in general, signifies the being carried along on any vehicle.

RIDING on horseback. See Horsemanship.

in Medicine. During this exercise all the viscera are shaken, and pressed against each other; at the same time the pure air acts with a greater force on the lungs. Weakly persons, or those whose stomachs are infirm, should, however, be cautious of riding before their meals are somewhat digested.

in naval affairs, is the state of a ship's being retained in a particular station, by means of one or more cables with their anchors, which are for this purpose sunk into the bottom of the sea, &c., in order to prevent the vessel from being driven at the mercy of the wind or current.—A rope is said to ride, when one of the turns by which it is wound about the capstan or windlass lies over another, so as to interrupt the operation of heaving.

RIDING Athwart, the position of a ship which lies across the direction of the wind and tide, when the former is so strong as to prevent her from falling into the current of the latter.

RIDING between the Wind and Tide, the situation of a vessel at anchor, when the wind and tide act upon her in direct opposition, in such a manner as to destroy the effect of each other upon her hull; so that she is in a manner balanced between their reciprocal force, and rides without the least strain on her cables. When a ship does not labour heavily, or feel a great strain when anchored in an open road or bay, she is said to ride easy. On the contrary, when she pitches violently into the sea, so as to strain her cables, masts, or hull, it is called riding hard, and the vessel is termed a bad roader. A ship is rarely said to ride when she is fastened at both the ends, as in a harbour or river; that situation being comprehended in the article Mooring.

a district visited by an officer.—Yorkshire is divided into three ridings, viz. the east, west, and north ridings. In all indictments in that county, both the town and riding must be expressed.

as connected with gardening, and susceptible of embellishment. See Gardening.

A riding, though in extent differing so widely from a garden, yet agrees with it in many particulars: for, exclusive of that community of character which results from their being both improvements, and both destined of a riding to pleasure, a closer relation arises from the property of a riding, to extend the idea of a seat, and appropriate a whole country to the mansion; for which purpose it must be distinguished from common roads, and the marks of distinction must be borrowed from a garden. Those which a farm or a park can supply are faint and few; but whenever circumstances belonging to a garden occur, they are immediately received as evidence of the domain. The species of the trees will often be decisive: plantations of firs, whether placed on the sides of the way, or in clumps or woods in the view, denote the neighbourhood of a seat: even limes and horse-chestnuts are not indifferent; for they have always been frequent in improvements, and rare in the ordinary scenes of cultivated nature. If the riding be carried through a wood, the shrubs, which for their beauty or their fragrance have been transplanted from the country into gardens, such as the sweet-briar, the viburnum, the euonymus, and the woodbine, should be encouraged in the underwood; and to these may be added several which are still peculiar to shrubberies, but which might easily be transferred to the wildest coverts, and would require no further care.

Where the species are not, the disposition may be particular, and any appearance of design is a mark of improvement. A few trees standing out from a hedge-row, raise it to an elegance above common rusticity: and still more may be done by clumps in a field; they give it the air of a park. A close lane may be decorated with plantations in all the little vacant spaces: and even the groups originally on the spot (whether it be a wood, a field or a lane), if properly selected, and those only left which are elegant, will have an effect: though every beauty of this kind may be found in nature, yet many of them are seldom seen together, and never unmixed. The number and the choice are symptoms of design.

Another symptom is variety. If the appendages of the riding be different in different fields, if in a lane, or a wood, some distinguishing circumstance be provided for every bend: or when, carried over an open exposure, it winds to several points of view; if this be the conduct throughout, the intention is evident, to amuse the length of the way: variety of ground is also a characteristic of a riding, when it seems to have proceeded from choice; and pleasure being the pursuit, the changes of the scene both compensate and account for the circuitry.

But a part undistinguished from a common road, succeeding to others more adorned, will by the contrast alone be sometimes agreeable; and there are beauties frequent in the high-way, and almost peculiar to it, which may be very acceptable in a riding: a green lane is always delightful; a palisade winding between thickets of brambles and briars, sometimes with, and sometimes without a little spring-wood rising amongst them, or a cut in a continued sweep through the furze of a down or the fern of a heath, is generally pleasant. Nor will the character be absolutely lost in the interruption, it will soon be refumed, and never forgotten; when it has been once strongly impressed, very slight means will preserve the idea.

