I 



THE ROMAN GARDEN IN ENGLAND 



IT would appear, judging from the specimens one sees, 

 that the building of garden apartments, or summer- 

 houses, is a lost art. But then leisure, as an art, has 

 also been lost ; and no man unless he understand leisure 

 can possibly build an apartment to be entirely devoted 

 to it. 



Imagine the man of the day who could write of his 

 summer-house as the younger Pliny wrote : "At the 

 end of the terrace, adjoining to the gallery, is a little 

 garden-apartment, which I own is my delight. In 

 truth it is my mistress : I built it." The younger 

 Pliny, of to-day, is scouring the countryside in a motor- 

 car, his eyes half-blinded by dust, his nose offended 

 by the stink of petrol ; his thoughts, like his toys, 

 purely mechanical. 



There are still a few quiet people, and some scholars, 

 whom the Socialist in his eager desire to benefit man- 

 kind at reckless speed, and at ruthless expense of 

 humanity, would like to blot out, who can enjoy their 

 gardens with that curious remoteness which is the 

 privilege of the person of leisure. 



The art of leisure lies, to me, in the power of absorbing 

 without effort the spirit of one's surroundings ; to 

 look, without speculation, at the sky and the sea ; to 

 become part of a green plain ; to rejoice, with a tranquil 

 mind, in the feast of colour in a bed of flowers. To 



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