I have grown exceedingly fond of this little place. Did I ever tell you I disliked it? I love it of all things--have taken root completely--could be content to live and die here. To be sure the rooms are of the smallest. I, in our little parlor, look something like a black-bird in a goldfinch’s cage--but it is so snug and comfortable. MARY RUSSELL MITFORD: _Letter to Sir William Elford_, June 21, 1820; in the former’s ‘Life,’ by L’Estrange. * * * * * [Sidenote: The cottage garden.] My little garden is a perfect rosary--the greenest and most blossomy nook that ever the sun shone upon. It is almost shut in by buildings; one a long open shed, very pretty, a sort of a rural arcade, where we sit. On the other side is an old granary, to which we mount by outside wooden steps, also very pretty. Then, there is an opening to a little court, also backed by buildings, but with room enough to let in the sunshine, the north-west sunshine that comes aslant in summer evenings, through and under a large elder tree. One end is closed by our pretty irregular cottage, which, as well as the granary, is covered by cherry trees, vines, roses, jessamine, honeysuckle, and grand spires of hollyhocks. The other is comparatively open, showing over high pales the blue sky and a range of woody hills. All and every part is untrimmed, antique, weather-stained and homely as can be imagined--gratifying the eye by its exceeding picturesqueness, and the mind by the certainty that no pictorial effect was intended--that it owes all its charms to “rare accident.” My father laughs at my passionate love for my little garden--and perhaps you will laugh too; but I assure you it’s a “bonny bit” of earth as ever was crammed full of lilies and roses. MARY RUSSELL MITFORD: _Letter to B. R. Haydon_, in the former’s ‘Life,’ by L’Estrange. * * * * * [Sidenote: Difficulties with plays.]