160 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, June 15, 1858. 
new group on the south side, and farther from tlie 
walk than the beds now placed there, would be more 
telling, just because “relief” would be given alike to 
the mansion and the flowers, whilst tlie background to 
the latter would be equally good. This struck me 
more forcibly during my visit in the middle of last 
month, as the lawn there has already been greatly 
improved, and fine vistas opened up. 
There will be no difficulty in recognising the position 
of the wide, raised walk in front of this west lawn. It 
extends only as far as the width, of the house, there 
being steps at each end to come down to the general 
level. Singular enough, this is not the only instance in 
which such raised terrace-walks, at the distance of from 
thirty to fifty yards from the mansion, are to be found 
in Hertfordshire. Of course, when on the top of the 
walk, you look down on the flower groups on one side 
and on the park on the other, but with a wall and the 
ditch separating you from the latter. What is most 
singular is, that twelve opt of twenty gardeners, and 
six out of ten nurserymen, whom I can recollect speak¬ 
ing of this walk, described it as the finest thing in the 
pleasure grounds. Now, I cannot but look upon this, 
and others so situated, as a great deformity. It might 
just be tolerable, as a work of utility, in a place formed 
out of a swamp. Every foot of elevation thus artifically 
gained, as you stand upon it, just detracts so much 
from the dignity of the mansion. It conjures up the 
idea, that no more proper place could be found for the 
earth, from a ha-ha, than placing it in a mound inside, 
and collecting there all the refuse and foundation 
soil left when the mansion was building. Art and 
labour, according to my conviction, have here been 
employed to constitute, not the elegantly useful, but a 
mere deformity. Of course, my brethren, who look 
upon it as a beauty, have an equal right candidly to 
praise it. 
The massiveness of the mansion, the splendid old 
Oaks in the park, the size of fine old trees and avenues, 
—that only wanted a striking termination to make 
them nobie,—would naturally bring a tremulous 
action to the hearts of most planters, in case they 
should by possibility plant wrong. In the space be¬ 
tween the west lawn referred to, and tlie kitchen 
garden—and around it too—is some fine old timber, 
but chiefly congregated at the sides; so that there 
would have been a fine open space, between the house 
and the kitchen garden, had not the artist chosen this 
very spot for planting a large group of young trees. 
These are now large enough to stand without a fence, 
and to want thinning ; but altogether, their obtrusion 
in such a position broke up the associations about the 
fine old trees. The best thing about that group, was 
; a rough, irregular bordering of furze, which served 
as a contrast to the dressed ground within, and a 
connecting link with the ruins of the mansion of Lord 
i Bacon beyond. With such a park to choose from, it 
was certainly a strange spot on which to fix a large 
! group of young trees, directly in front of the 
mansion. 
Once, when gossiping over these matters with a 
worthy friend, but who has just enough conservatism 
about him always to have a leaning to, and a defence 
for, things that are, he ended his usual advocacy with 
demanding, “ Now what would you do, if you could ?” 
Well, then, I would remove every vestige of that 
raised walk ; I would clear away most, if not all, of 
that group of young trees ; I would remove the fence 
■ from the west side of the lawn, and the east side of 
i the kitchen garden; I would continue the boundary 
j fence, on the noriji and south sides of the intervening 
! space, and thus have pleasure grounds, flower garden, 
and kitchen garden, all inclosed within one boundary ; 
I would take a broad, straight walk, from the front of 
the house, right up to the kitchen garden, and have a 
new and suitable entrance there; and, along the sides 
of that walk, I would have beds of flowers, or 
American plants, backed by rows of Deodars and 
Araucarias. Many of these latter, and other Pines, 
are already growing in the Park. Here they would 
have a more distinct position, and the reason of the 
contrast with the surrounding scenery at once would 
be apparent. 
I have nearly filled the space the editor allows for 
one article, and must pass the kitchen garden, with 
saying there is nothing there to criticise, but much to 
imitate. Large stacks of wood we re near the houses, 
for here timber is so plentiful that it is used for the 
furnaces. The ranges of houses have all been fresh 
glazed and fresh heated, and all—especially a Mus¬ 
cat Grape house—extra luxuriant and fruitful. Mr. 
Bogue has long been a most successful forcer of Straw¬ 
berries. There was a shelf of Queen s looking beau¬ 
tiful, just coming in ; and a magnificent row of Prince 
of Wales, fit to gather. Many of the berries seemed 
from half an ounce to three quarters of an ounce. He 
generally lays first in small pots. He cultivates 
Chrysanthemums with great success, by planting out, 
and repotting in autumn. Large Fuchsias were in full 
bloom in the greenhouse, as well as two of the largest, 
fullest-flowered, immense bushes of Iiollison’s Unique 
Pelargoniums I ever looked at. All crops, in-doors 
and out-of-doors, were looking well. At Mr. Bogue’s 
cottage-door are immense plants, or stools, of Aloysia 
citriodora, which are cut down every winter, andt%ow 
up strong shoots. A very fine plant of Dielytra 
spectahilis was growing on a border near the house. 
But that which we chiefly went to see, was a house filled 
with Calceolarias in fidl bloom. Our readers may judge 
how massive and thick were the flower-trusses, when 
plants, in six-inch pots, had dense heads of bloom from 
two feet and upwards across. I believe Mr. Bogue 
sows in the end of July, and there can be little 
question, as a neighbouring gardener suspected, that 
“ he must feed them on guanor, or something of that 
ere kind.” Chinese Primulas, in four and six-inch 
pots, had also been very fine and strong, as testified by 
their present appearance. Perhaps w T e may get hold 
of more of the minutiae of these matters at another 
time. 
To the historian and the antiquary, the whole de¬ 
mesne and neighbourhood are replete with interest. 
There are the ruins of the mansion of the great Lord 
Bacon, of whom Pope stated that he was— 
“ The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind.” 
Though the anecdote has been often quoted, that in { 
passing to his trial, through his bowing servants, he 
told them to—“ Sit still my Masters, your rise hath | 
been my fall,” there is strong reason for believing, j 
that posterity, with greater light, will judge him more 
leniently and fairly than his compeers, and say he was ! 
not the “ meanest" of mankind. Still, standing by i 
these ruins, one can hardly escape the conviction, 
that mere extraordinary intellectual power can. never 1 
command true greatness, unless when associated 1 
with moral purity and rectitude. On a neighbouring 
height, now embosomed in thriving wood, the remains j 
of the observatory of the great man are yet to bo 
seen. 
On going to St. Albans, you pass the remains of the 
walls of ancient Verulam, from the ruins of which part of 
the Abbey and the oldest buildings in St. Albans were 
built. The name of the town reminds us of the j 
proto-martyr of England, who is supposed to have 
suffered about the year 280. The Abbey is supposed 
to have been built on the spot where Alban suffered, 
in the year 795, by Offa, king of the Mercians; as a 
