VIII 

 COMTORT IN THE GARDEN 



Comfort in the garden is almost as essential as comfort 

 in the house. To have one's garden so planted that it affords 

 no chance for a man to sit at his ease in the shade, to smoke 

 his pipe of contemplation if he chooses, to read, or watch the 

 bees among the flowers, and to survey the results of his labor, 

 is to miss one of the most legitimate joys of garden-making. 



Never would Andrew Marvell have had his "green 

 thoughts," had not his garden been blessed with the "green 

 shade" to inspire them. 



It was because of this liking for the "green shade" that 

 in the older gardens were the pleached alleys, the lime walks, 

 and the "carpenter work." At Middleton Place, in South 

 Carolina, most elaborate of the great estates of two hundred 

 years ago, the planting of the spacious gardens was so ar- 

 ranged that one might make a tour of the entire gardens, enjoy 

 them to the fuU, and yet none of the time, unless he chose, be 

 exposed to the sun — sometimes the walk would lie between 

 walls of green, so close were the tall magnolias; sometimes 

 under great live-oaks where a wide expanse of river spread 

 just below, but at no time was there the necessity to "buy 

 the shade by going into the sun." This boon of shade is ap- 

 preciated keenly in a southern climate, and is a grace for which 

 many a visitor to a northern garden has sighed in vain. 



With our clear skies and intense sunshine, coolness and 

 shade are eminently desirable in the gardens, but unless our 



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