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 always 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 pass 

 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 : 



