OUR COUNTRY LIFE 



winding path stopping abruptly at the closed door, over 

 which some vine must fall, and the look of expectancy 

 in the eyes of my companion as we pause before it. I 

 must try to remember always to pause before it, that is 

 such a spur to the imagination. And then, the door 

 must push open slowly. This will be the wall and 

 water garden hidden away in the shade of deep woods. 

 A narrow pool half covered with cress, Quaker ladies 

 and forget-me-nots will extend its entire length ir- 

 regularly outlined with sunken bowlders and heaped-up 

 rocks. Long fronds of cool, green ferns will shelter 

 the Alpine plants nestling in the crevices especially pre- 

 pared for them with fibrous, moisture-holding earth. 

 Tiny paths will meander over and through the miniature 

 defiles, and from the walls green vines will fall in 

 picturesque confusion. Pampas with eulalia grass and 

 arundos will wave their feathery plumes, and emerald 

 mosses will cover damp corners in this delectable re- 

 treat. 



Of course, one of these gardens must be devoted to 

 roses; we can never have too many of them, and in this 



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