^ The Scented Qarden fj£ 



I since tasted the like of the greengages which grew against 

 the old wall. Is there anything quite so good as both the 

 smell and the taste of a ripe greengage picked hot in the 

 sun ? I can see the orderly rows of broad beans, lettuces, 

 peas and scarlet runners and stout cabbages. The onions 

 and ' sparrer grass ' were the special pride of the old 

 gardener's heart. I can see the well and hear the pleasant 

 clanking sound of the bucket as it was let down. I see old 

 Gregory attending to the bee-hives with the calm gentle 

 movements which characterize all experienced bee-keepers. 

 He invariably talked to the bees when he was attending 

 to them, and one day when, as a small child, I was 

 watching him, I asked him, ' Do the bees understand what 

 you are saying to them, Gregory ? ' ' Understan', Missie ? ' 

 he replied, ' Just as much as horses an' dogs an' cattle ; 

 it stands to sense and reason they do. An' sometimes I 

 thinks they understan' more nor we do.' And the rasp- 

 berries and gooseberries ! My great-aunt had a favourite 

 Aberdeen, who, incredible though it may seem, loved 

 ripe gooseberries. He used to sit up, as though he were 

 begging, and eat them and wail aloud every few minutes 

 whenever his nose was pricked. I love to think of the 

 huge bed of lilies of the valley, where one could gather 

 and gather to one's heart's content for one's friends in 

 the village. But my chief recollection of that kitchen 

 garden is of roses. Cabbage roses and La France and 

 Gloire de Dijon and Maiden's Blush, and if one gathered 

 armfuls it seemed to make no difference. Those were the 

 days when people filled their rooms with innumerable 

 small vases of flowers, but my great-aunt, who went her 

 own way entirely, loved to have big bowls of flowers 

 everywhere, even in the passages of her house. 

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