THE LURE OF THE GARDEN 



yew hedges, and flower borders. Beech hedges, 

 and a long green tunnel . . . nooks and corners 

 and a grand, well-shaded tennis lawn, and, crown 

 of all, the 'Fantaisie,' . . . where all my favorite 

 flowers grow in wild profusion. . . ." 



Through the changing seasons we are led along the 

 green paths and by the borders of this gracious garden, 

 and watch each fresh addition and new blooming plant 

 a place of continual enjoyment, secure of sunshine 

 through even the wildest of winter nights. 



There are other gardens in literature, built up entirely 

 from fantasy and dream. Such an one is that where 

 Rappaccini's Daughter breathes in the subtle poisons 

 with which she is so fatally charged. Of this garden we 

 are told: " There was the ruin of a marble fountain in 

 the center, sculptured with rare art, but so wofully shat- 

 tered that it was impossible to trace the original design 

 from the chaos of remaining fragments. The water, how- 

 ever, continued to gush and sparkle in the sunshine as 

 cheerfully as ever ... all about the pool into which the 

 water subsided grew various plants, that seemed to re- 

 quire a plentiful supply of moisture for the nourishment 

 of gigantic leaves, and, in some instances, of flowers 

 gorgeously magnificent. There was one shrub in partic- 

 ular, set in a marble vase in the midst of the pool, that 

 bore a profusion of purple blossoms, each of which had 

 the lustre and richness of a gem ; and the whole together 

 made a show so resplendant that it seemed enough to 



