THE LURE OF THE GARDEN 



sentiment as the peas and beans and cabbage fed the 

 body. 



There is something singularly touching to us of the 

 present generation in these old gardens, as we find them 

 now in the old towns, scarcely changed inside their 

 high brick walls, and within whose circumscribed space 

 so many frail and busy hands found joyful labor, so 

 many patient eyes a calm delight. As the iron softened 

 in the soul of the people and happiness and beauty 

 were no longer regarded as sins, the utilitarian side of 

 the garden was less insisted upon, fruits and vegetables 

 were relegated to a place of their own, and the trium- 

 phant flowers gaily overran the spaces left vacant. This 

 was about the hour that our actual grandmothers came 

 in at the gate, and inaugurated the most charming era 

 of the American garden. On the stern foundation pre- 

 pared by their mothers, they laid a softening touch, 

 breathed a more glowing summons over slip and bulb 

 and seed, and were franker of their love. 



In an ancient part of Salem, Massachusetts, two old 

 maiden ladies occupy a commodious but simple frame- 

 house that has altered little during the century and more 

 of its existence. A strip of grass and shrubbery inter- 

 pose between house and street, while to the left, over 

 the palings, one can see the path curving round invit- 

 ingly and plunging into the green depths beyond. 

 Follow this path, and a charming old garden reveals 

 itself. Cherry-trees and wistaria overarch it, disputing 



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