286 Old Time Gardens 



sung by the poets, and I never knew any one to 

 call the Sweet-william her favorite flower, save one 

 person. Old residents of Worcester will recall the 

 tiny cottage that stood on the corner of Chestnut 

 and Pleasant streets, since the remote years when the 

 latter-named street was a post-road. It was occu- 

 pied during my childhood by friends of my mother 

 a century-old mother, and her ancient unmarried 

 daughter. Behind the house stretched one of the 

 most cheerful gardens I have ever seen ; ever, in my 

 memory, bathed in glowing sunlight and color. Of 

 its glories I recall specially the long spires of vivid 

 Bee Larkspur, the varied Poppies of wonderful 

 growth, and the rioting Sweet-williams. The latter 

 flowers had some sentimental association to the older 

 lady, who always asserted with emphasis to all vis- 

 itors that they were her favorite flower. They over- 

 ran the entire garden, crowding the grass plot where 

 the washed garments were hung out to dry, even 

 growing in the chinks of the stone steps and between 

 the flat stone flagging of the little back yard, where 

 stood the old well with its moss-covered bucket. 

 They spread under the high board fence and ap- 

 peared outside on Chestnut Street ; and they ex- 

 tended under the dense Lilac bushes and Cedars 

 and down the steep grass bank and narrow steps to 

 Pleasant Street. The seed was carefully gathered, 

 especially of one glowing crimson beauty, the color 

 of the Mullein Pink, and a gift of it was highly 

 esteemed by other garden owners. Old herbals say 

 the Sweet-williams are " worthy the Respect of the 

 Greatest Ladies who are Lovers of Flowers.'' They 



