THE LURE OF THE GARDEN 



her orders for the planting of this and that in her gar- 

 dens, saw that the paths were raked and the beds 

 weeded, and sent word through her distinguished hus- 

 band to thank a friend for the present of "roots and 

 flower seeds." Probably Miss Custis moved about the 

 sweet-smelling beds a good deal, vivid as a flower her- 

 self, on visits there. And the General's nephew, George, 

 with his own wife, also dwelt in the " Delightful Man- 

 sion," going the rounds for his uncle when affairs of 

 state called the latter away; for Washington was still 

 needed by his country. 



The best time in which to see this beautiful and 

 kindly spot, and to conjure up its past, is when the long 

 shadows begin to stretch themselves on the grass, weary 

 of their dancing through the day. A mist lies white on 

 the river, stealing up as the twilight deepens to creep 

 among the trees and drift over the garden in wraith-like 

 wisps. Gone are the excursionists with their noisy ad- 

 miration; not a footstep passes, at least no human 

 tread. Instead there are scurryings of the little creatures 

 of the earth and air, the chuchurr of myriads of insects, 

 the evening song of birds in the rich gold and purple 

 light of the dying day, the stirring of the wind in the 

 trees. So many birds ! The cardinal, fluting its joyous 

 notes before it drops like a flame to the ground from 

 the dark mystery of a huge oak ; the song-sparrows and 

 linnets, measuring their ripple of music over and over 

 again ; the robins calling from every tree-top ; then, 



