THE AMERICAN GARDEN 



he enjoyed outside of it. But now that we no 

 longer have any mihtary need of privacy we are 

 tempted — are we not ? — to overlook its spir- 

 itual value. We seem to enjoy publicity better. 

 In our American eagerness to publish everything 

 for everybody and to everybody, we have pub- 

 lished our gardens — published them in paper 

 bindings; that is to say, with their boundaries 

 visible only on maps filed with the Registrar of 

 Deeds. 



Foreigners who travel among us complain that 

 we so overdo our good-natured endurance of 

 every public inconvenience that we have made 

 it a national misfortune and are losing our sense 

 of our public rights. This obliteration of private 

 boundaries is an instance. Our public spirit and 

 out imperturbability are flattered by it, but our 

 gardens, except among the rich, have become 

 American by ceasing to be gardens. 



I have a neighbor who every year plants a 

 garden of annuals. He has no fence, but two 

 of his neighbors have each a setter dog. These 

 dogs are rarely confined. One morning I saw 

 him put in the seed of his lovely annuals and 



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