Landscape Gardening 



ing, of the poet with his verse, of the 

 playwright with his play, is a penalty ex- 

 acted by the ideal for which men strive, 

 and which all the more surely eludes the 

 greatest, whose imagination is the most 

 far-reaching. When a man is satisfied 

 with what he has done he has reached his 

 limit ; from that point he goes down-hill, 

 imperceptibly it may be at first, but none 

 the less surely. 



Our own discontent with our landscape- 

 gardening convinces me that we have a 

 future before us for a good while to come. 

 Our picture will bear a lot of working on 

 for many years yet, and in the mean time 

 we have room for a succession of despairs, 

 which will serve to keep us- properly 

 humble. 



But that we have on the north of our A landscape 

 house a landscape to evolve that is a true 

 picture, no one can deny who looks out 

 upon the ever-changing meadow from the 

 bowery veranda from which we view it 

 with never-failing joy. Not a far-reaching 

 view, but such a one as Englishmen like 

 to paint, a distant hill, a few clustering 

 cottages, a level stretch of meadow with a 



25 1 



