THE AMERICAN GARDEN 



bank on a corner where two rural streets cross. 

 There are a few square yards of lawn on its 

 front, and still fewer (scarcely eight or ten) on 

 the side next the cross-street, but on the other 

 two sides there is nearly a quarter of an acre. 

 On these two sides the limits touch other gar- 

 dens, and all four sides are entirely without 

 fencing. From the front sward have been taken 

 away a number of good shrubs which once broke 

 it into ineffectual bits, and these have been 

 grouped against the inward and outward angles 

 of the house. The front porch is garlanded — 

 not smothered — with vines whose flowers are 

 all white, pink, blue or light purple. About 

 the base of the porch and of all the house's front, 

 bloom flowers of these same delicate tints, the 

 tallest nearest the house, the lesser at their knees 

 and feet. The edges of the beds — gentle waves 

 that never degenerate to straightness — are 

 thickly bordered with mignonette. Not an 

 audacious thing, not a red blossom nor a strong 

 yellow one, nor one broad leaf, nor any mass of 

 dense or dark foliage, comes into view until one 

 reaches a side of the dwelling. But there at 



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