OUR SENTIMENTAL GARDEN 



against the wall, and a strip of turf on the lower level under 

 the house, afforded any relief to the eye. There was a 

 sunk garden beyond which was turfed, and the sense of 

 rest it instantly afforded made one realize what the incom- 

 ing family will suffer on a scorching August day from the 

 glare and refractions of the flags in a space so hemmed in. 

 In the right spirit of garden mania, we were not above 

 taking what hints we could. And some were very good. 

 All the beds on that first level were planted with cool- 

 looking blue and purple flowers a happy thought where 

 there was so much hot stone. And the old cow stables 

 had been very cleverly converted into a most Italian-looking 

 brick pergola which ran the length of the sunk Rose 

 Garden, and ended in a round summer-house with a win- 

 dow. From there, as well as from the Rose Garden, the 

 wide view over the Downs met the gaze. Vividly coloured 

 herbaceous borders ran along the side nearest to the sud- 

 den slope of the hill. There is something very pleasing to 

 the senses when the glance passes from such an ordered 

 kaleidoscope of colour to the misty vastness of a far- 

 reaching view. 



In the middle of the Rose Garden was a sunk fountain in 

 a long narrow basin. 



A batch of pinewood, dark and shady, would have saved 

 the situation ,- one sought everywhere for the comfort of 

 real shadows. 



We went into the house, which was in the act of being 

 papered and painted for the millionaires. Delightful in 

 theory as such old buildings are, we were seized with doubt 

 from the moment of crossing the threshold whether any 

 sense of quaint antiquity would compensate one for beams 

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