"I
am told that they love to come here and sketch those old oaks and their
vistas, and the old mansion yonder. But you are an intrusive set, you
artists, and think that a pencil and a sheet of paper may be your
passport anywhere. You are mistaken, sir. My park is not open to
strangers."
"I am sorry, then, to have intruded upon you," said Middleton, still in
good humor; for in truth he felt a sort of kindness, a sentiment,
ridiculous as it may appear, of kindred towards the old gentleman, and
besides was not unwilling in any way to prolong a conversation in which
he found a singular interest. "I am sorry, especially as I have not even
the excuse you kindly suggest for me. I am not an artist, only an
American, who have strayed hither to enjoy this gentle, cultivated, tamed
nature which I find in English parks, so contrasting with the wild,
rugged nature of my native land. I beg your pardon, and will retire."
"An American," repeated Mr. Eldredge, looking curiously at him. "Ah, you
are wild men in that country, I suppose, and cannot conceive that an
English gentleman encloses his grounds--or that his ancestors have done
so before him--for his own pleasure and convenience, and does not
calculate on having it infringed upon by everybody, like your own
forests, as you say. It is a curious country, that of yours; and in Italy
I have seen curious people from it.
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