76 Woodside. 



To spread into the perfect fan 

 Above the teeming ground ! " 



It must have been a long time ago now, for this tree is an 

 old one, a perfect picture in early spring, when its masses of 

 blossom form an immense nosegay, each blossom with a vivid 

 red islet in its centre, a perfect shelter in summer from the 

 rays of the burning sun. Into the town we pass. Large 

 houses now replace the little cottages with their long front 

 gardens, whilst the little green-shuttered windows on either 

 side of the long straggling street have disappeared to make 

 room for more imposing dwellings. The toll-gate, too, has 

 vanished into the mists of antiquity, but home is reached at 

 last. Here there is no change ; the same cheery faces, the 

 same welcome, the same happy sense of rest, greet us as of 

 yore, and we feel, as we retire to rest, that our day's 

 wanderings fulfil the condition of which the poet speaks 



" Something accomplished, something done, 

 . Has earned a night's repose." 



