THE LURE OF THE GARDEN 
yew hedges, and flower borders. Beech hedges, 
and a long green tunnel . . . nooks and corners 
and a grand, well-shaded tennis lawn, and, crown 
of all, the ‘Fantaisie,’ . . . where all my favorite 
flowers grow in wild profusion. . . .” 
Through the changing seasons we are led along the 
green paths and by the borders of this gracious garden, 
and watch each fresh addition and new blooming plant 
—a place of continual enjoyment, secure of sunshine 
through even the wildest of winter nights. 
There are other gardens in literature, built up entirely 
from fantasy and dream. Such an one is that where 
Rappaccini’s Daughter breathes in the subtle poisons 
with which she is so fatally charged. Of this garden we 
are told: “ There was the ruin of a marble fountain in 
the center, sculptured with rare art, but so wofully shat¬ 
tered that it was impossible to trace the original design 
from the chaos of remaining fragments. The water, how¬ 
ever, continued to gush and sparkle in the sunshine as 
cheerfully as ever . . . all about the pool into which the 
water subsided grew various plants, that seemed to re¬ 
quire a plentiful supply of moisture for the nourishment 
of gigantic leaves, and, in some instances, of flowers 
gorgeously magnificent. There was one shrub in partic¬ 
ular, set in a marble vase in the midst of the pool, that 
bore a profusion of purple blossoms, each of which had 
the lustre and richness of a gem ; and the whole together 
made a show so resplendant that it seemed enough to 
176 
