THE CHARM OF GARDENS 



this end is the good gardener born. The man, who, from 

 a sudden love, stops in his walk to look at a field of 

 Buttercups has no idea of the spiritual advancement he 

 has made. 



All this ambles away from the main topic, but so 

 closely does the peace of gardens cling, that thoughts 

 fly over the hedges like bees on the wing and bring 

 back honey from wider pastures and dreams from 

 larger tracts than those the garden itself covers. A 

 man might write a romance of Spain from looking at an 

 Orange. 



The Romans, who left an indelible mark on England 

 in their roadways and by their laws, built in this country 

 many villas whose pavements and foundations remain 

 to show us what manner of habitations they were. 

 Besides this we have ample records of the shapes and 

 purposes of these villas, with long accounts of baths, 

 furniture and the like, such as enable us to picture very 

 completely the life of a Roman gentleman exiled to these 

 shores. 



Houses, parks, and fields now cover all traces of any 

 gardens there were attached to these Roman villas. 

 Many a man lives over the spot where the hedges and 

 alleys, the flower beds and walks, once delighted those 

 gentlemen who sat drinking Falerian wine poured from 

 old amphorae dated by the year of the consul. Where 

 sheep now browse gentlemen have sat after a feast of 

 delicacies — Syrian Plums stewed with Pomegranate 

 seeds ; roasted field-fares, fresh Asparagus ; Dates sent 

 from Thebes — and, having eaten, have enjoyed the 

 work of their topiarius, whose skill has cut hedges of 

 Laurel, Box, and Yew into the forms of ships, bears, 

 beasts and birds. 



Differing from the Greeks, who were not good gar- 

 deners, the Romans, with a skill learnt partly from 



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