The Happy Garden 



These were exactly what I wanted. It is in- 

 accurate to say that the river was the genesis of 

 the peat garden. The first need was for a bridge, 

 and from that all sprang. A bridge, if there is any 

 sense in it, means a railway, or a road, or a river, 

 or a canal, or a lake. It is said that the Chinese 

 obviate engineering difficulties by building a bridge 

 and turning a river from its course to flow under 

 it. . . . My notion was to have a bridge from 

 the old garden into the new, or, if one must be 

 symbolical, from my old self into the new. The 

 bridge was to be built of pine trees, and, discard- 

 ing the railway and the road, I came to water and 

 decided on a river. It was designed and dug out 

 from its apparent source under a spruce tree down 

 to the lake (or pond) in which it ends before ever 

 the bridge was advanced beyond the stage of the 

 decision of its site. It was to lead from the lawn 

 to the top part of the peat-garden. 



As the idea took shape, it seemed absurd for 

 the bridge to lead only from one garden to another 

 without the existence of any definite attraction, 

 and the gap was filled by the arrival of a catalogue 

 of trees and flowering shrubs. On the back of the 

 catalogue was a picture of a Japanese tea-house 

 overgrown with wistaria and laburnum, and set 

 about with azaleas. In half a second that tea- 



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