Mater i6i 



leafage of the park, — the unbroken grass space; in 

 the same way the open water is the eye of the water 

 picture. It gives breadth and composition to the 

 scene, allows play of sunlight and reflection of leaf and 

 flower in the water and brooding of shadows on its 

 surface. The principles of design are the same, if one 

 will only pause to consider; whether it be a woodland 

 grass patch in a recess, a stream, or a great park meadow 

 with shrubs and trees receding in bays or boldly thrust- 

 ing themselves forward in promontories with expanse 

 and freedom of level space around them. It is all a 

 matter of scale — the small and the large, breadth and 

 height, colour and scent, they all aspire, reach upward, 

 lift, feel their strength to conquer and then give way 

 and yield, until finally there is an interval of peace, of 

 rest, when the smooth space stretches out to bear on its 

 liquid or green bosom the sun's rays and the drifting 

 shadows, to give to the open water a little quiet to 

 receive the sunset's last glowing touches and to settle 

 down finally into the soft odorous gloom of evening. 

 Then there are the battles of the seasons, heat and cold, 

 freshet, and storm wind. Even the little waterside 

 flower has to fight for its life, but it, too, gains its 

 victory, and rest and happiness after all the dis- 

 aster. The beauty and the modesty of the river- 

 side flower is not to be gainsaid in the days of its 

 victory. No stately plants of the palace garden can 

 surpass it in loveliness. Can any denizen of the formal 

 garden surpass in charm the subject of these beautiful 

 lines: 



