u The Orchard" at Southampton , L. I. 
to enclose a world of one’s own. It is more 
fitting tor endless rows of vanishing cabbages 
than the retreats and hidden shady nooks 
and walks of the ideal pleasure garden. Thus 
it loses what is due it in effectiveness, though 
the bravery ot the undertaking on the part 
ot the owner is none the less admirable. I'he 
question rises very naturally, how feasible is 
any attempt at more extensive formal garden¬ 
ing in a pancake landscape. The luster of 
the morning 
as well as the 
shadows of 
the evening 
can certainly 
be put down 
as valuable 
capital at the 
beginning ot 
the undertak¬ 
ing; but be¬ 
yond the m 
there is very 
little stimulus 
to the planting imagination, similar to that 
which made Horace Walpole’s run riot, when 
he first gazed from Richmond to Twickenham 
across the lawn “set in enamelled meadows 
with filigree hedges all about.” One ought 
not to expect the magnificent vistas of Italy 
to break upon one, though one comes very 
near to them in some of the effects produced 
in recently finished gardens of New Hamp¬ 
shire ; but one ought to have some background. 
David’s en¬ 
couraging re¬ 
mark to the 
painter, who 
asked what 
was the matter 
with his pic¬ 
ture II manque 
le cadre , one 
feels the truth 
of in the 
Southampton 
garden land¬ 
scape. 
126 
