18 A GARDEN DIARY 
at the upper portion of the copse near the house, 
runs somewhat steeply downhill to its lower end. 
Thirdly there is the “long” grass walk, which 
passing first along the last named, is eventually 
to traverse the whole of the lower portion of the 
copse, a distance of some six hundred yards, 
crossing as it does so the region of the tallest 
bracken, emerging for a while upon a gravel 
walk, which skirts the fence of our nursery- 
garden, thence, through another stretch of copse, 
and between two tall heather banks, into a fresh 
tract of birches and sweet chestnuts, till it finally 
attains the gate opening out upon the little com- 
mon at the top. 
One somewhat serious problem underlies these, 
as indeed all similar little enterprises. How far, 
one asks oneself, may the natural conformation 
of any given piece of ground be legitimately modi- 
fied?—the most difficult, in my opinion, of the 
many small problems which confront the gardener. 
The lamentable declivities, the yet more terrible 
acclivities, which abound in a certain type of 
garden we all know; objects calculated to bring 
the blush of embarrassment to all but a hardened 
visitor’s cheek. Like other adornments it is less 
their artificiality than their deplorable lack of Art 
that so distresses us. These indeed are sad 
warnings, and, remembering them, it is well to 
misdoubt our own judgment, and to ask our- 
selves whether it were not better to abstain 
