The Herb Garden 121 



very faithfully all his printed writings, trying to 

 believe him a great man, a seer ; but I cannot, in 

 spite of my gratitude for his flattering though unful- 

 filled prophecy, discover in his books any profound 

 signs of depth or novelty of thought. In his 

 Tablets are some very pleasant, if not surprisingly 

 wise, essays on domestic subjects; one, on "Sweet 

 Herbs," tells cheerfully of the womanly care of the 

 herb garden, but shows that, when written — about 

 1850 — borders of herbs were growing infrequent. 



One great delight of old English gardens is never 

 afforded us in New England ; we do not grow 

 Lavender beds. I have of course seen single plants 

 of Lavender, so easily winter-killed, but I never 

 have seen a Lavender bed, nor do I know of one. 

 It is a great loss. A bed or hedge of Lavender is 

 pleasing in the same way that the dress of a Quaker 

 lady is pleasing; it is reposeful, refined. It has a 

 soft effect at the edge of a garden, like a blue-gray 

 haze, and alwavs reminds me of doves. The power 

 of association or some inherent quality of the plant, 

 makes Lavender always suggest freshness and clean- 

 liness. 



We may linger a little with a few of these old 

 herb favorites. One of the most balmy and beauti- 

 ful of all the sweet breaths borne by leaves or 

 blossoms is that of Basil, which, alas ! I see so sel- 

 dom. I have always loved it, and can never p;iss 

 it without pressing its leaves in my hand; and I 

 cannot express the satisfaction, the triumph, with 

 which I read these light-giving lines of old Thomas 

 Tusser, which showed me why I loved it : — 



