1 6 EVERSLEY GARDENS 



turned into pillars of quivering gold-dust 

 against the blue mountain wall towards the 

 Grande Chartreuse. It was a vision of wonder 

 that has never faded in nigh upon thirty long 

 years ; and though I loved Lombardy Poplars 

 from my childhood, since that moment they 

 have been invested with a sense of mysterious 

 beauty that makes one understand why primi- 

 tive man worshipped trees as well as serpents. 



Thus, on these beginnings, humble and 

 simple as they seem, the garden has grown, 

 and still is growing ; for why should it ever 

 be finished ? Here a bush, and there a tree 

 many of them gifts from old friends and new 

 have been planted where they will add to 

 effect or shelter. At first it seemed so strange 

 to think that I could do exactly what I liked 

 with my own, that at times one was stricken 

 with a queer sense of paralysis of will and 

 energy, a sort of counterpart of the Puritan con- 

 science that torments itself and stultifies action 

 in foolish questionings as to whether such 

 and such a perfectly innocent thing is right or 

 wrong. Then gradually one awoke to the 



