very papier-maché-looking stumps, all ready for the duke, "and other
Lords, like Foresters," to do their moralizing upon; and in place of
the poor sequestered stag there is a very fine plushy cow, grazing,
hard by a very agreeable morass. At the back (_L.U.E._) is
discovered a pleasing ruin, the carcass of an ancient farmstead,
whose stony ribs are thickset with brambles; and the pleasant
melancholy of an abandoned orchard rounds off the scene in the
wings, giving a fine place for Rosalind and Celia and the leg-weary
Touchstone to abide their cue.

Choosing the left-hand arm of the X, and moving past wild rose
bushes toward the even richer rose-garden of the sunset, the
fastidious truant is ushered (as was our friend Endymion the other
evening) upon a gentle meadow where a solitary house of white stucco
begs for a poet as occupant. This house, having been selected by
Titania and ourself as a proper abode for Endymion and his family,
we waited until sunset, frogsong, and all the other amenities of
life in Salamis were suitable for the introduction of our guest to
the scene. This dwelling, having long lain untenanted, has a back
door that stands ajar and we piloted the awe-struck lyrist inside.
Now nothing rages so merrily in the blood as the instinct of picking
out houses for other people, houses that you yourself do not have to
live in; and those Realtors whom we have dismayed by our lack of
enthusiasm would have been startled to hear the orotund accents in
which we vouched for that property, sewage, messuage, and all. Here,
we cried, is the front door (facing the sunset) where the postman
will call with checks from your publishers; and here are the
porcelain laundry tubs that will make glad the heart of the
washerwoman (when you can get one).