December, 1908 



AMERICAN HOMES AND GARDENS 



465 



may lose oneself in its floral borders; stand, as it were, in 

 the center of a great bouquet, spread out on every side as 

 far as eye can see. You may, indeed, be the single incon- 

 gruous element in the whole landscape, for what mere man 

 dare compare himself with the loveliness of flowers? 



Not I, surely; and in truth, as my entranced eyes carried 

 me from one mass of flowering to another, from one deli- 

 cate hue to perhaps a richer, stronger note, it seemed as 

 though, most unworthily, I had gained entrance to fairy- 

 land, a true and real fairyland; for the path I trod was 

 real and solid, the trees gave back their natural resistance 



moment, if you please, imagine that there has been no system 

 displayed in its planting, no reasoning avoided in what has 

 been done here. Nor think, if you will, that there can be 

 only confusion here, plentifully distributed, displayed under 

 every tree, flourishing unabashed by every foot of walk. 



There is nothing of this at all; for how could there be 

 when the single underlying idea that determined the form 

 and content of this garden was simply to gather here every 

 beautiful kind of plant, every plant that had beauty or 

 helped beauty, or that gave forth a delicious perfume, or 

 which had some exquisite or some noble form — if I say all 



n the woods 



Some of the hundred steps on the hillside 



once I put my hand upon them, and the flowers were real, 

 too, growing in endless profusion, each stem seemingly 

 capped with its own precious note of loveliness and color. 



Yes, it was all true and all real, and I had no need to 

 pinch myself or thrust a pin within my flesh to realize that 

 I was awake and really here. But, surely, fairyland could 

 not be fairer than this sweetly scented garden, nor finer nor 

 more beautiful. Even the "common" flowers, if there be 

 such things, took on an unaccustomed note of beauty and 

 seemed the better fitted to fill their part of having some- 

 thing to do and doing it with as much grace as they could. 



If I have described this garden as a place in which every 

 lovely thing grew and bloomed in profusion, do not for a 



this lay below the planting of this garden, then how could 

 it be aught but beautiful? Surely, where beauty is gathered 

 together, there is beauty, and all else matters not at all. 



And a garden being a place for plants, this is a true 

 garden. The architect has not hauled into it mammothly 

 heavy constructions of stone and cement; the sculptor has 

 not set up his statuary or his carved vases; the landscape 

 architect has not brought out his plans and instruments. I 

 doubt if any of these good folk had a "job" here or needed 

 one. Quite certainly they were not needed; for in the deli- 

 ciously lovely embroidery of the simple plants themselves 

 there is nature's richest adornment to her own surface, and 

 her most gracious offering to the human mind and senses. 



