men to spend an evening with him. In proper sequence he broached 
his plan for landscape improvement. The select-men wondered why 
they hadn't thought of it first and now the house sets well within its 
lawns with the road sweeping away at a respectful distance. 
A short drive from Indian Hill lies Mr. Moseley's other house Maudes- 
and garden overlooking the sea at Newburyport. Here luncheon leigh 
was served to all of the \dsitors and afterward the first Business 
Meeting was held in the Pine Grove. 
The great gardens were visited and admired and a beautiful 
exhibit of Thurlow's Peonies, arranged for the benefit of the Garden 
Club, excited much interest. 
The visit ended with a walk throug h the woods and along a Laurel- 
covered bank, a rare treat to western visitors who must journey a long 
way to see this most beautiful of native shrubs. Last year it bloomed 
so profusely that this year it has few flowers except at Maudesleigh 
where its pink ivory clusters were frequent enough to make a fine 
showing. This Laurel has grown in masses unexcelled anywhere in New 
England for more than a hundred years. In the old days it was a picnic 
grove used much by William Lloyd Garrison and the Abolitionists. 
The grove itself would be beautiful without the Laurels but with 
the mass of shining green leaves and exquisite flowers it is perfect. 
We walk across the sloping lawn to the west of the house, de- The Garden 
liberately turning our backs on that superb panorama of ocean, inlet, at Castle 
sound and salt marshes, and enter the cool, dark antechamber of Hill, Ipswich 
Laurel and conifers leading down to the Itahan Garden. 
Below us, as we descend the moss-grown steps, we catch ghmpses 
of old grey balustrades, parterres of gay flowers and shadows of tall 
evergreens lying across the closely clipped turf. The sparkle of a 
fountain seen through a narrow opening in the dark cedars at the 
extreme end reminds us of the old gardens of Florence. It is late in 
the afternoon, the time when all gardens look their best and the 
slanting Hght through the trees which overhang the sides of this 
enchanted ravine have a weird fairy effect. 
We emerge on a terrace overlooking the whole oval space. A 
wall fountain plashes beneath us unseen; birds are singing in the 
dense woods which surround this amphitheatre cut into the hillside; 
again we thrill at the long shadows l>'ing across flower-bed and grass. 
Here in this sheltered spot the fierce wind that we have been batthng 
with all the afternoon is only a faint sighing in the tree tops, secluded, 
protected, walled in on each side — was there ever such a setting for a 
flower garden? 
We hnger awhile and then leisurely proceed down one of the broad, 
low, curving flights of steps, which leads us to the side terraces which 
47 
