ndred luxuries besides, suggested and
contrived by Art to render Nature most enjoyable, and to enhance the
recreative delights of home-out-of-doors--for such a garden should be--,
with least sacrifice of indoor comfort and convenience.

_When Epicurus to the world had taught,
That pleasure was the chiefest good;
--And was perhaps i' th' right, if rightly understood,
His life he to his doctrine brought--
And in his garden's shade that sovereign pleasure sought._[5]

All these delights might once have been enjoyed. But at the time of
which we write, this fair garden was for the most part a waste.
Ill-kept, and unregarded, the gay parterres were disfigured with weeds;
grass grew on the gravel walk; several of the urns were overthrown; the
hour upon the dial was untold; the fountain was choked up, and the
smooth-shaven lawn only rescued, it would seem, from the general fate,
that it might answer the purpose of a bowling-green, as the implements
of that game, scattered about, plainly testified.

Diverging from the garden to the house, we have before remarked that the
more ancient and characteristic features of the place had been, for the
most part, destroyed; less by the hand of time than to suit the tastes
of different proprietors. This, however, was not so observable in the
eastern wing, which overlooked the garden. Here might be discerned many
indications of its antiquity. The strength and solidity of the walls,
which had not been, as elsewhere, masked with brickwork; the low, Tudor
arches; the mullioned bars of the windows--all attested its age. This
wing was occupied by an upper and lower gallery, communicating with
suites of chambers, for the most part deserted, excepting one or two,
which were used as dormitories; and another little room on the
ground-floor, with an oriel window opening upon the lawn, and commanding
the prospect beyond--a favorite resort of the late Sir Piers. The
interior was curious for his honeycomb ceiling, deeply moulded in
plaster, with the arms and alliances of the Rookwoods. In the centre was
the royal blazon of Elizabeth, who had once honored the hall with a
visit during a progress, and whose cipher E. R. was also displayed upon
the immense plate of iron which formed the fire-grate.

To return, for a moment, to the garden, which we linger about as a bee
around a flower. Below the lawn there was another terrace, edged by a
low balustrade of stone, commanding a lovely