THE LURE OF THE GARDEN 



Here in America there are necessarily none that are 

 really old. For the red man was in no other way so 

 truly a savage as in the fact that he knew nothing of 

 gardens. Nevertheless, there are a few in the Old 

 Dominion and in New England that date back almost 

 as far as the white occupation, and which breathe the 

 gracious perfume of a vanished day. In the generous 

 climate of California, moreover, nature brings flower 

 and vine and tree to so quick and vigorous a growth, 

 and mellows the sun-kissed walls so soon after they 

 are built, that the passage of time is scarcely needed to 

 give these southern places all the beauty of long- 

 lapsed years. 



Italy and England may well dispute the palm for 

 supreme loveliness in gardens. The warm ardor 

 of the former, the adoration of her people for art, 

 form, color, for keeping outdoors and living among 

 flowers, has evolved one beautiful expression of this 

 art, as the moist fertility of England, the country life 

 there, and the long tenure of the estates, with a dis- 

 tinct passion for growing things, has brought about its 

 own consummation of perfection. 



In the wonderful days of the Italian Renaissance, 

 women took a keen joy in building and planting 

 gardens that have survived to this day, and are among 

 the most exquisite on earth. Much of the medieval 

 life was passed in them. Here duchesses and prin- 

 cesses held court under the ilex and the rose; here the 



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