by storms, and covered with the growths of a century, with their grassy 

 knolls and beds of flowers, inviting retreats and shady nooks, appeal to 

 the desire for rest and peace instinctive in us all, a longing becoming 

 pathetic in its intensity in such a busy, hard-working town as Gardner. 



'■ These shades 

 Are still the abodes of gladness; the thick roof 

 Of green and stirring branches is alive 

 And musical with birds, that sing and sport 

 In wantonness of spirit." 



The Uldest Cellar-Hole. 



On the left from Pearl street, half a mile from the road, almost 

 hidden by the bushes growing around it, is the oldest cellar-hole in 

 Gardner, and the only one whose history is lost. The eighteen-inch 

 stump of a pine tree that grew in its centre indicates an abandonment 

 long before the settlement of the town. A few narrow, hand-made 

 brick of ancient pattern and the iron crane that once hung in the stone 

 chimney, attest the presence of a white man, as does the deep cellar 

 itself ; but all else is gone forever. 



In these woods a favored maiden once found the rare white ladies' 

 slipper ( Cypripedii{w caudidiou ) , perhaps the onl>' one ever found in 

 Worcester Count v. 



