THE CHARM OF GARDENS 



wig, his wide skirted coat, and sees the fairies too. He 

 begins : 



Where Kensington high o'er the neighb'ring lands 

 'Midst greens and sweets, a regal fabric stands, 

 And sees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers, 

 A snow of blossoms, and a wild of flowers, 

 The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair 

 To groves and lawns, and unpolluted air. 

 Here, while the town in damps and darkness lies, 

 They breathe in sunshine, and see azure skies ; 

 Each walk, with robes of various dyes bespread, 

 Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed, 

 Where rich biscades and glossy damasks glow, 

 And chints, the rival of the show'ry bow. 



Their midnight pranks the sprightly fairies play'd 

 On every hill, and danced in every shade. 

 But, foes to sunshine, most they took delight 

 In dells and dales conceal'd from human sight : 

 There hew'd their houses in the arching rock ; 

 Or scoop'd the bosom of the blasted oak ; 



There is no doubt about it that these are the very same 

 fairies who are still at work in the Gardens, and who have 

 admitted Mr. Barrie into their confidence. All gardens 

 have ghosts, and Kensington Gardens, I think, more 

 ghosts than any other. What a club it must be to be- 

 long to, to visit when all London is asleep. Here's Mr. 

 Tickell with his version of the Peter Pan story : 



No mortal enter'd, those alone who came 

 Stolen from the couch of some terrestrial dame 

 For oft of babes they robb'd the matron's bed. 



But beyond these, the vaguest hints, Mr. Tickell does 

 not carry. His story has no likeness to the immortal 

 tale of Peter Pan, but has, in common with it, the same 

 knowledge that there are fairies in the Gardens living 

 just as both he and Mr. Barrie know so well under the 



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