times, and the laurestinus (_Viburnum tinus_) came from South Europe in the sixteenth century. Parkinson, the most attractive of all the old gardening authors, has a delightfully true description of the “Laurus Tinus,” with its “many small white sweete-smelling flowers thrusting together, ... the edges whereof have a shew of a wash purple or light blush in them; which for the most part fall away without bearing any perfect ripe fruit in our countrey: yet sometimes it hath small black berries, as if they were good, but are not”! Fruit-trees were also to be found--peaches, “nectrons,” cherries, and plums, besides figs and mulberries. That the walls were covered with climbing roses and jessamine is certain, from the oft-recurring cost of nailing them up. “Nails and list for the jessamy wall,” and the needful bits of old felt required to fasten them up, was another time supplied by “hatt parings for the jessamines.” Thus it is easy, bit by bit, out of the old accounts, to piece together the Garden, until the mind’s eye can see back into the days of Queen Anne, and take an imaginary walk through it on a fine spring evening. The Bencher walks out of the large window of the “green-house” on to the terrace, where the sun-dial points the hour: the orange trees, glossy and fresh from their winter quarters, stand in stiff array, in the large artistic pots. Down the steps, a few stiff beds are bright with Dutch bulbs in flower. The turf, well rolled (for a new stone roller has just been purchased), stretches down to the river between straight lines of quaintly cut box, yews, and hollies. He sees Surrey hills clear in the early evening light, and the barges sail by, and boats pass up and down the river. He may linger on one of the seats in the garden-house overlooking the river, or wander back under the stately elms of King’s Bench Walk, to rest awhile in the Privy Garden, where the air is scented with mezereum, and cooled by the drops that fall from the metal leaves hanging over the basin of the fountain.