but it has been greatly added to and improved
during recent years. The lofty, spacious entrance-
hall, laid down with parquet, branches out into five
reception rooms, opening one into another, all facing
south, and overlooking some seven-hundred-and-fifty
feet of lawni, bordered by a lake formed of clear,
running water, the overflow of a spring which is a
hundred-and-fifty feet deep, and has never yet been
known to run dry. This is, in its turn, bounded by
a shrubbery, which leads round to one of the principal
features of the Cranbrooke Gardens, the "Lovers'
Walk," an ivy colonnade, carpeted with thick, soft
moss.
Passing through the ante-room, a door opens on the left, and the picture which presents itself to the eye is a thoroughly domestic one. A huge fire, heaped with acacia logs, blazes brightly in the low deep grate, flanked with brass dogs; tall standard lamps shed a soft light over a merry family group; a silver urn stands on the cosy five o'clock tea table, where a young, fair girl presides, A few guests are present, and two younger daughters of the house are flitting in and out with plates of Scotch scones, cakes, and muffins. The three nursery little ones have come down to say good-night; the youngest, a fair-haired, blue-eyed little maiden of four years, is nestling on her mother's lap. Rising from amidst them, Mrs. Walford comes forward to welcome you. She wears a pretty steel-blue tea-gown, richly embroidered in silks by her own hand; for your hostess loves needlework, and looks on it as a great resource for a weary brain. She has a
