OUR SENTIMENTAL GARDEN 



of my study in fact) than to the proud-pied array of 

 the subsequent Tulips, nodding in the breeze over their 

 bed of close clustering Forget-me-Nots. This is the annual 

 treat provided in the spring for Grandpa's especial 

 behoof at Villino Loki by the industrious care of the 

 knowledgeable ladies. Nevertheless, as I say, my interest 

 is of the general order / not of details / not of ways and 

 means. I expect, in the maturity of every season, 

 delightful achievements, and find them/ but I take little 

 part in their planning. I am of no use for device and not 

 called upon in council. I thankfully enjoy the results/ 

 and this is perhaps not the worst part the Master of the 

 House could play in the year's transaction. 

 Only on two occasions have I volunteered a suggestion 

 with regard to planting and both are related to early, very 

 early, reminiscences. 



Creepers of all sorts we have in profusion. Ivy, of 

 course, and Jessamine and Honeysuckle, and the gorgeous, 

 if short-lived, Virginia- Ampilopsis its name, I believe. But 

 there is one thing, I pointed out, I must have also, and 

 that is the blue clustering, the incomparably fragrant 

 Glycine of my early childhood's days. Wisteria is its proper 

 English name. 



Odoriferous bushes, again, we have, of every description. 

 Ribes, Cassia, Gummy Cistus, what not ? lurk in ambus- 

 cade at the turning of paths to waylay you with their gush 

 of essence, not to speak of the Azaleas in their banks / but 

 all these perfumes, in their subtleness, belong to the middle 

 years. No memories of the complete freshness of time 

 cleave to them such as belong to the simple Sweet 

 Briar. 

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