THE WILD GARDEN 



fern, oxalis, hepaticas and the many other 

 flowers make a garden of the woods. 



Beyond, and a mile and more from the 

 Connecticut garden, and separated from it 

 by glades and sloping fields, upon a far end 

 of the estate, there is a wonderful hemlock 

 glen, where a foaming stream tumbles over 

 its rocky bed, which lies at the bottom of a 

 deep ravine worn out by centuries of rushing 

 waters. This glen is bordered on both sides 

 and banks by ancient hemlocks, through 

 whose great branches the sunshine comes but 

 gently; here footsteps make no sound on the 

 needle-sown ground, gray rocks, bedded in 

 ferns, and carpeted with many varieties of 

 moss, invite one to sit upon their soft cush- 

 ions and listen to the changing music of the 

 stream below, while wood pigeons, flying from 

 tree to tree, utter their soft notes, and deli- 

 cious scents of sweet fern and resinous hem- 

 lock fill the air. The stream, in places dash- 

 ing over water-worn boulders, sends its white 

 spray high in air, and again hurries down 



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