OUR GRANDMOTHER’S GARDENS 
ters, and this individuality showed itself in their gar¬ 
dens. For of these, though they were fashioned of 
precisely the same materials and given approximately 
the same space, no two were alike. Their apparent 
formlessness was not lack of expression; on the con¬ 
trary, it was the subtle expression of a living face rather 
than the steadfast stare of a statue. Like the houses 
and the furniture of the period, the gardens reveal taste. 
They were never pretentious. They were comfortable, 
livable. The arbors, covered with grape-vines, were 
close to the back door, easy of access, places where the 
mother might sit quietly over much of her work. The 
flowers were to be picked, some to fill the pewter bowls, 
others for making essences and waters, or to be carried 
to a sick friend. 
Flowers first tended to become a major part of gar¬ 
dening in England during the seventeenth century, and 
it is to this we owe the fact that the notable flowers and 
shrubs of England struck root here so early. Neither 
Puritan nor Cavalier would leave the new glory behind, 
so that both the grim New England land and the more 
ardent plantations of the South were enriched with the 
flowers of the mother country, as well as with her corn 
and cattle. 
Narrow and hard the Pilgrim fathers may have been; 
but at least in their wives’ or daughters' hearts the love 
of beauty lingered, and found an outlet in the garden; 
rose, larkspur, and stock feeding the secret springs of 
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