THE OLDEN FARM 



A WICKET-GATE in an arch of the stone wall admits 

 us to the curtilage. On one side the velvet of the 

 lawn runs up the grey walls of a Tudoresque mansion ; 

 on the other an opening in a hedge of yew gives 

 a glimpse of parallelograms of kitchen-garden, with 

 masses of sweet-smelling wallflowers and espalier 

 lattices of apple trees and long rows of celery. 

 White fantail pigeons strut on the broad gravel walk 

 at our feet, and a tortoise-shell cat, with broad white 

 bosom, blinks at us from a sunny window-sill. The 

 porch is as large as the average suburban sitting- 

 room, and would scarcely disgrace a country church. 

 It keeps the weather from an oaken front door, and 

 that admits us to a hall and oak-balustraded stair- 

 case, that, except that it is obviously all its own, 

 might be a copy of Haddon Hall. Through cool, 

 sweet passages that seem to have just done echoing 

 to the whisper of sandalled feet we reach the 

 living-room, probably twenty-four feet long and 

 sixteen wide, with ceiling half as high again as it 

 is in most modern houses. We have seen such 

 proportions in modern houses in Holland, but rarely 

 in England. The walls are panelled in oak, and 

 the ceiling striped with oaken beams. 

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