’s orchestra were the only and the fitting sounds in this seclusion; the early wooing of the birds; the water from the fountains of the heights, that, filtering through the rocks, dropped from ledge to ledge with the regularity of a water-clock; the ripple of the waves, as they broke upon the rocky points of the shore, or softly kissed its pebbly margin; and the voice of the tiny stream, that, gliding down a dark, deep, and almost hidden channel in the rocks, disappeared and welled up again in the center of the turfy slope, stole over it, and trickled down the lower ledge of granite to the river.  Tradition has named this little, green shelf on the rocks, “Kosciusko’s Garden;” but, as no traces have been discovered of any other than Nature’s plantings, it was probably merely his favorite retreat, and, as such, is a monument of his taste and love of nature.

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=_John Neal, 1793-._= (Manual, p. 510.)

From “Randolph.”

=_289._= THE NATURE OF TRUE POETRY.

Poetry is the naked expression of power and eloquence; but, for many hundred years, poetry has been confounded with false music, measure, and cadence, the soul with the body, the thought with the language, the manner of speaking with the mode of thinking....  What I call poetry, has nothing to do with art or learning.  It is a natural music, the music of woods and waters, not that of the orchestra....  Poetry is a religion, as well as a music.  Nay, it is eloquence.  It is whatever affects, touches, or disturbs the animal or moral sense of man.  I care not how poetry may be expressed, nor in what language; it is still poetry; as the melody of the waters, wherever they may run, in the desert or the wilderness, among the rocks or the grass, will always be melody....  It is not the composition of a master, the language of art, painfully and entirely exact, but is the wild, capricious melody of nature, pathetic or brilliant, like the roundelay of innumerable birds whistling all about you, in the wind and water, sky and air, or the coquetting of a river breeze over the fine string’s of an Aeolian harp, concealed among green, leaves and apple blossoms.

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=_John Pendleton Kennedy, 1795-1870._= (Manual, pp. 490, 510.)

From “Swallow Barn.”

=_290._= THE MANSION AND THE BARN.

Swallow Barn is an aristocratical old edifice, which sits, like a brooding hen, on the southern bank of the James River.  It looks down upon a shady pocket, or nook, formed by an indentation of the shore, from a gentle acclivity, thinly sprinkled with oaks, whose magnificent branches afford habitation to sundry friendly colonies of squirrels and woodpeckers.

This time-honored mansion was the residence of the family of Hazards....