CHAPTER X. 



GRANDMOTHER'S GARDEN. 



URINGr early boyhood, I paid long 

 visits at the home of a dear old 

 grandmother, in one of the most 

 thoroughly crystallized towns of 

 New England. Grandmother was 

 a Quaker of the old school, and 

 a pillar of the meeting, conse- 

 quently everything about her was 



of the approved old-time sort. The garden, certainly, was 

 no exception to the rule. I think I see now, the sober, 

 dignified Quaker ladies, attired in suitable dove-color, pacing 

 the garden walks or daintily plucking flowers. Surely finer 

 flowers never grew than were reared in that garden, for the 

 maintenance it received was exquisite. What sunny hours 

 we children spent in it. And it was truly a charming spot, 

 though something must be allowed for the glamour of 

 boyish freshness and spirits. I feel, indeed, after seeing 

 all the modern inventions, that I could cheerfully forego 



