Richmond and Vicinity 



about two hundred yards away. It was elliptical in shape, with the 

 broad side facing the house some hundred feet away. The entrance 

 was through a gate which always brought to the boy's mind the 

 wicket gate in "Pilgrim's Progress." Pyrus or cydonia japonicas, 

 with their rich calico colors, grew on either side of this gate, and 

 almost met overhead. Walks, leading lengthwise through the cen- 

 ter and across, gave access to different parts of the garden, while 

 borders for annuals and squares for tender plants abounded, con- 

 venient for the mistress or her daughter to plant or tend, when they 

 chose to infringe upon the domain of Nat, the gardener. 



As the fiery acanthus glowed along the far side of the garden, 

 the rose bushes shone as the most noted things within it. They 

 were everywhere in almost wild profusion — George the Fourth, 

 Giant of Battles, Hermosa, York, and Lancaster, damask and 

 tea roses, and even the Hundred Leaf and Microphylla. This one 

 came from Shirley, that from Cousin Anne at Hickory Hill, another 

 from York, and that from Aunt Nelson at Long Branch, or from 

 Cousin Thomasia at Mountain View. Cherished above them all, 

 were the Offley roses — only wild roses which still bloom on the 

 tenth day of each June. These came from the place of that name, 

 five miles away, so charmingly described by the Marquis de 

 Chastellux. 



Lilacs, syringa, forsythia, bridal wreath, and spiraea ushered in 

 the spring with all their wealth of flowers, while violets, in cold 

 frames and borders, with hyacinths, delighted the eye. Jonquils 

 popping up in all directions gave the impression that the latter 

 must enjoy some special privilege to be thus breaking out of 

 bounds. 



A little later came the snow-balls, and then the poppies, after 

 the peonies had gone. Sweet williams and wall-flowers; nastur- 

 tium and alyssum; phlox and pinks — not then called carnations — 

 all had their place, while off in a moist quarter were gladioli 

 and lilies of the valley, about which Philip Pendleton Cooke wrote 

 in "Florence Vane." 



[109] 



