^ The ^Afternoon of the Year fj£ 



nor indeed by anyone who came on foot, for the shortest 

 way from the village was through a gate leading from the 

 road to a side door. The path was perfectly straight, and 

 bordered on either side by very broad beds, and except 

 in midwinter they were full of scent and colour. I can 

 see the big bushes of the pale pink China roses and smell 

 their delicate perfume ; I see the tall old-fashioned 

 delphiniums and the big red peonies and the clumps of 

 borage, the sweet-williams, the Madonna and tiger 

 lilies and the well-clipped bushes of lad's love. Before 

 the time of roses I remember chiefly the Canterbury bells 

 and pyrethrums, and earlier still the edge nearest the path 

 was thick with wallflowers and daffodils. I have never 

 seen hollyhocks grow as they grew at the back of those 

 borders, and they were all single ones, ranging from pale 

 yellow to the deepest claret. Beyond this path, on one 

 side was the big lawn with four large and very old mul- 

 berry trees. As a child it frequently struck me that con- 

 sidering how small mulberries were compared to apples, 

 plums and so forth, it was really little short of a miracle 

 what a glorious mess one could get into with them in next 

 to no time. Amongst the flowers great-aunt Lancilla loved 

 most were evening primroses. I have never since then seen 

 a large border, as she had, entirely given to them. She 

 used to pick the flowers to float in finger bowls at dinner. 

 I can see the kitchen garden too, with its long paths 

 and espalier fruit trees and the sweet peas grown in clumps, 

 and they were sweet peas then, for they were deliciously 

 scented. And big clumps of gypsophila and mignonette, 

 which everyone in those days grew to mix with the sweet 

 peas. There were great rows of clove carnations for 

 picking, and never have I smelt any like them. Nor have 



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