186 



GARDENS OLD Ah'D 



THE SUNDIAL COURT. 



of another spring. Hence have we the year circle and the dial 

 as the ever-appropriate adornments of our gardens. The green 

 court of smooth-shaven turf at Barrow Court, with the high- 

 pinnacled garden-house, the twin curved flights of steps, and 

 the temple with the splendid vases, is a true poem in stone. 

 '] lie garden architect has worked well, and with force and 

 character that are not t > he gainsaiJ. Look again at the court 

 of the sunJial, with the lofty ball-crowned piers, flanking the 

 segmental stairway to the balu>traded terrace walk, and an 

 ideal garden se:it. Then, once nv re, how sweet and radiant 

 is the iris pond, a veritaMe world of water gardening, with the 

 picturesque dovecote beyond. The kitchen garden entrance 

 is as excellent as the rest. " God gives the increase" is its 



THE HAST COUNT. 



motto and adornment. All is good and beautiful a place 

 where the green turf is the friendly neighbour of the radiant 

 flower-bed, and where tree and shrub are chosen for some 

 specific end and aim. 



There are lessons in such a place, of course, which will 

 suggest themselves to the re der the charm of enclosure, the 

 beauty of appropriatene.>s, the excellence of detail, and the 

 loving care of which the garden gives testimony. It is a garden 

 wherein design has ruled the ere ition and attained the success, 

 with a woodland neighbourh od for its framework. Such sur- 

 roundings are often found in the case of Somerset gardens, lor 

 the shire was a woodland region of old, and is still rich in its 

 greenwood. Lovely coun:ry lies about Barrow Court. The 



beauty of Brockley Lombe was 

 dear to Coleridge, who in one of 

 his wanderings through this 

 country wrote some delightful 

 lines which describe the charms 

 of the region well, and deserve 

 to be quoted : 



"With many a pause and of:-reverted 



eye 

 I climb tile comb's ascent: sv/eet 



songsters near 

 Warble in shade their wild-wood 



melo ly : 

 Far off the unvarying cuckoo 



soo lies my car : 

 Up scour the startled stragglers of 



the flock 

 That on green plots or precipices 



browse: 

 From the deep fissures of the iiak-cl 



rock 

 The yew tree bursts ! lienealh its 



dark green bOUffUl 

 ('Mid which the .May-thorn bl.-nds 



its blossoms white;. 

 Where broadaiuoo.il stonesjut out 



in mossy seats, 

 I rest and now have ga'ued the 



topmost site. 

 All ! what a luxury of landscape 



meets 

 My ga/e! Proud towers, and cots 



more dear to me, 



Blui-sbadowed fields, and pros- 

 pect-bounding sea: 

 Deep sighs my lonely heart: I drop 



a tear ; 



Kntiancing spoil Oh, were my 

 Snra here I " 



