lots or
lawns, one behind another, were divided by hedges of honeysuckle and
sweet-briar. The grass was long, the flower-borders were borders of
desolation, where crimson paeonies and some other hardy perennials made
the best of it, but the odour of the honeysuckle was luxuriously sweet
in the evening air. And what a place for bowers! The second lawn had
greater things in store for me. There, between two tall elm trees hung
a swing. With a cry of delight I seated myself, seized the ropes, and
gave a vigorous push. But the impetus was strong, and the ropes were
rotten, and I and the swing came to the ground together. This did not
deter me, however, from exploring the third lawn, where I made a
discovery to which that of the swing was as nothing.

"It was not merely that a small path through the shrubbery led me into
a little enclosed piece of ground devoted to those many-shaped,
box-edged little flower-beds characteristic of 'children's
gardens,'--it was not alone that the beds were shaped like letters,
and that there was indisputably an M among them--but they were six in
number. Just one apiece for myself and my brothers and sisters! And
though families of six children are not so very uncommon as to make it
improbable that my father's predecessor should have had the same
number of young ones as himself, the coincidence appeared to my mind
almost supernatural. It really seemed as if some kind old fairy had
conjured up the whole place for our benefit. And--bless the good
godmother!--to crown all, there were two old tea-chests and a
bottomless barrel in the yard.

"Doubtless many causes influenced my father in _his_ leaning towards
Reka Dom, and he did not confide them to me. But I do truly believe
that first and foremost of the attractions was its name. To a real
hearty lover of languages there is a charm in the sight of a strange
character, new words, a yet unknown tongue, which cannot be explained
to those who do not share the taste. And perhaps next to the mystic
attraction of words whose meaning is yet hidden, is to discover traces
of a foreign language in some unexpected and unlikely place. Russian
is not extensively cultivated; my father's knowledge of it was but
slight, and this quiet little water-side town an unlikely place for an
inscription in that language. It was curious, and then interesting,
and then the quaint simple title of the house took his fancy. Besides
this, though he could not but allow that there