The river banks on each side of the valley were such a mass of gardens that they looked at first like forest， until you got closer and saw the white walls of innumerable houses peeping out from beneath the trees. Soon after that， Shasta noticed a delicious smell of flowers and fruit. About fifteen minutes later they were down among them， plodding on a level road with white walls on each side and trees bending over the walls.
“I say，” said Shasta in an awed voice. “This is a wonderful place！”
“I dare say，” said Bree. “But I wish we were safely through it and out at the other side. Narnia and the North！”
At that moment a low， throbbing noise began which gradually swelled louder and louder till the whole valley seemed to be swaying with it. It was a musical noise， but so strong and solemn as to be a little frightening.
“That’s the horns blowing for the city gates to be open，” said Bree. “We shall be there in a minute. Now， Aravis， do droop your shoulders a bit and step heavier and try to look less like a princess. Try to imagine you‘ve been kicked and cuffed and called names all your life.”