GARDENS OF CELEBRITIES 
tears of amber gum. Opposite to these were a Codlin, a large and 
ancient thorn (rose-red all over in May), and an acacia, certainly 
the largest I have ever seen; ‘‘as high as the ’cacia”’ being our 
nursery standard of comparison, where height was in question. 
Close to the house was a Golden Pippin, which made a practice 
of dropping its smooth and yellowing apples on the dewy grass in 
the early morning, a tempting bait to the child who was the earliest 
bird among us. He or she needed to rise betimes, for soon the old 
gardener would arrive, and pick them up before whetting his 
scythe to mow the lawn. How well I remember the sunshiny 
mornings when one awoke to the pleasant sound of the sharpening 
of the scythe, and to the “ swish! ’’ of the long sweep of it over the 
grass; no patent lawn-mower ever invaded our paradise in those 
days ! 
In the far corner of the garden, hard by the nunnery wall, was 
a very ancient mulberry-tree. According to tradition it was one 
of many planted in this corner of Middlesex by order either of 
Queen Elizabeth or James I., both monarchs having wished to 
encourage the silk industry in England. History says their attempt 
was a failure; but ours was a success! My brothers and sisters 
and I all kept silk-worms; and very busy we were, every summer, 
with our improvised winding-machines, reeling off the shining, 
flossy silk from the cocoons ; whilst half the children of the hamlet 
came begging at our gates for the daily dole of mulberry leaves to 
feed their curious grey pets. 
There was a bowling-green at the back of the house; at the 
front a straight, stone-paved walk led up from the gate to the front 
door-steps, and on each side of it, like sentries on guard, stood a 
tall, dark tree, either cypress or fir; at this distance of time I am 
not sure which; nor could I swear to anything concerning them, 
except that they were coniferous, or cone-bearing trees. 
The flowers in our garden were all of the old-fashioned sort. 
There were no ‘“ Standards,” but everything grew on bushes ; 
“York and Lancaster’ roses, striped red and white; sweet- 
scented blush-roses, moss-roses (seldom seen nowadays); and 
enormous pink cabbage-roses, in which it was delicious to bury 
one’s nose and inhale a long draught of unrivalled fragrance. 
How it all comes back to me, bit by bit, little by little! I did 
not think I could recall it, until I tried. I remember particularly 
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