THE LURE OF THE GARDEN 
coloring actually vibrates in the sunlight; yet, framed 
as they are in spacious green, they do not clash with 
the distant prospect. A sensation of space, even of 
magnificence, is the controlling factor of the impression 
produced ; but the place lacks the intimate charm of 
the Gilders’ garden, or the one belonging to Miss Beaux, 
the sense of personal and loving supervision notable in 
them and in the Cornish places. 
This special spiritual quality, however, so difficult 
to define and yet so essential to the true garden, 
is by no means restricted to the small estates. Mrs. 
Gardiner’s place at Brookline is redolent of it, large as 
it is. Her Italian garden, inclosed within rose-hung 
walls of old brick and stucco, with its vine-grown per¬ 
gola, its antique statues, and the flaming splendor of its 
long beds, breathes this intimate charm, as does the 
spring garden, sheltered behind its high, cool hedges of 
evergreen, into whose fairy ring April and May bring 
all their fragrant wealth. And not only these seques¬ 
tered spots, but the wide-spreading lawns, the tree- 
honored drives, the great banks of rhododendron and 
sheets of iris, hold fast this garden soul, captured some¬ 
how and unmistakable, like music rendered by a great 
player, where feeling transcends technique while remain¬ 
ing firm-based upon it. 
The contrast between the gardens I have been de¬ 
scribing and others of their kind with the usual subur¬ 
ban abortion merits consideration. The difference is 
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