What; not trust Sir Level Clump implicitly in matters of taste! Conceited indeed!—But what are your own ideas, Sir? Have you surveyed these woods, with all their winding paths, and ferny dells, and dark covert nooks, and tangled thickets? I am, perhaps, too partial to the ancient possessions of my forefathers, but this place seems to me full of sylvan beauty,
SIR LEVEL (tardily).
Yes,—O yes.
CRAFTON.
Don't you think so?
SIR LEVEL.
Assuredly: it is at least practicable ground. If you saw my plan, you would be astonished at what may be made of it. A few hundred pounds spent in clearing away the underwood, and cutting out that heavy mass of forest trees into separate groups, would give it a very elegant, tasteful, parkish appearance.
CRAFTON.
Cut out the mass of forest trees into separate groups! I should be astonished indeed.
SIR LEVEL.
Ay, ay! I knew you would. Lightness, variety, and plan—these are the grand principles; there is nothing like these. For you
