The morning call., 1892-10-10
WHERE TENNYSON Died.
The Dreamy Sunderland Of
AldWorth.
GARDENS THAT ARE TOYS.
a Bit OF the World That No Stranger Could
Enter While the Great Laureate
Was Alive.


may be opened to the stranger.
Time was, however. when none but
friends could pass them, and that is why so
little has been said or written of the spot
where the great laureate breathed his last
only few days ago.
Over here in America, where they use
fences for walls and where quickest hedges
are unknown, the laws of trespass are un-
considered. In bonnie England. on the
other hand, every mans house is his castle,
every mans holding his state, and each Is
guarded jealousy by the owner. BY none
was the rule of jealous proprietorship more
religiously observed than by the poet now
dead.
1t is improbable that within the last de.
cade of years a dozen strangers set foot
within the iron gates of Aldworth.
There are or may be half dozen Aid
worths in England. One of them = the
dr0wSIest and sweetest OF them ali In sum-
mer time-is no on the Thames in Oxford
shire. 1t was there, somewhere out on the
wolds to the westward, that Tennyson,s
mother was born; but so deliciously dull
and unobServant are the villagers that no
man save the parson of the little old church
near by knows aught Of the interesting
circumstance.
away down in Sussex, near Hasemere. At
least one thinks it is Sussex, for 1t is away
down in corner where three or tour coun-
ties come together, and Sussex is assuredly
one OF them.
From away up on the hilltops you can
see over even into the Kentish hills, and in
the autumn time you can tell the hop gar
dens from afar, so square and green they
are You can almost see the gypsies there
in the picking time. at least you may fancy
you can; but there are no gypses at Aid
worth.
Hasiemere is the nearest town, and for
the dreamy sleepiness OF which pastoral
rhymes are best begotten no place can lar
exceed that OF Haslemare. There is an Inn,
where they sell good ale and kindred things,
right across the way from the railroad Sta
ton, and a couple of other inferior caravan
sares up the main street to your left. In
none of these, however, can you gather the
information that is cast in gratis with
two penny shave at the barbel-shOp little
higher up and, indeed, In 1889 1t was the
only reliable public resort whereat one
could CLEAN any definite idea as to the
whereabouts OF the residence Of the lan-
reate. The barber is little old man who
knows nothing about the gentle art OF
painless shaving. but he can tell you to
minute at what hour John. the lame letter.
carrier. will start atoot 10 Aidworth with
the mail, and john is the best guide IN the
district.
Away back in the SOS Russian bullet
at Inkerman put permanent halt in his
gait, but despite this fact and the weight
Of sixty summers he used to tramp four
miles up the hill and four miles down
again every day in the year 10 carry the
mails to Tennyson. One speaks in the
past tense knowingly, for the odds are that
John preceded the poet across the great
divide few years ago.
1t is a slow tramp up the hill to the high
land, but il you glance behind now and
then over the woIds and pastures below the
prettness of the scene makes you forget
your weariness- Then the birds are sing
ing to you all along the way and the smell
of the day coming up from the valley is
sweet, and when you strike in between the
trees and hedges that shut out all the view
old John can hesuiie you with tales OF the
"Crmee" and the "Ro0shuns." In fact
the walk may be made a pleasant stroll,
and when at last you reach the uplands
and the long level lane all sheltered by trees
that leads over the hilltop TO Aldworth
itself you don't feel a bit tired
A modern road, not half so good as the
old beaten paths of centuries that bend
thereto, leads from the end OF the lane to
the black painted gate OF the laureate 5
abode. That gate Is locked against all
corners, but a vigorous pull at the bell Will
summon the lodge-keeper from his little
Fight ma '-e'' ~ 'N'
All around within that entrance, by the
way, the trees rise high and gloomy. The
sunlight never cutters there save in
winter time. when the copper beeches shed
their foliage and the oaks and the ash are
bare. Even then the close branches of the
elms and the frs seem TO hide out half the
light. 1t is always gloomy there; always
three parts dark; and so II is with the
avenue leading TO the house.
The overhanging branches OF giant trees
overshadow it all the way, and not until
yon reach the little green-clad lawn that
begirts the house itself can you steal peep
at the sunshine. Then the scene that pre-
sentS itself Is just about as quaint and OLD
fashioned as we'll such a thing can be, for
everything seems TO have been pruned and
trimmed with scissors.
Over to the right. not twenty yards away,
Is the house of AidwUrth, all 0ld-fashioned
but not a rambling mansion with plenty of
windows and chimneys enough for town
and terraced porch at the hall door.
1t is a striking feature is that porch. 1t
seems to have been built for three houses
instead OF one, but its generous dimensions
lend ceZy air TO the entrance. To the
right and left of it are windows by the
dozen. There are just as many in the
stories above. for in England they like to
have sunshine, and, save at nighttime. the
blinds were never pulled down In the house
where Tennyson lived.
If you remember, he died with the win
dows open and the moonbeams streaming
in on his face. They care less about the
evanescent shades of the carpets than they
do about sunshine and light in old man
sions like that of Aldworth.
Ivy, periwinkle and other creepers elm b
over the lower wall from the flowerbeds be-
meath, and they curl around the angle of
the wall to the right of the dwelling and
seem to mingle with the green shadows Of
the trees and bushes that hem In that side
of the house. On the left wing they do not
run so thickly. but they grow there, all the
same. and the white walls seem all the more
comfortable with those ereepers ciingng all
around them. Save for the ivy and peri
Wrinkle and all that sort of thing the house
is ordinary enough and excessively English
in its makeup; but the lawn about IL is even
more English still, and the gardens that
abut therefr0m are too old-fashioned Tor all
the world.
The lawn Is one of those dark green car
four feet wide, and dotted over with min
iature towerbeds all more or less well SUD-
piled with plants. Here and there are little
bobtail beds about as big as the heads of
beer barrels, and each Of these holds a top
heavy standard rose tree that looks as If it
wanted a peiticoat or something to protect
its stem from the breeze. Then, along all
the little walks there are close-cropped bor-
ders Of dwarf box, only four or five inches
high, that prevents the clay working out on
the gravel.
There are hedges about this lawn-close-
clipped tidy hedges that weasel could lot
squeeze through. and that are like dark green
walls. An arched opening in one Of these
leads into garden, so called; and OF all
the queer little walled-in places conceiv-
able that garden is the straDgest.
1t is all overshadowed by trees, but for
fear Of accidental intrusion 1t Is further
fortified by hedge just the same as the
lawn. Indeed. it Is only gloomy and
miniature reproduction of the lawn proper,
without the broad sweep Of gravel walk