CHAPTER XIII. 



THE LAWN. 



"Whether we look, or whether we listen, 

 We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; 

 Every clod feels a stir of might, 



An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 

 And, groping blindly above it for light, 

 Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers." 



LOWELL. 



"On each side shrinks the bowery shade, 

 Before me spreads an emerald glade ; 

 The sunshine steeps its grass and moss, 

 That couch my footsteps as I cross." 



ALFRED B. STREET. 



A SMOOTH, closely shaven surface of grass is by far the 

 most essential element of beauty on the grounds of a 

 suburban home. Dwellings, all the rooms of which 

 may be filled with elegant furniture, but with rough uncarpeted 

 floors, are no more incongruous, or in ruder taste, than the shrub 

 and tree and flower-sprinkled yards of most home-grounds, where 

 shrubs and flowers mingle in confusion with tall grass, or ill-defined 