Simplicity may prevail the whole length of the way when the way is all naturally pleasant, but especially if it be a communication between several spots, which in character are raised above the rest of the country: A fine open grove is unusual, except in a park or a garden; it has an elegance in the disposition which cannot be attributed to accident, and it seems to require a degree of preservation beyond the care of mere husbandry. A neat railing on the edge of a steep which commands a prospect, alone distinguishes that from other points of view. A building is still more strongly... strongly characteristic: it may be only ornamental, or it may be accommodated to the reception of company; for though a place to alight at interrupts the range of a riding, yet, as the object of an airing, it may often be acceptable. A small spot which may be kept by the labour of one man, inclosed from the fields, and converted into a shrubbery or any other scene of a garden, will sometimes be a pleasant end to a short excursion from home: nothing so effectually extends the idea of a seat to a distance; and not being constantly visited, it will always retain the charms of novelty and variety.

When a riding is carried along a high road, a kind of property may in appearance be claimed even there, by planting on both sides trees equidistant from each other, to give it the air of an approach: regularity intimates the neighbourhood of a mansion. A village therefore seems to be within the domain, if any of the inlets to it are avenues: other formal plantations about it, and still more trivial circumstances, when they are evidently ornamental, sometimes produce and always corroborate such an effect; but even without raising this idea, if the village be remarkable for its beauty, or only for its singularity, a passage through it may be an agreeable incident in a riding.

The same ground which in the fields is no more than rough, often seems to be romantic when it is the site of a village; the buildings and other circumstances mark and aggravate the irregularity. To strengthen this appearance, one cottage may be placed on the edge of a steep, and some winding steps of unhewn stone lead up to the door; another in a hollow, with all its little appurtenances hanging above it. The position of a few trees will sometimes answer the same purpose; a footbridge here and there for a communication between the sides of a narrow dip, will add to the character; and if there be any rills, they may be conducted so as greatly to improve it.

A village which has not these advantages of ground, may, however, be beautiful; it is distinguished by its elegance, when the larger intervals between the houses are filled with open groves, and little clumps are introduced upon other occasions. The church often is, it generally may be, made a picturesque object. Even the cottages may be neat and sometimes grouped with thickets. If the place be watered by a stream, the crossings may be in a variety of pleasing designs; and if a spring rise, or only a well for common use be sunk by the side of the way, a little covering over it may be contrived which shall at the same time be simple and pretty.

There are few villages which may not easily be rendered agreeable. A small alteration in a house will sometimes occasion a great difference in the appearance. By the help of a few trifling plantations, the objects which have a good effect may be shown to advantage, those which have not may be concealed, and such as are similar be disguised. And any form which offends the eye, whether of ground, of trees, or of buildings, may sometimes be broken by the slightest circumstances, by an advanced paling, or only by a bench. Variety and beauty, in such a subject, are rather the effects of attention than expense.

But if the passage through the village cannot be pleasant; if the buildings are all alike, or stand in unmeaning rows and similar situations; if the place furnishes no opportunities to contrast the forms of dwellings with those of out-houses; to introduce trees and thickets; to interpose fields and meadows; to mix farms with cottages; and to place the several objects in different positions; yet on the outside even of such a village there is certainly room for wood; and by that alone the whole may be grouped into a mass, which shall be agreeable when skirted by a riding; and still more so when seen from a distance. The separate farms in the fields, also, by planting some trees about them, or perhaps only by managing those already on the spot, may be made very interesting objects; or if a new one is to be built, beauty may be consulted in the form of the house, and the disposition of its appurtenances. Sometimes a character not their own, as the semblance of a castle or an abbey, may be given to them; they will thereby acquire a degree of consideration, which they cannot otherwise be entitled to; and objects to improve the views are so important to a riding, that buildings must sometimes be erected for that purpose only; but they should be such as by an actual effect adorn or dignify the scene; not those little slight deceptions which are too well known to succeed, and have no merit if they fail: for though a fallacy sometimes contributes to support a character, or suggests ideas to the imagination, yet in itself it may be no improvement of a scene; and a bit of turret, the tip of a spire, and the other ordinary subjects of these frivolous attempts, are so insignificant as objects, that whether they are real or fictitious is almost a matter of indifference.

