CHAPTER IV 



BOX EDGINGS 



'« They walked over the crackling leaves in the garden, between 

 the lines of Box, breathing its fragrance of eternity ; for this is one 

 of the odors which carry us out of time into the abysses of the 

 unbeginning past ; if we ever lived on another ball of stone than 

 this, it must be that there was Box growing on it." 



— Elsie Vernier, Oliver Wendell Holmes, 1861. 



O many of us, besides Dr. Holmes, 

 the unique aroma of the Box, 

 cleanly bitter in scent as in taste, 

 is redolent of the eternal past ; it 

 is almost hypnotic in its effect. 

 This strange power is not felt by 

 all, nor is it a present sensitory 

 influence; it is an hereditary mem- 





ory, half-known by many, but fixed in its intensity 

 in those of New England birth and descent, true 

 children of the Puritans; to such ones the Box 

 breathes out the very atmosphere of New England's 

 past. I cannot see in clear outline those prim gar- 

 dens of centuries ago, nor the faces of those who 

 walked and worked therein ; but I know, as I stroll 

 to-day between our old Box-edged borders, and in- 

 hale the beloved bitterness of fragrance, and gather 

 a stiff sprig of the beautiful glossy leaves, that in 

 truth the garden lovers and garden workers ot 



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