To the right of Hill House lay a little bit of wooded ground, part of the original Wildwood Grove,[165] through which a path running diagonally from the road led into one of the avenues for which Hampstead is remarkable, avenues that, like Coleridge’s discourses, to those who could not understand them, ‘start from no premises, and arrive at no definite conclusion,’ though houses have occasionally been adapted to them, like Flitcroft’s Villa, at the end of the fine grove of lime-trees between Branch Hill and Frognal. Wildwood Avenue, as it is called, consists of a row of horse-chestnut-trees on one side, and a stately file of limes on the other. These, with their widely-spreading branches, through which the breeze sends restless lights and shadows, in contrast with the stronger forms and picturesquely-slanting trunks of the horse-chestnuts, which in some instances have taken a half-spiral direction in their efforts to strengthen themselves against the storms of many winters, have been a joy to successive generations of artists and unnumbered lovers of Nature. Wildwood Avenue passes the entrance to North End House,[166] to which I am informed it originally led, and the trees go off by twos and threes upon a little triangular bit of greensward opposite to what used to be, perhaps is still, Wildwood Cottage, a plain, white, weather-boarded house, with red-tiled roof, a rustic rose-covered porch, and with a triplet of limes before it. Of this house there is something more to be said further on. In coming down the avenue we pass on the right hand a paddock belonging to Mr. Gurney Hoare, where in bygone years stood a walnut-tree,[167] to the fruit of which by immemorial custom all the copyholders of Hampstead had a right, a privilege, I am told, that the boys used to take good care should not lapse for want of being annually maintained.