Пітер Пен у Кенсінгтонському Саді
The Grand Tour Of The Gardens
Davidwonderswhethertheyknoweachother,nowthattheyaresodifferent,andifitmakesthemfightwiththewrongones.Theyaregreatfighters,andthussounlikecountrysheepthateveryyeartheygivemySt.Bernarddog,Porthos,ashock.Hecanmakeafieldofcountrysheepflybymerelyannouncinghisapproach,butthesetownsheepcometowardhimwithnopromiseofgentleentertainment,andthenalightfromlastyearbreaksuponPorthos.Hecannotwithdignityretreat,buthestopsandlooksabouthimasiflostinadmirationofthescenery,andpresentlyhestrollsawaywithafineindifferenceandaglintatmefromthecornerofhiseye.
TheSerpentinebeginsnearhere.Itisalovelylake,andthereisadrownedforestatthebottomofit.Ifyoupeerovertheedgeyoucanseethetreesallgrowingupsidedown,andtheysaythatatnighttherearealsodrownedstarsinit.Ifso,PeterPanseesthemwhenheissailingacrossthelakeintheThrush’sNest.AsmallpartonlyoftheSerpentineisintheGardens,forsoonitpassesbeneathabridgetofarawaywheretheislandisonwhichallthebirdsarebornthatbecomebabyboysandgirls.Noonewhoishuman,exceptPeterPan(andheisonlyhalfhuman),canlandontheisland,butyoumaywritewhatyouwant(boyorgirl,darkorfair)onapieceofpaper,andthentwistitintotheshapeofaboatandslipitintothewater,anditreachesPeterPan’sislandafterdark.
Weareonthewayhomenow,thoughofcourse,itisallpretencethatwecangotosomanyoftheplacesinoneday.IshouldhavehadtobecarryingDavidlongago,andrestingoneveryseatlikeoldMr.Salford.Thatwaswhatwecalledhim,becausehealwaystalkedtousofalovelyplacecalledSalfordwherehehadbeenborn.
