July. 1 9 1 S 



THE G A RDEN M A C. A Z I N E 



357 



mantle courtship without spoiling the tale, 



which has been told for all time by Long- 

 fellow in the poem called "Elizabeth" 

 which you will find in the "Tales of a 

 Wayside Inn," Part Third. But even I, 

 who have but a spark of poetry, was moved 

 to get down my Sunday School edition 

 and read the exquisite story, which has 

 warmed every ossified heart on which 

 I have since tried it. 



Most Colonial gardens are melancholy 

 wrecks, but Elizabeth Haddon's garden 

 is a joy. There is no trouble in recreating 

 the eighteenth century atmosphere. The 

 garden is a rectangle of about an acre 

 which was bounded on two sides by the old 

 house and a vanished terrace, and is still 

 bounded on the other two sides by a brick 

 wall of a beauty which pierces to one's 

 marrow. It is about four feet high and is 

 capped with wood so that brick wall 

 harmonizes with brick house and wooden 

 cap, with wooden roof, and the whole 

 makes a transition from architecture to 

 nature. The long wooden boards are 

 securely fastened to short beams, about 

 4 x 4 x 18 in. laid at intervals of four feet 

 in the top of the wall. If I read the story 

 rightly, there was no need of an 8-foot 

 wall in 1 7 13, for there was privacy enough 

 in the wilderness. Presumably the func- 

 tion of a wall was to keep cows out of the 

 flower beds, but it also satisfied the English- 



man's instinct to warn the universe that 

 his home is his castle. Of similar con- 

 struction is the adjacent brew house, the 

 only building of Elizabeth Estaugh's which 

 has survived. The view over the wall is 

 doubtless similar to the one Elizabeth 

 enjoyed, for her house was surrounded by 

 cultivated fields — the only break in the 

 forest which stretched everywhere as far 

 as the eye could see. To-day, of course, 

 the woods are not so fine, and the view will 

 be ruined unless some one with a soul 

 rescues the whole tract. 



It is impossible to escape the magic of 

 the past, for the old boxwood trees in the 

 garden "breathe the fragrance of eternity." 

 Eleven of these stately evergreens line the 

 terrace walk and the path which pene- 

 trates the heart of the garden. On one 

 side of the terrace are the tallest speci- 

 mens — three trees about twenty-two to 

 twenty-four feet high. Along the central 

 walk the boxwoods have been trimmed 

 to rounded bushes about 10 x 10 ft. These 

 are almost, if not quite, flawless, and the 

 lower branches have taken root in an 

 interesting manner. 



But the real heroes of the garden are the 

 old yews. They are waiting for you just 

 where you would expect to find them, at 

 the old trysting place. They brood over 

 the centre of the garden, like Philemon and 

 Baucis, and are stationed on either side 



of the :nain walk. Another picture shows 

 this path leading straight to the big house 

 past the trained box bushes and emphasizes 

 the grandeur of the picturesque yew trunks. 

 Mr. Rhoads' picture, here reproduced, 

 shows the old brew house and gives some 

 notion of the feathery foliage of the yew 

 trees, which have a flat spray of short 

 needles, like that of hemlock. Unfortun- 

 ately, both trees were badly hurt by the 

 continental ice storm a few years ago, and 

 it is doubtful whether they will survive 

 another century. 



There is a third yew which is harder to 

 explain, for it lacks a mate. It stands in 

 front of the house, as if designed to help 

 frame the home picture, and the mind 

 demands another yew to balance it on the 

 other side of the walk which leads to the 

 front door. Whether there was a yew 

 there originally who can tell? A tall 

 deciduous tree is now on the spot. This 

 odd yew has a trunk about three feet in 

 diameter, seems twenty-three to twenty- 

 five feet high, and has a spread of seventeen 

 paces — about fifty feet. 



The flowers have long since disappeared 

 from Elizabeth Haddon's garden, but the 

 charm remains. Some day, let us hope, 

 the small fruits and quaint old simples 

 that must have been there two hundred 

 years ago will be restored. Such a garden 

 ought to be preserved. 



