There, a mile or so away to the south,
situated in the midst of grassy grazing grounds, and flanked on either
side by still perfect towers, frowned the massive gateway of the old
Norman castle. Then, to the west, almost at the foot of Molehill, the
ground broke away in a deep bank clothed with timber, which led the
eye down by slow descents into the beautiful valley of the Ell. Here
the silver river wound its gentle way through lush and poplar-bordered
marshes, where the cattle stand knee-deep in flowers; past quaint
wooden mill-houses, through Boisingham Old Common, windy looking even
now, and brightened here and there with a dash of golden gorse, till
it was lost beneath the picturesque cluster of red-tiled roofs that
marked the ancient town. Look which way he would, the view was lovely,
and equal to any to be found in the Eastern counties, where the
scenery is fine enough in its own way, whatever people may choose to
say to the contrary, whose imaginations are so weak that they require
a mountain and a torrent to excite them into activity.
Behind the house to the north there was no view, and for a good
reason, for here in the very middle of the back garden rose a mound of
large size and curious shape, which completely shut out the landscape.
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