Such a mellow, bright, sweet old wall; what a charming picture it would make, with the lichen creeping here, and the moss growing there, a shy young vine peeping over the top at this spot, to see what is going on upon the busy river, and the sober old ivy clustering a little farther down! There are fifty shades and tints and hues in every ten yards of that old wall.

If I could only draw, and knew how to paint, I could make a lovely sketch of that old wall, I'm sure.
I've often thought I should like to live at Hampton Court.

It looks so peaceful and so quiet, and it is such a dear old place to ramble round in the early morning before many people are about.
But, there, I don't suppose I should really care for it when it came to actual practice.

It would be so ghastly dull and depressing in the evening, when your lamp cast uncanny shadows on the panelled walls, and the echo of distant feet rang through the cold stone corridors, and now drew nearer, and now died away, and all was death-like silence, save the beating of one's own heart.
We are creatures of the sun, we men and women.

We love light and life.
That is why we crowd into the towns and cities, and the country grows more and more deserted every year.