It was inconceivable how so many painted
figures, in such a variety of attitudes, could have been designed and
executed; but there they were, the great glory of the old gardener, and
the endless amusement of the peasants of the neighbourhood, who were
allowed to walk there on the summer Sunday evenings.
The gardens of Durbelliere were also wonderful in another respect. It
was supposed to be impossible to consume, or even to gather, all the
cherries which they produced in the early summer. The trees between the
walks were all cherry-trees--old standard trees of a variety of sorts;
but they all bore fruit of some description or another, some sweet and
some bitter; some large, some small, and some perfectly diminutive; some
black, some red, and some white. Every species of known cherry was in
that garden in abundance; but even the gardener himself did not know the
extent of the produce. Birds of all kinds flocked there in enormous
numbers, and banqueted gloriously during the summer. No one disturbed
them except the painted sportsman; and the song of the linnet and the
thrush was heard all day, and that of the nightingale during the night.
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