Sweet Herbs. 181 



had been done by an enormous grub, as long and 

 large as one's finger. 



Old-world plants and flowers linger still like heir- 

 looms in the farmhouse garden, though their pleasant 

 odor is oft-times choked by the gaseous fumes from the 

 furnaces of the steam-ploughing engines as they pass 

 along the road to their labor. Then a dark vapor 

 rises above the tops of the green elms, and the old 

 walls tremble and the earth itself quakes beneath the 

 pressure of the iron giant, while the atmosphere is 

 tainted with the smell of cotton-waste and oil. How 

 little these accord with the quiet, sunny slumber of 

 the homestead. But the breeze comes, and ere the 

 rattle of the wheels and cogs has died away, the fra- 

 grance of the flowers and green things has reasserted 

 itself. Such a sunny slumber, and such a fragrance 

 of flowers, both wild and cultivated, have dwelt round 

 and over the place these two hundred years, and may- 

 hap before that. It Js perhaps a fanc} r only, yet I 

 think that where men and Nature have dwelt side by 

 side time out of mind there is a sense of a presence, 

 a genius of the spot, a haunting sweetness and 

 loveliness not elsewhere to be found. The most lav- 

 ish expenditure, even when guided by true taste, can- 

 not produce this feeling about a modern dwelling. 



At Wick, by the side of the garden-path, grows a 

 perfect little hedge of lavender ; every drawer in the 

 house, when opened, emits an odor of its dried flowers. 

 Here, too, are sweet marjoram, rosemary, and rue ; so 

 also bay and thyme, and some pot-herbs whose use 

 is forgotten, besides southernwood and wormwood. 

 They do not make medical potions at home here 

 now, but the lily-leaves are used to allay inflamma- 



