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been interesting, the garden was a hundred
times more so. Of all the gardens I have ever seen that was the most
delightful, the most fascinating. At first you did not realize how big
it was. You never seemed to come to the end of it. When at last you were
quite sure that you had seen it all, you would peer over a hedge, or
turn a corner, or look up some steps, and there was a whole new part you
never expected to find.
    It had everything—everything a garden can have, or ever has had. There
were wide, wide lawns with carved stone seats, green with moss. Over the
lawns hung weeping-willows, and their feathery bough-tips brushed the
velvet grass when they swung with the wind. The old flagged paths had
high, clipped, yew hedges either side of them, so that they looked like
the narrow streets of some old town; and through the hedges, doorways
had been made; and over the doorways were shapes like vases and peacocks
and half-moons all trimmed out of the living trees. There was a lovely
marble fish-pond with golden carp and blue water-lilies in it and big
green frogs. A high brick wall alongside the kitchen garden was all
covered with pink and yellow peaches ripening in the sun. There was a
wonderful great oak, hollow in the trunk, big enough for four men to
hide inside. Many summer-houses there were, too—some of wood and some
of stone; and one of them was full of books to read. In a corner, among
some rocks and ferns, was an outdoor fire-place, where the Doctor used
to fry liver and bacon when he had a notion to take his meals in the
open air. There was a couch as well on which he used to sleep, it seems,
on warm summer nights when the nightingales were singing at their best;
it had wheels on it so it could be moved about under any tree they
sang in. But the thing that fascinated me most of all was a tiny little
tree-house, high up in the top branches of a great elm, with a long rope
ladder leading to it. The Doctor told me he used it for looking at the
moon and the stars through a telescope.
    It was the kind of a garden where you could wander and explore for days
and days—always coming upon something new, always glad to find the old
spots over again. That first time that I saw the Doctor's garden I was
so charmed by it that I felt I would like to live in it—always and
always—and never go outside of it again. For it had everything within
its walls to give happiness, to make living pleasant—to keep the heart
at peace. It was the Garden of Dreams.
    One peculiar thing I noticed immediately I came into it; and that was
what a lot of birds there were about. Every tree seemed to have two
or three nests in it. And heaps of other wild creatures appeared to be
making themselves at home there, too. Stoats and tortoises and dormice
seemed to be quite common, and not in the least shy. Toads of different
colors and sizes hopped about the lawn as though it belonged to them.
Green lizards (which were very rare in Puddleby) sat up on the stones in
the sunlight and blinked at us. Even snakes were to be seen.
    "You need not be afraid of them," said the Doctor, noticing that I
started somewhat when a large black snake wiggled across the path right
in front of us. "These fellows are not poisonous. They do a great deal
of good in keeping down many kinds of garden-pests. I play the flute
to them sometimes in the evening. They love it. Stand right up on their
tails and carry on no end. Funny thing, their taste for music."
    "Why do all these animals come and live here?" I asked. "I never saw a
garden with so many creatures in it."
    "Well, I suppose it's because they get the kind of food they like; and
nobody worries or disturbs them. And then, of course, they know me. And
if they or their children get sick I presume they find it handy to be
living in a doctor's garden—Look! You see that sparrow on the sundial,
swearing at the blackbird down below? Well, he has been coming here
every summer for years. He comes from London. The country sparrows