It had not the grotesque formality of the Dutch style which came over with William of Orange--the prim beds with here and there patches and narrow walks of red, flat bricks, the box trees cut and trimmed in the form of peacocks with outstretched tails, animals, anything absurd that the designer fancied.

Close to the river bank drooped a willow, and a wide spreading cedar overspread a portion of the lawn.
Underneath the cedar four men were sitting round a table strewn with papers.

Lavinia easily recognised the portly form of her patron, Gay.
Next to him was a diminutive man, his face overspread by the pallor of ill-health.

He was sitting stiff and bolt upright and upon his head in place of a fashionable flowing wig was a sort of loose cap.
"That must be Mr.Pope, the queer little gentleman the countryman told me of," thought Lavinia.
She saw the servant in a deferential attitude standing for some time between Mr.Pope and Mr.Gay waiting for an opportunity to announce his errand.

For the moment the discussion was too absorbing for anyone of the four to pay attention to the man.
"Mr.Rich no high opinion has of either music or musicians," said one of the disputants, a lean, dried-up looking man who spoke with a strong guttural accent.