64 ESCAPED FROM GARDENS 



tower, so well does it command a view that 

 spreads endlessly from ridge to ridge, and follows 

 the windings of the valley until that, too, is hill- 

 bound. Sun and river together made a calendar of 

 the seasons for those who looked from the small - 

 paned windows or paused to gaze, as they slowly 

 dipped the heavy sweep to draw water from the 

 hillside well. In late June the sun sets at the 

 northwestern end of the river -valley, sinking slowly 

 between the overhanging trees that appear to screen 

 a doorway opened to it, while by Christmas time it 

 swings back until it seems to rest a moment, be- 

 fore making its sudden winter exit, behind a hill 

 that marks the river's southern limit before it 

 turns easterly to reach the sound. 



I do not know who built the Lilac House, or 

 when or how the people who reared the other 

 stone chimneys that now stand ruined here and 

 there for miles around, by the sides of travelled 

 roads, on crooked byways, or heading blind-lanes, 

 came to live in such lonely places, that even now, 

 in this time of push and traffic, they are on the 

 longest road to nowhere. The fields from which 

 these farmers must have drawn their food, are 

 now occupied by Goldenrod, Joe Pye, and Boneset. 

 The pastures where the cattle grazed fat cattle, 