The same means by which the prospects from a garden are improved, may be applied to those of a garden; though they are not essential to its character, they are important to its beauty; and wherever they abound, the extent only of the range which commands them, determines whether they shall be seen from a riding or a garden. If they belong to the latter, that affluence in some degree the predominant properties of the former, and the two characters approach very near to each other; but still each has its peculiarities. Progress is a prevailing idea in a riding; and the pleasantness of the way is, therefore, a principal consideration; but particular spots are more attended to in a garden; and to them the communications ought to be subordinated; their direction must be generally accommodated, their beauties sometimes sacrificed, to the situation and the character of the scenes they lead to; an advantageous approach to these must be preferred to an agreeable line for the walk; and the circumstances which might otherwise become it are misplaced, if they anticipate the openings: it should sometimes be contrasted to them; be retired and dark if they are splendid or gay, and simple if they are richly adorned. At other times it may burst unexpectedly out upon them; not on account of the surprise, which can have its effect only once; but the impressions are stronger by being sudden; and the contrast is enforced by the quickness of the transition.

In a riding, the scenes are only the amusements of the way, through which it proceeds without stopping; in a garden they are principal; and the subordination of the walk raises their importance. Every art, therefore, should be exerted to make them seem parts of the place. Riding. place. Distant prospects cannot be so; and the alienation does not offend us; we are familiarized to it; the extent forbids every thought of a closer connection; and if a continuation be preferred between them and the points which command them, we are satisfied. But home-views suggest other ideas; they appear to be within our reach: they are not only beautiful in prospect, and we can perceive that the spots are delightful; but we wish to examine, to inhabit, and to enjoy them. Every apparent impediment to that gratification is a disappointment; and when the scenes begin beyond the opening, the consequence of the place is lowered; nothing within it engages our notice: it is an exhibition only of beauties, the property of which does not belong to it; and that idea, though indifferent in a riding, which is but a pallage, is very disadvantageous to such a residence as a garden. To obviate such an idea, the points of view should be made important; the objects within be appendages to those without; the separations be removed or concealed; and large portions of the garden be annexed to the spots which are contiguous to it. The ideal boundary of the place is then carried beyond the scenes which are thus appropriated to it; and the wide circuit in which they lie, and the different positions in which they may be shown, afford a greater variety than can generally be found in any garden, the scenery of which is confined to the inclosure.

Persfield (A) is not a large place; the park contains about 300 acres; and the house stands in the midst of it. On the side of the approach, the inequalities of the ground are gentle, and the plantations pretty; but nothing there is great. On the other side, a beautiful lawn falls precipitately every way into a deep vale which shelves down the middle; the declivities are diversified with clumps and with groves; and a number of large trees straggle along the bottom. This lawn is encompassed with wood; and through the wood are walks, which open beyond it upon those romantic scenes which surround the park, and which are the glory of Persfield. The Wye runs immediately below the wood; the river is of a dirty colour; but the shape of its course is very various, winding first in the form of a horse-shoe, then proceeding in a large sweep to the town of Chepstowe, and afterwards to the Severn. The banks are high hills: in different places steep, bulging out, or hollow on the sides; rounded, flattened, or irregular at top; and covered with wood, or broken by rocks. They are sometimes seen in front; sometimes in perspective; falling back for the pallage, or closing behind the bend of the river; appearing to meet, rising above, or shooting out beyond one another. The wood which incloses the lawn crowns an extensive range of those hills, which overlook all those on the opposite shore, with the country which appears above or between them; and winding themselves as the river winds, their sides, all rich and beautiful, are alternately exhibited; and the point of view in one spot becomes an object to the next.

In many places the principal feature is a continued rock, in length a quarter of a mile, perpendicular, high, and placed upon a height. To resemble ruins is common to rocks; but no ruin of any single structure was ever equal to this enormous pile; it seems to be the remains of a city; and other smaller heaps scattered about appear to be fainter traces of the former extent, and strengthen the similitude. It stretches along the brow which terminates the forest of Dean; the face of it is composed of immense blocks of stone, but not rugged: the top is bare and uneven, but not craggy; and from the foot of it, a declivity, covered with thicket, slopes gently towards the Wye, but in one part is abruptly broken off by a ledge of rocks, of a different hue, and in a different direction. From the grotto it seems to rise immediately over a thick wood, which extends down a hill below the point of view, across the valley through which the Wye flows, and up the opposite banks, hides the river, and continues without interruption to the bottom of the rock: from another seat it is seen by itself without even its base; it faces another, with all its appendages about it; and sometimes the sight of it is partially intercepted by trees, beyond which, at a distance, its long line continues on through all the openings between them.

