CHAPTER XIII 
PRIVATE GARDENS 
Even in the stifling bosom of a town 
A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms 
That soothe the rich possessor ; . . . 
-Cov/PER. 
N writing of the private gardens of 
London it is difficult to know 
where to begin. There are a few 
large and beautiful gardens, but 
for the most part the smaller they 
are, and the less there is to write 
about them of interest to the 
general reader, the more they are 
of value to the happy possessors. It is the minute 
back-garden, invaded by all the cats of the neighbour¬ 
hood, with a few plants on which an infinity of time 
and trouble, care and thought, have been expended, 
that is the real typical London garden. What a joy to 
see the patches of seeds come up in the summer, and 
with what expectation are the buds on the one lilac 
bush examined to see if really at last it is going to 
flower ! What pleasure the fern dug up on a summer 
holiday gives, as it bravely uncurls its fronds year by 
year! What delight is occasioned if the Virginian 
creeper, which covers the wall, grows more luxuriantly 
than those of the houses on either side, and what excite- 
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