THE LURE OF THE GARDEN 
one is grouped about on rugs and in wicker chairs, 
or playing at bowls or croquet. When the neigh¬ 
borhood friends drop in on horseback, or in pony-chaise, 
hailing each other cheerily, coming and going with the 
utmost informality, lending a hand in the games, crowd¬ 
ing to the tea-table. An M. P. just up from London, 
hastily changed to the flannels consecrated to the coun¬ 
try, with a cup of tea in one hand and a racket in the 
other, stops to talk eagerly — not of politics, but of the 
new rose-bed he has set out, or a breed of dogs he is 
improving. Near by a group of women are discussing 
the suffragette situation with a couple of literary men, 
or a party on the river is being planned. The groups 
mingle, dissolve, form new combinations, wander away 
in pairs, or depart singly on various errands bent. An 
ease, an informality impossible within the walls of a 
house obtains in these gardens, gardens valued as highly 
as the old family portraits, dating back very often as far 
as the family history itself, and perfectly suited to the 
requirements of the people who love and live in them. 
This feeling for the garden as a social factor undoubt¬ 
edly exists in America, but in England it is general; 
hardly a cottage but has its little bit of flower and vine, 
its wall overgrown with ivy and sweet with wall-flowers, 
where the family may sit toward evening as undisturbed 
by outside intrusion as the people at the manor-house. 
In France and Italy, too, the poorer portion of the popu¬ 
lation have this love of gardens. Whenever possible 
9 s 