Another capital object is the castle of Chepstowe, a noble ruin of great extent; advanced to the very edge of a perpendicular rock, and so immediately rivetted into it, that from the top of the battlements down to the river seems but one precipice: the same ivy which overspreads the face of the one, twines and clusters among the fragments of the other; many towers, much of the walls, and large remains of the chapel, are standing. Cloe to it is a most romantic wooden bridge, very ancient, very grotesque, at an extraordinary height above the river, and seeming to abut against the ruins at one end, and some rocky hills at the other. The cattle is so near to the alcove at Persfield, that little circumstances in it may be discerned; from other spots more distant even from the lawn, and from a shrubbery on the side of the lawn, it is distinctly visible, and always beautiful, whether it is seen alone, or with the bridge, with the town, with more or with less of the rich meadows which lie along the banks of the Wye, to its junction three miles off with the Severn. A long sweep of that river also, its red cliffs, and the fine rising country in the counties of Somerset and Gloucester, generally terminate the prospect.

Most of the hills about Persfield are full of rocks; some are intermixed with hanging woods, and either advance a little before them, or retire within them; and are backed, or overhung, or separated by trees. In the walk to the cave, a long succession of them is frequently seen in perspective, all of a dark colour, and with wood in the intervals between them. In other parts the rocks are more wild and uncouth; and sometimes they stand on the tops of the highest hills; at other times down as low as the river; they are home-objects in one spot, and appear only in the back-ground of another.

The woods concur with the rocks to render the scenes of Persfield romantic; the place everywhere abounds with them; they cover the tops of the hills; they hang on the steeps; or they fill the depths of the valleys.

(A) The seat of Mr Morris, near Chepstowe, in Monmouthshire. valleys. In one place they front, in another they rise above, in another they sink below the point of view; they are seen sometimes retiring beyond each other, and darkening as they recede; and sometimes an opening between two is closed by a third at a distance beyond them. A point, called the Lover's Leap, commands a continued surface of the thickest foliage, which over-spreads a vast hollow immediately underneath. Below the Chinese seat the course of the Wye is in the shape of a horse-hoe: it is on one side inclosed by a semicircular hanging wood; the direct steep of a table-hill flut it in on the other; and the great rock fills the interval between them: in the midst of this rude scene lies the peninsula formed by the river, a mile at the least in length, and in the highest state of cultivation: near the isthmus the ground rises considerably, and thence descends in a broken surface, till it flattens to the water's edge at the other extremity. The whole is divided into corn fields and pastures; they are separated by hedges, coppices, and thickets; open clumps and single trees stand out in the meadows; and houses and other buildings, which belong to the farms, are scattered amongst them: nature so cultivated, surrounded by nature so wild, compose a most lovely landscape together.

The communications between these several points are generally by close walks; but the covert ends near the Chinese seat; and a path is afterwards conducted through the upper park to a rustic temple, which overlooks on one side some of the romantic views which have been described, and on the other the cultivated hills and valleys of Monmouthshire. To the rude and magnificent scenes of nature now succeeds a pleasant, fertile, and beautiful country, divided into inclosures, not covered with woods, nor broken by rocks and precipices, but only varied by easy swells and gentle declivities. Yet the prospect is not tame; the hills in it are high; and it is bounded by a vast sweep of the Severn, which is here visible for many miles together, and receives in its course the Wye and the Avon.

From the temple a road leads to the Windleiff, an eminence much above the rest, and commanding the whole in one view. The Wye runs at the foot of the hill; the peninsula lies just below; the deep bosom of the semicircular hanging wood is full in sight; over part of it the great rock appears; all its base, all its accompaniments, are seen; the country immediately beyond it is full of lovely hillocks; and the higher grounds in the counties of Somerset and Gloucester rise in the horizon. The Severn seems to be, as it really is, above Chepstowe, three or four miles wide; below the town it spreads almost to a sea; the county of Monmouth is there the hither shore, and between its beautiful hills appear at a great distance the mountains of Brecknock and Glamorganshire. In extent, in variety, and grandeur, few prospects are equal to this. It comprehends all the noble scenes of Persfield, encompassed by some of the finest country in Britain. See Gardening.