I have seen out of the house. Nevertheless the old couple seem to me to live as safely as we do at our Årsta, and to be about as little careful of fastening the house-door at night. The house is an old one (N.B., for this young country), with antique furniture, and rooms testifying of good old-fashioned aristocratic taste and comfort.
Round the house is a park, or garden, rich in the most beautiful trees, shrubs, and plants of the country, planted by Mr. Poinsett himself, according to Mr.Downing's advice, and, as under the snow-covered roof at Concord, had I the pleasure of hearing the words, “Mr. Downing has done much for this country,” so universal is the influence of Mr. Downing here in the improvement of taste, and the awakening a sense of the beautiful, as regards buildings, the cultivation of gardens, and the laying out of public grounds.
North America has also this peculiarity, that all kinds of trees and shrubs from other parts of the world may be removed here, become naturalised and flourish; in the grounds around Casa Bianca are a great number from foreign countries. Of all the trees here I like best the native large live-oak, with its long, pendant growth of moss, (two magnificent specimens of this tree stand opposite the house on the banks of Pee Dee, and form by their branches an immense portico, through which one sees the river and the landscape beyond) and the sober, lofty, dark green magnolias. Outside my window, which is in the upper story, stands a cornus Floridæ, a tree whose crown now seems to be a mass of snow-white blossom, and early in the morning I hear and see the thrushes singing their rich morning song on its topmost branches; farther off is the deliciously odoriferous Olea fragrans from Peru, and many beautiful rare trees and shrubs. Among these sing the thrushes and the mockingbirds, and swarms of blackbirds twitter and chatter, and build in the great live-oaks. Mrs. Poinsett will not allow
