GARDENS NEAR THE SEA 



reason for its having been the all-desired low hedge 

 plant of old gardens, and one that is of prime importance 

 in many places that are new. Its prim, wholesome 

 air has remained unchanged from one generation to 

 another, and the odor of its leaves, so dear to some 

 and so disliked by others, is intertwined with many 

 tales of mystery. In olden days, box was planted 

 shortly after the entrance to a place was established, 

 and usually it endured long after the gate had been 

 unhinged for repairs. 



At present, it is frequently said that box winter- 

 kills; still there are innumerable instances of its having 

 lived long and well under what are considered severe 

 climates. The Puritans, in their early New England 

 winters of hardships, had with them the box as a 

 cheering companion. To-day at Sylvester Manor, 

 Shelter Island, a place not of gentle temper in the 

 winter, the box is of far-famed age, strong, sturdy stems, 

 and almost unmarred foliage. The oldest of it stands 

 sixteen and eighteen feet high. It was planted in 

 1652 by the first mistress of the garden, and by its 

 strong personality and mystic odor it still has the power 

 to turn the thoughts of those visiting it to distant 

 scenes and people long dead. 



About the homes of the southern coast towns, 

 box does not winter-kill, but rather grows to propor- 

 tions seldom attained in the northern states. 



To enumerate the gardens that have been enclosed 

 in box and that have had their beds and borders 

 edged with it would fill a volume, touching the history 

 and romance of many nations. Long ago, its unvary- 



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