ront by a
huge black stack of turf on one side of the door, while on the other the
family dunghill ascended in noble emulation.

About a bowshot from the end of the village appeared the inclosures
proudly denominated the Parks of Tully-Veolan, being certain square
fields, surrounded and divided by stone walls five feet in height. In the
centre of the exterior barrier was the upper gate of the avenue, opening
under an archway, battlemented on the top, and adorned with two large
weather-beaten mutilated masses of upright stone, which, if the tradition
of the hamlet could be trusted, had once represented, at least had been
once designed to represent, two rampant Bears, the supporters of the
family of Bradwardine. This avenue was straight and of moderate length,
running between a double row of very ancient horse-chestnuts, planted
alternately with sycamores, which rose to such huge height, and nourished
so luxuriantly, that their boughs completely over-arched the broad road
beneath. Beyond these venerable ranks, and running parallel to them, were
two high walls, of apparently the like antiquity, overgrown with ivy,
honeysuckle, and other climbing plants. The avenue seemed very little
trodden, and chiefly by foot-passengers; so that being very broad, and
enjoying a constant shade, it was clothed with grass of a deep and rich
verdure, excepting where a foot-path, worn by occasional passengers,
tracked with a natural sweep the way from the upper to the lower gate.
This nether portal, like the former, opened in front of a wall ornamented
with some rude sculpture, with battlements on the top, over which were
seen, half-hidden by the trees of the avenue, the high steep roofs and
narrow gables of the mansion, with lines indented into steps, and corners
decorated with small turrets. One of the folding leaves of the lower gate
was open, and as the sun shone full into the court behind, a long line of
brilliancy was flung upon the aperture up the dark and gloomy avenue. It
was one of those effects which a painter loves to represent, and mingled
well with the struggling light which found its way between the boughs of
the shady arch that vaulted the broad green alley.

The solitude and repose of the whole scene seemed almost monastic; and
Waverley, who had given his horse to his servant on entering the first
gate, walked slowly down the avenue, enjoying the grateful and cooling
shade, and so much pleased with the placid ideas of