THE RECTORY GARDEN 265 



were a source of trouble to us ; for whether 

 we planted the white or the blue, in a couple 

 of years they had turned to a dull reddish 

 maroon, and though they " would smell as 

 sweet" they were far less lovely; while just 

 over the hedge, in the bit of field my father 

 took in as a " spade farm," the Violets remained 

 blue, and in the churchyard were always purest 

 white. 



It is no wonder that when my father went 

 to Eversley in 1842, spending the first six 

 weeks of his life as curate of Eversley in 

 the Rectory house, he was charmed with 

 the view from the windows of the lawn and 

 the glebe field. On July 14, eighteen months 

 before his marriage, he sent my mother a 

 slight pencil sketch, saying, " I am no 

 drawer of trees, but the view is beautiful. 

 The ground slopes upwards from the win- 

 dows to a sunk fence and road, without banks 

 or hedges, and then rises in the furze hill in 

 the drawing, which hill is beautiful in light 

 and shade, and colour. . . . Behind the 

 acacia on the lawn you get' the first glimpse 



