ON THE THEORY OF A GARDEN. 19 



We hinted a moment as^o of the interest that a 

 garden gathers from the mark of man's regard antl 

 tendence ; and if this be true of a modern garden, 

 how much more true of an old one! Indeed, this 

 is undeniable in the latter case, for Time is ever 

 friendly to gardens. Ordinaril)' his attitude towards 

 all that concerns the memories of man is that of 

 a jealous churl. Look at history. What is history 

 but one long record of men who, in this sphere or 

 that, have toiled, striven, sold their souls even, to 

 perpetuate a name and have their deeds written upon 

 the tablets of eternity, not reckoning upon the " all 

 oblivious enmity "' of Time, who, with heedless hand, 

 cuts their past into fragments, blots out their name, 

 confuses their story, and frets with gnawing tooth 

 each vestige of their handiwork. How, then, we 

 ask — 



" How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, 

 Whose action is no stronger than a flower .^ " 



Yet so it is. He who has no respect for antique 

 glories, who snaps his fingers at earth's heroes, who 

 overturns the statues of the laurelled Casars, en- 

 crusts the hieroglyphics of the Pharaohs, and commits 

 their storied masonry to the mercies of the modern 

 Philistine, will make exception in a garden. " Time's 

 pencil" helps a garden. In a garden not only are 

 the solemn shapes and passing conceits of grey 

 epochs treasured up, even to their minutest particu- 

 lars, but the drift of the years, elsewhere so dis- 

 astrous, serves only to heighten their fascination and 

 power of appeal. 



2 B 



