"RURAL" LONDON

Evening Post, Volume CXVII, Issue 52, 2 March 1934, Page 5

"RURAL" LONDON

CITY OF PARKS

A MORWING STROLL

There is a "silenc way" in the midst.of London, gracious in its sylvan ■ beauty and floral adornment. It is the famous "country walk" from Trafalgar Square to Kensington Palace,,through St. James's Park, the Green Park, Hyde Park, and Kensington Gardens, by a route which, except for a street crossing near Buckingham Palace and the Wellington Monument, strays along leafy avenues, past lilystrewn lakes, and by flower beds aud lawns for three long miles. la the dim distance, shut out by the soft foliage of trees, roars the greatest city in the -world. But the roar does not worry-the happy wanderer. It is but a vague obbligato to the twitterings and the songs of birds in the branehgs above arid round-about. To take this stroll during the spring, summer, or autumn is to forget the noisy streets and bustling squares only a few hundred yards away, writes the *' Sydney, Morning Herald's-" London correspondent. It is to taste the pnre air and scenic delights of the country. To take'it in winter is to find exhilaration in a misty atmosphere tinted with blue and grey, and the cries of hungry • gulls anxious to eat from any friendly .hand. Each season imparts its peculiar charm to the walk; each has its special offerings. And sometimes, to make the picture more convincing, one will come upon a flock of sheep with their attendant shepherd, the animals feeding quietly while their guardian, dozes, perhaps, in the shade of a tree. These sheep do not roam in the heart of London for nothing. Their ''job" is to "keep the grass down" in places where the mower never penetrates—the less precious spots which lay no claim to be distinguished as lawns... . . ■ Let upstart, say, one brilliant morning in spring, when tbe air is like cham-pague-aud'tbe sun shines from a cloudless sky (such days were common enough, last year, so one does not out- ■ rage the credulity of Australians in remarking that England has its brilliant I mornings). On a morning like that, then, there is nothing more fascinating than'a country ramble through London. Entering the beautiful gate of St. James's Park, near the Admiralty Areb in the1 Mall, we wander slowly down-a patch bordered by lawn, flowers, and stately trees to a little bridge, spanning the lake. As like as not we will pause there to feed the swans and ducks and admire ■ the view towards Whitehall, 'looking. like a fantastic aggregation of fairy palaces. Once across, we continue by the shores of tbe lake to* a gate opposite Buckingham Palace, ■where we cross the Mall into Green Park.. PAKADISE WITHOUT FLOWERS. .Here we. see no flowers. We see, instead, the vernal glory ■of trees and grass, in a truly rural setting of hillocks and valleys. • After the vivid contrasts. of St. James's Park, ablaze with blooms, it is restful and cool. More than ever, we are reminded of a country landscape such as might meet the eye in. a corner of. Sussex. Mora than ever it seems unbelievable that we are in., the: very centre of London. Passing a purling fountain,.near where, we rest, perchance, for a few minutes, wo at length find ourselves at an exit facing the traffic maelstrom of Hyde Park Corner.. A moment or two of tho stark reality, and lo! here .we are through the colonnaded entrance of Hyde' Park, the most majestic, though not the loveliestj of, the,'cityfs; "open spaces." Keeping Eotten Bow, alive with riders young ;ana old ; on our left, we pursue our. progress in, & diagonal -. direction towards "The Dell," where everything that the gardener can do to create a place of beauty • seems to have been done. Then, bearing to the left, we come to the-eastern bank: of the Serpentine on the broad bosom of which a score of, rowing-boats will probably„be gliding* iater in... the year hundreds ,of/London's youth will, be swimming in these very waters,- .to the infinite disgust of its feathered denizens. But as-this-.is only the spring, "Uncle Lansbury's Lido" is still-deserted, except' by- those who are • preparing it for .the throngs to come. . ■ Soon we-findyourselves through .the boundary .fence and in Kensington Gardens, >the culmination of gentle loveliness and fresh charm. Only a poet could ■adequately sing the praises of these gardens and describe the wonder of their vistas,- their avenues, their blooms, and their terraces. "We sing themanwardly as we.pause tosmile at Framptonfs'ageless statue of Peter Pan (expressing the very spirit of childhood), saunter by the Round Pond, and down the -Broad Walk, gaze at the canopy of stately limes-over the Cradle Walk, and, at>last, sit by-the old Dutch Cajden- fronting the historic Palace jof 'Kensington. / -.We: are -the more . contented to sit here because pur walk;.is ended;' We haye^ passed'tothe borderline- between, the'"country" arid London, and' are not in a hurry iiter such a'delightful experience •to deliver ourselves into the grasp of the ravening city beyond. ;We might- search- for many a long day'.befor^ finding a resting place so agreeable.