At the pausing-place were rustic fences covered with clematis, 
guarding the unwary from a drop into a deep dell on one side and 
the swampy ground bordering a lake on the other. 
A flight of rustic steps led down into the dell, offering further 
temptation to linger, and it was quite worth while to follow the wind- 
ing of this little valley with the steep rocky banks, tall trees, masses of 
ferns, mossy boulders and wild flowers in their season, such as Anemo- 
nes, Wild Hyacinths, St. John's Wort, Solomon's Seal, Primroses, and 
lovely soft Harebells. 
Each autumn laid a new carpet of leaves, so the "going" was soft, 
and, thanks to the good St. Patrick, no snakes were to be found! 
The place, because of its depth and shade, seemed most remote and 
silent except for the songs of birds, the whisperings of fairies and 
wood sprites, and the occasional scamper of a rabbit or a weazel. 
After a delightful rest one ascended the steps to the level again and 
climbed the last steep stretch of the "Valley Walk," still under tall 
trees, until at last it rejoined the dignified old carriage-drive and ap- 
proached the house with due decorum. 
It was not until there was some trouble with the water supply 
that my relatives thought of mentioning that the "Valley Walk" 
concealed the water pipes which supplied the house from a pumping- 
ram hidden away in another far-off bosky dell. 
Hilda M. -Knott, 
Millbrook Garden Club. 
Garden Living 
Ah me ! the Mallows dead in the garden drear ! 
Ah the green Parsley, the thriving tufts of Dill ! 
These all again shall rise, shall live in the coming year. 
— Moschus. 
This winter morning, I have a beautiful book before me, pictures 
of Gardens in America. Beds of Delphinium and Lilies, Pansies, 
Rhododendrons, Phlox, Hollyhocks against delightful ivy-green 
walls, Roses, Heliotropes, what you will, in the way of flowers. 
Stately managed gardens with clipped evergreens, terraces, 
fountains, steps, and paths; fine vistas of scenery near and distant — 
all that one can imagine as a garden setting. But always one misses 
something. 
In the old steel engravings of "The country-seat of Sir John 
Cominynge, Bart. (County of Wilts.)" Sir John with his Lady and 
her friends, in early Victorian hoop skirts and parasols, were always 
to be seen sitting down or walking about among the trees and the 
