the colours. Hard luck to work like that for hundreds of
years, and never succeed!

At last Emily has seen the Glastonbury Thorn, and obtained her slip, as
an exceptional favour. She longs for Christmas to come, to know if it
will bloom, as it does regularly every year in the gardens of the
Bishop's palace.

Until now I couldn't have imagined envying a bishop, but to live in the
palace at Wells, and own the palace gardens for life, would be worth a
few sacrifices. I should think there could have been never a more
poetical or charming garden on earth--not excepting Eden or a few Indian
gardens I have admired. It is perfect; as Ellaline says, even
pluperfect, in its contrast with the gray ruins, and the mellow, ancient
house. There is an embattled wall, which makes a terrace walk, above the
fair lawns and jewelled flower beds, and from the top as you walk, the
hills girdling the old city go waving in gradations of blue to an opal
horizon. There's an old Well House in the garden, which is one of its
chief ornaments, and has adorned it since the fifteenth century. Bishop
Beckington--the Beckington of the punning rebus (Beacon and Tun) built
it to supply water to the city. But there were plenty of other springs,
always--seven famous ones--which suggested the name, Wells; and had they
not existed, perhaps King Ina (who flourished in the eighth century, and
was mixed up in Glastonbury history) would not have founded a cathedral
here. Blessed be the seven wells, then, for without them one of the
fairest places in England might never have existed.

I had heard of the celebrated swans, and as I knew she would like them,
I determined to pay the birds a morning call (the day after we arrived)
with Ellaline. From any obtrusion of Emily's I felt safe, for her mind
whirls here with old oak carvings, Flaxman sculptures, ancient
vestments, carven tombs, and, above all, choral services. Indeed, Emily
is never at her best except in a cathedral; and I knew that swans would
not be ecclesiastic enough to please her. But of Mrs. Senter and Dick I
had to be more wary; for the lady, no doubt because she is my guest,
feels it polite to give me a good deal of her society; and Dick
naturally considers that Ellaline's time is wasted on me, especially
when he isn't by to alleviate the boredom.

My one chance was to lure the girl out early, for neither Mrs. Senter
nor Burden loves the first morning hours. With all the guilty tremors of
one who c