-LSB- Illustration : Porthos -RSB- The Serpentine begins near here . It is a lovely lake , and there is a drowned forest at the bottom of it . If you peer over the edge you can see the trees all growing upside down , and they say that at night there are also drowned stars in it . If so , Peter Pan sees them when he is sailing across the lake in the Thrush 's Nest . A small part only of the Serpentine is in the Gardens , for soon it passes beneath a bridge to far away where the island is on which all the birds are born that become baby boys and girls . No one who is human , except Peter Pan -LRB- and he is only half human -RRB- , can land on the island , but you may write what you want -LRB- boy or girl , dark or fair -RRB- on a piece of paper , and then twist it into the shape of a boat and slip it into the water , and it reaches Peter Pan 's island after dark . -LSB- Illustration : One of the Paths that have Made Themselves -RSB- We are on the way home now , though of course , it is all pretence that we can go to so many of the places in one day . I should have had to be carrying David long ago , and resting on every seat like old Mr. Salford . That was what we called him , because he always talked to us of a lovely place called Salford where he had been born . He was a crab-apple of an old gentleman who wandered all day in the Gardens from seat to seat trying to fall in with somebody who was acquainted with the town of Salford , and when we had known him for a year or more we actually did meet another aged solitary who had once spent Saturday to Monday in Salford . He was meek and timid , and carried his address inside his hat , and whatever part of London he was in search of he always went to Westminster Abbey first as a starting-point . Him we carried in triumph to our other friend , with the story of that Saturday to Monday , and never shall I forget the gloating joy with which Mr. Salford leapt at him . They have been cronies ever since , and I notice that Mr. Salford , who naturally does most of the talking , keeps tight grip of the other old man 's coat . -LSB- Illustration : Old Mr. Salford was a crab-apple of an old gentleman who wandered all day in the Gardens -RSB- -LSB- Illustration : Away he flew , right over the houses to the Gardens -RSB- The two last places before you come to our gate are the Dogs ' Cemetery and the chaffinch 's nest , but we pretend not to know what the Dogs ' Cemetery is , as Porthos is always with us . The nest is very sad . It is quite white , and the way we found it was wonderful . We were having another look among the bushes for David 's lost worsted ball , and instead of the ball we found a lovely nest made of the worsted , and containing four eggs , with scratches on them very like David 's handwriting , so we think they must have been the mother 's love-letters to the little ones inside . Every day we were in the Gardens we paid a call at the nest , taking care that no cruel boy should see us , and we dropped crumbs , and soon the bird knew us as friends , and sat in the nest looking at us kindly with her shoulders hunched up . But one day when we went there were only two eggs in the nest , and the next time there were none . The saddest part of it was that the poor little chaffinch fluttered about the bushes , looking so reproachfully at us that we knew she thought we had done it ; and though David tried to explain to her , it was so long since he had spoken the bird language that I fear she did not understand .
He and I left the XXXXX that day with our knuckles in our eyes .
Gardens Pan Salford Thrush chaffinch crumbs love-letters night right year