T. JAMES 283 



' Broider the ground 



With rich inlay.' ^ 



But you must leave this mass of gorgeous colouring and the two 

 pretty fountains that play in their basins of native rock, while you 

 descend the flight of steps, simpler than those of the upper 

 terrace, and turn to the left hand, where a broad gravel walk 

 will lead you to the kitchen-garden, through an avenue splendid 

 in autumn with hollyhocks, dahlias, China asters, nasturtians, 

 and African marigolds. 



We will stop short of the walled garden to turn among the 

 dipt hedges of box, and yew, and hornbeam which surround 

 the bowling-green, and lead to a curiously formed labyrinth, in 

 the centre of which, perched up on a triangular mound, is a 

 fanciful old summer-house, with a gilded roof, that commands 

 the view of the whole surrounding country. Quaint devices of 

 all kinds are found here. Here is a sun-dial of flowers, arranged 

 according to the time of day at which they open and close. 

 Here are peacocks and lions in livery of Lincoln green. Here 

 are berceaux and arbours, and covered alleys, and enclosures 

 containing the primest of the carnations and cloves in set order, 

 and miniature canals that carry down a stream of pure water to 

 the fish-ponds below. Further onwards, and up the south bank, 

 verging towards the house, are espaliers and standards of the 

 choicest fruit-trees ; here are strawberry-beds raised so as to be 

 easy for gathering; while the round gooseberry and currant 

 bushes, and the arched raspberries continue the formal style up 

 the walls of the enclosed garden, whose outer sides are clothed 

 alternately with fruit and flowers, so that the ' stranger within the 

 house' may be satisfied, without being tantalized by the rich 

 reserves within the gate of iron tracery of which the head 

 gardener keeps the key. 



Return to the steps of the lower terrace : what a fine slope 

 of green pasture loses itself in the thorn, hazel, and holly thicket 

 below, while the silver thread of the running brook here and 



^ ' Tot fuerant illic, quot habet natura, colores : 

 Pictaque dissimili flore nitebat humus.' — Ovid. 



