THE STORY OF A GARDEN 1 35 



with a motive, and it was in the mak- 

 ing that it came to win a soul, for the 

 man's spirit grew so calm and strong 

 that it gave its overplus to what it 

 wrought. 



The garden's growth was nowhere 

 warped or stunted by tradition; there 

 was no touch of custom's bondage to 

 urge this or that. No rudeness had 

 despoiled its primal wildness, and 

 lovers, who had trodden paths under 

 the trees, were its sole discoverers. It 

 was rock-fenced and brier-guarded; the 

 sharp shadows of the cedars dialed the 

 hours, and the ground-pine felt its 

 darkened way beneath them with grop- 

 ing fingers. 



This happened before I was, but 

 hearing of it often, sound has imparted 

 its sense to sight, and it all seems 

 visual. With my first consciousness, 

 the days were filled with planting and 