Hardy Shrubs for the Northwest— By c. L. Meller, s 



North 

 akota 



A FEW WELL KNOWN SHRUBS OF THE EAST THAT ARE QUITE AT HOME IN THE EXTREME COLD AND 

 ALSO SOME WORTHY NATIVE MATERIAL THAT SHOULD BE USED IN MAKING GROUPS IN THIS REGION 



IT ORTICULTURALLY, the Northwest 

 *■ -* is little beyond the pioneer stage, 

 while in the matter of landscape garden- 

 ing it is still in its infancy with school days 

 yet ahead. The climate of this region, 

 rigorous in its extremes, but healthy, is so 

 unlike that of any other section of the 

 Union or even of foreign parts that ex- 

 perience can be the only teacher and out 

 of this inevitable experimenting, results 

 will come that even the East may copy 

 with profit. In the matter of shrubs, al- 

 ready the indications are that the North- 

 west will develop some material which 

 the entire country may ultimately demand 

 in producing certain effects. It is the 

 winter winds, with late spring and early 

 autumn frosts that limit the gardener of 

 the Northwest in what he can grow. 



Though the golden bell is hardy, the 

 winter invariably kills the flower buds ; and, 

 lacking its springtime joy, the shrub serves 

 no purpose. To take its place as an early 

 spring bloomer, we have the native goose- 

 berry with its greenish white flowers, whose 

 charm consists in their suggestiveness of a 

 humming bird on the wing, rather than 

 in any marked beauty they possess. 

 Hardy and unmindful of neglect, this 

 gooseberry will thrive in poor soil and deep 

 shade. Nothing transplants more readily 



and a mature bush may be divided into as 

 many plants as there are canes, provided 

 a bit of root be taken with each cane. 



Springtime color play that can be 

 achieved as readily in the Northwest as 

 in the East is that produced by the white 

 of Van Houtte's spirea contrasted with the 

 pink of the Tartarian honeysuckle when 

 the former fronts the latter. It is a delicate 

 combination, the pink among the green 

 above the pronounced bank of white. 



Extravagant as is the wording of the 

 average nursery catalogue, I can recall no 

 instance where the description of this 

 particular spirea exceeds its merits. The 

 severest winters, the driest summers and 

 the strongest winds seldom injure it. The 

 clean and ever healthy foliage assumes in 

 fall a bronze that adds distinctly to the color 

 scheme of autumn. Due to its abundant, 

 compact, and fibrous roots, it transplants 

 as readily in July and August as in 

 spring and fall. Though in such locations 

 somewhat slow of growth and about a 

 week later in bloom, it will nevertheless 

 thrive to the north of a wall where but 

 little sunlight reaches it. 



The Tartarian honeysuckle is second to 

 none in hardihood and delicacy of bloom. 

 It takes about a year or two for this shrub 

 to get a good roothold on the soil but 



thereafter its permanency is assured. Its 

 outline is somewhat peculiar among shrubs, 

 rising from a narrow base to a broad 

 rounded top. The translucent, red berry 

 ripens early and adds its color value in 

 early summer but unhappily drops before 

 fall. Both the spirea and the honey- 

 suckle can be used separately as specimen 

 shrubs, but are prettiest in combination. 



Of lilacs we have an abundance and can 

 carry their bloom into June. Nowhere 

 does the common lilac thrive better than 

 on the fat clays of the prairies. It is an 

 effective screen for through its compact 

 foliage no light can penetrate. With 

 this, we can contrast the lighter and more 

 delicate foliage of the Rouen lilac which is 

 equally as hardy and fully as abundant in its 

 bloom but much more refined in general 

 appearance. This shrub is often wrongly 

 called the Persian lilac; the true Persian 

 lilac is altogether unreliable in the North- 

 west. No small advantage of the common 

 lilac is its ability to withstand frosts, 

 remaining green during our delightful 

 Indian summers when all the trees are bare 

 and most of the shrubs stand naked. The 

 Chinese lilac, which is hardy and blooms 

 fully a month later than the others, can well 

 be used to extend the season into June. 



The snowball thrives, it would appear, 



