300 THE PRAISE OF GARDENS 



in such a way that it need not be observed — and the blending by 

 unobtrusive gradations of the artificial with the natural. I well 

 remember how skilfully this was done in that 'careless order'd 

 garden ' of the late Laureate, at Freshwater, in the Isle of Wight, 

 where — 



' Groves of pine on either hand, 

 To break the blast of winter, stand ; 

 And farther on, the hoary Channel 

 Tumbles a breaker on chalk and sand.' 



And, curiously enough, the only other garden which I invariably 

 think of in this connection is that of Tennyson's predecessor. 

 However it may be to-day, I know that thirty years ago that 

 which struck me most at Rydal Mount, and which appeared to me 

 its greatest charm, was this union of the garden and the wilderness. 

 You passed almost imperceptibly from the trim parterre to the 

 noble wood, and from the narrow, green vista to that wide sweep 

 of lake and mountain which made up one of the finest landscapes 

 in England. Nor could you doubt that this unusual combination 

 was largely the result of the poet's own care and arrangement. 

 He had the faculty for such work. . . . 



By this time I have got round to the old English flower-bed, 

 where only perennials with an ancient ancestry are allowed to 

 grow. Here there is always delight ; and I should be sorry to 

 exchange its sweet flowers for any number of cartloads of scentless 

 bedding-plants, mechanically arranged and ribbon-bordered. This 

 bed is from fifty to sixty yards long, and three or four yards in 

 width. A thorn hedge divides it from the orchard. In spring 

 the apple-bloom hangs over, and now we see in the background 

 the apples themselves. The plants still in flower are the dark- 

 blue monks hood, which is seven feet high ; the spiked veronica ; 

 the meadow-sweet or queen-of-the-meadow ; the lady's mantle, 

 and the evening primrose. This last may be regarded as the 

 characteristic plant of the season. The flowers open about seven 

 o'clock, and as the twilight deepens, they gleam like pale lamps, 

 and harmonise wonderfully with the colour of the sky. On this 



