An American girl in London . Idare say it would not seem so to you ; but the country as I hadknown it in America had been an expanse of glowing colour,diversified by a striking pattern of snake-fences, relieved bywoods that nobody had ever planted, and adorned by the bare,commanding brick residences of the agricultural , delightful as I found this glimpse of Englishscenery, I could not combat the idea that it had all been care-fully and beautifully made, and was usually kept under cotton-wool. You would understand this if you knew the importantpart played in our rural di
An American girl in London . Idare say it would not seem so to you ; but the country as I hadknown it in America had been an expanse of glowing colour,diversified by a striking pattern of snake-fences, relieved bywoods that nobody had ever planted, and adorned by the bare,commanding brick residences of the agricultural , delightful as I found this glimpse of Englishscenery, I could not combat the idea that it had all been care-fully and beautifully made, and was usually kept under cotton-wool. You would understand this if you knew the importantpart played in our rural districts by the American stump. Isnt it lovely? asked Miss Stacy, with enthusiasm. Twocows in the middle distance suddenly disappeared behind a hay-rick, and for a moment the values of the landscape became con-fused. Still, 1 was able to say that it was lovely, and so neat—which opinion I was obliged to explain to Miss Stacy, as Ihave to you, while the brown pony took us thoughtfully on. 272 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN LONDON XXVI. DROVE in at the gates ofHallington House as onemight drive into the scene ofa dear old dream—a dreamthat one has half-believed andhalf-doubted, and whollyloved, and dreamed againall ones life long. Thereit stood, as I had alwayswondered if I might notsee it standing in thatfar day when I should go toEngland, behind its high brick wall, in the midst of its iviesand laburnums and elms and laurel-bushes, looking across whereits lawns dipped into its river at soft green meadows sloping tothe west—a plain old solid grey stone English country-house solong occupied with the birthdays of other people that it hadquite forgotten its own. Very big and very solid, without anypretentiousness of Mansard roof, or bow window, or balcony, orverandah ; its simple story of strength and shelter and home andhospitality was plain to me between its wide-open gates and itswide-open doors, and I loved it from that moment. It was the same all through—the Stacys realised the En
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