every body is surprised to see how snug we are; and that nobody can
suspect so many temples, and groves, and terraces, and ascents, and
descents, and clumps, and shrubberies, and vistas, and glades, and
dells, and canals, and statues, and rocks, and ruins are in existence,
till they are in the very midst of them. And then! Oh how have I
enjoyed their admiration! Nothing is so great a pleasure to me as to
bring a gentleman of taste, who knows how to be struck with what he
sees, and set him down in the middle of one of my great gravel walks!
For all the world allows, Abimelech, that our gravel walks at
Wenbourne-Hill are some of the broadest, the straightest, and the
finest in the kingdom.

Yet observe how men differ, Abimelech. Sir Alexander wants me to turf
them over! He says that, where you may have the smooth verdure, gravel
walks are ridiculous; and are only tolerable in common pathways, where
continual treading would wear away the greensward. But I know what has
given him such a love for the soft grass. Sir Alexander is gouty, and
loves to tread on velvet.

Beside he is a cynic. He blames all we have done, and says he would
render one of the deserts of Arabia the garden of Eden, with the money
we have wasted in improving Wenbourne-Hill; which he affirms, before we
touched it, was one of the most beautiful spots in the three kingdoms.

I confess, Aby, that, if as I said I did not know him to be a cynic, I
should be heartily vexed. But it either is, or at any rate it shall be,
one of the most beautiful spots in the three kingdoms, ay or in the
whole world! Of that I am resolved; so go on with your work, Abimelech.
Do not be idle. The love of fame is a noble passion; and the name of
Arthur St. Ives shall be remembered at Wenbourne-Hill, long after his