There is much monotony in the laying out of all these parks. The undulating green turf with a wavy line of bushes seems the only recognised form. A narrow strip of herbaceous plants is put between the smutty bushes and well-mown turf, and the official park flower-border is produced. Curving lines of uncertain direction, tortuous paths that carefully avoid the straight line, are all part of the generally received idea of a correct outline. It is always more easy to criticise than to suggest, but surely more variety would be achieved if parks were planted really like wild gardens--the groups of plants more as they might occur in a natural glade or woodland. Then let the herbaceous border be a thing apart--a garden, straight and formal, or curved and round, but not always in bays and promontories jutting into seas of undulating green. A straight line occasionally is a great rest to the eye, but it should begin and end at a definite and tangible point. The small Park in Camberwell has a little avenue of limes running straight across, with a centre where seats can be put and paths diverge at right angles. It is quite small, and yet the Park would be exactly like every other piece of ground, with no particular design, without this. It gives a point and centre to the meandering paths, and comes as a distinct relief. In Southwark Park an avenue is growing up into fairly large trees. It seems stuck on to the Park--it is not straight, but it is not a definite curve, and it ends somehow by turning towards the entrance at one end and twisting in the direction of the pond at the other. So it remains a shady walk, but not an avenue with any pretension to forming part of a design. It is not for the formal only this appeal is made, it is for less formality and more real wildness, also a protest against the monotony of the green banks, and bunches of bushes, and meaningless curves, too often the only form of design. The aim in every case must be to have as much variety as possible without incongruity, and to make the utmost use of the ground; to give the most pleasure at the least expense. One of the great difficulties must always be the numbers of people who enjoy these parks. The grass suffers to such an extent that portions must be periodically enclosed to recover. Then the children have to be kept at a certain distance from the flowers, or the temptation to gather one over-masters the fear of the park-keeper. A green walk between trees would be a pleasing change from gravel and asphalt in a less-frequented part of some park, but it would doubtless have to be closed in sections, or there would soon be no turf left; but such an experiment might well be tried. The attempts in Brockwell, Golder’s Hill, and Ravenscourt at “old English gardens” are most successful, and a welcome change in the monotony, and one has only to look at the crowded seats to see how much they are appreciated.