An Incipient Garden 17 



wholly impossible. It's too damp to stay here any longer," 

 and he strolled away. 



Finding myself weakened under the force of his arguments, 

 I chose another adviser my pretty maid with golden brown 

 hair and rose leaf cheeks, to whom I had daily confided my 

 accumulating dreams. 



"Mollie come here sit down," and down she sat obedi- 

 ently. "This is it," said I waving an authoritative hand in 

 the direction of the tree and grape-vine, ignoring rocks and 

 brambles. "This is IT. My good Adam says it is impossi- 

 ble; what do you think?" 



She looked not at the difficulties, but like a true woman she 

 spoke. "Do you want it?" 



"I do," replied I fervently. 



"Then I'd have it," quoth she. 



And thus it came to pass that a certain well-beloved spot is 

 bounded on the north by a stone wall and a background of 

 trees, on the east by a rising slope upon which open my cham- 

 ber windows, on the south by the full sunshine, and on the 

 west by another rising slope beyond which stretch forest trees. 

 Never was there a more favored nook, free from early and late 

 frosts, moist from the depression made by the swale that runs 

 between the banks, forming a natural waterway to carry off 

 the winter snows, sheltered from the wind in every direction. 1 



i See Frontispiece The Site of the Garden. 



