kind of bowling-green, sunk
somewhat below the general surface, where in similar beds may be found
the most of those curious old herbs which, for seasoning or salad, or
some use of superstition, were famous in ancient English households. Not
one of them but has its associations. "There's rue for you," to begin
with; we all know who that herb is for ever connected with.

There is marjoram and sage, clary, spearmint, peppermint, salsify,
elecampane, tansy, assafoetida, coriander, angelica, caper spurge,
lamb's lettuce, and sorrel. Mugwort, southernwood, and wormwood are
still to be found in old gardens: they stand here side by side.
Monkshood, horehound, henbane, vervain (good against the spells of
witches), feverfew, dog's mercury, bistort, woad, and so on, all seem
like relics of the days of black-letter books. All the while
greenfinches are singing happily in the trees without the wall.

This is but the briefest resume; for many long summer afternoons would
be needed even to glance at all the wild flowers that bloom in June.
Then you must come once at least a month, from March to September, as
the flowers succeed each other, to read the place aright. It is an index
to every meadow and cornfield, wood, heath, and river in the country,
and by means of the plants of the same species to the flowers of the
world. Therefore, the Herbaceous Ground seems to me a place that should
on no account be passed by. And the next place is the Wilderness--that
is, the Forest.

On the way thither an old-fashioned yew hedge may be seen round about a
vast glasshouse. Outside, on the sward, there are fewer wild flowers
growing wild than might perhaps be expected, owing in some degree, no
doubt, to the frequent mowing, except under the trees, where again the
constant shadow does not suit all. By the ponds, in the midst of trees,
and near the river, there is a little grass, however, left to itself, in
which in June there were some bird's-foot lotus, veronica, hawkweeds,
ox-eye daisy, knapweed, and buttercups. Standing by these ponds, I heard
a cuckoo call, and saw a rook sail over them; there was no other sound
but that of the birds and the merry laugh of children rolling down the
slopes.

The midsummer hum was audible above; the honey-dew glistened on the
leaves of the limes. There is a sense of repose in the mere aspect of
large trees in groups and masses of quiet foliage. Their breadth of form
steadies the roving eye; the rounded slope