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Landscape Gardening 



Neither do we look upon grass at the present moment 

 with the eyes of our friend Tom Thrifty, the farmer, who 

 cuts "three tons to the acre." We have in our present 

 mood no patience with the tall and gigantic fodder, by this 

 name, that grows in the fertile bottoms of the West, so tall 

 that the largest Durham is lost to view while walking 

 through it. 



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FIG. 41. A WELL-MOULDED LAWN 



No, we love most the soft turf which, beneath the flicker- 

 ing shadows of scattered trees, is thrown like a smooth 

 natural carpet over the swelling outline of the smiling earth. 

 Grass, not grown into tall meadows, or wild bog tussocks, 

 but softened and refined by the frequent touches of the 

 patient mower, till at last it becomes a perfect wonder of 

 tufted freshness and verdure. Such grass, in short, as 

 Shakespeare had in his mind, when he said, in words since 

 echoed ten thousand times, 



"How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon that bank;" 



