The James River Plantation Belt 



to end its pilgrimage at the high brick wall which secludes from 

 idle gaze the Temple burying-ground. 



This six-foot wall, covered with the grays and golds of age and 

 topped with crescent bricks, is in such good repair that the only 

 break in it was made when it was built, and this was to permit the 

 entrance way. Roses and periwinkle here live together as kindred 

 in a spot as peaceful as the imagination can picture. A wistaria 

 of patriarchal age, with gnarled and knotted stem, with ivy of 

 ancient lineage, drape the walls and festoon the tombs, the oldest 

 of which dates back to 1800. To the south and the east and the 

 north of the graveyard the apple orchard of about fifteen acres 

 extends. 



In April, the rosy-red bud unfolds its blossoms near this garden. 

 In May, a dogwood pitches its tent within its borders. In June, the 

 frail mimosas call to the humming-birds, which fly to it from the 

 acacias that overshadow it from the lawn. With September, the 

 hickory and walnut trees give warning of autumn's onslaught. 

 Then comes the glory of flaming maples, which lose their leaves 

 only in time to give way to the blue and red berries of cedar and 

 holly which brighten old Ampthill till spring. 



And it is in the spring that the old place is at its loveliest, for 

 then the apple trees are in full bloom. At this season no one 

 walks in the garden or stands on the lawn, but is told some tale 

 of haunted chambers or of water sprites seen on calm May 

 nights dancing in the lowlands. For, when the gorse throws out its 

 gold banners and the apple trees pitch their pink tents, Colonel Gary 

 walks once more in his garden to see if all goes well with his place. 



This old garden in its calm repose means — ah, so much! 

 Memories come to the least romantic and fancy slips back over the 

 bridge of two hundred years to recall what Ampthill stood for in 

 the days of the English Georges. But, the thing of all others that 

 appeals to us of this later and much changed day, is the human 

 interest the old garden awakens. It is this very quality that lends 

 to the semi-neglected spot its elusive, haunting charm. 



[69] 



