SCOTTISH GAEDENS 



the cool tint of field-geraniums, which sheeted the 

 railway embankments with purple. 



But Miss Wilson having set up her easel in the 

 angle of land formed by the confluence of Ettrick 

 Water with the Tweed, it was my business to follow 

 and supplement with plodding pen the work of her 

 swift pencil. My goal was Sunderland Hall, the 

 pleasant abode of Mr. Scott Plummer, a modern 

 mansion set in a park of ancient trees, with a 

 garden that looks much older than the house. If 

 it be a merit, and I hold it to be no slight one, 

 that a garden should have a distinct character of 

 its own, that merit may be justly claimed for the 

 garden of Sunderland Hall. It is set upon the steep 

 ground rising abruptly from the north side of the 

 house. Here is none of that tiresome affectation 

 which thrusts the garden proper out of sight and 

 prepares a few formal borders as a set-off to the 

 architect's design. The garden here is part and 

 parcel of the dwelling, a suite of roofless apart- 

 ments as it were, into which you can pass at any 

 moment through a pretty gate of wrought iron, 

 with no more trouble than going upstairs. Upstairs, 

 however, you must go, for, as aforesaid, the ground 

 is very steep, and is cut into a series of terraces, 

 plentifully stocked with choice flowering plants in 

 luxuriant health. The sense of moving through a 

 suite of apartments is confirmed by the solid walls 

 of clipped yew which sub-divide the slope in all 

 directions, and by the carpet-like texture of the 



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