GARDENS NEAR THE SEA 



Undoubtedly, a particular fragrance will bring 

 back quickly to the mind, and with much vividness, 

 scenes and associations which have apparently been 

 forgotten and which might otherwise lie dormant 

 for a lifetime. The odors of many flowers are very 

 distinctive. The perfume of the strawberry shrub 

 is like none other; fraxinella, lavender, lilacs, and an 

 infinite number of flowers are as well known by their 

 fragrance as by their appearance. And although we 

 smell them a hundred times a season, under many and 

 dissimilar circumstances, there is perhaps only the 

 one association that they will definitely recall. It is 

 the one that has affected us deeply and moved our 

 sentiment. 



The first strawberry shrub that I ever saw was 

 given to me when a small child by a red-cheeked boy 

 just as I went into church with my grandmother. I 

 slipped it into the palm of my hand under my glove, 

 and throughout the service I kept my nose closely to 

 the opening of the glove, smelling the flower. I was 

 reproved again and again, but I continually reverted 

 to my new and exquisite diversion; for, in those days, 

 the time spent in church seemed longer than the rest 

 of the whole week. Even now, each spring, when the 

 first of these strange little flowers gives its scent to 

 the air, I am for an instant transplanted, as it were, 

 back to that stiff church pew, aching to be out in the 

 open, and smelling the strawberry shrub in my glove. 



Old English herb gardens were regarded by many 

 as places of inherent sentiment, because, no doubt, 

 the strong pungent odors of their herbs were known 



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