H ouse and Garden 
fore the latter, and it is chiefly distinguished 
by virtue of its commanding situation. The 
ground falls steeply away from it in all di¬ 
rections but one, and in that, a short reach 
of lawn stretches toward another, enclosed, 
and called the “bowling green.” Low stone 
walls here indicate a vestibule to the richer 
design beyond, and a tew fruit trees scatter 
the sunlight over an easy and undulating area 
of turf, which otherwise would be a garish 
place wherein to rest on the shapely stone 
seats ranged 
along the 
boundary on 
eitherside. Be¬ 
yond is a dense 
pin e turn, or 
grove of coni¬ 
fers, and curv¬ 
ing into the 
edge of it an 
exedra, equi¬ 
distant from 
two trees be¬ 
hind, which 
gave the hint 
tor its position. 
On a pedestal 
dividing the 
seat stands an 
ancient Roman 
terminal figure. 
From this 
outdoor apart¬ 
ment, where 
fancy has been 
held in check 
upon subdued 
arrangements 
and colors, two 
walks lead 
through a grove to the garden beyond. 
These debouch upon terraces that overlook 
a realm of surpassing loveliness in the form 
of a square—of all shapes for gardens the 
oldest. Outside the walls a summer wind 
tosses the tops of the few trees ; within is a 
reign of silence in a lap of flowers. The 
air of a new land plays upon ornaments of 
stone and marble, arrived age-worn from the 
service of Old World gardens to give majes¬ 
tic emphasis to the new. Those huge urns 
at the toot of the terrace steps below us have 
come from the Ludovisi Garden in the Eternal 
City,and their mellow color and weather-beaten 
surfaces mock at the newness of “Weld’s” 
staunch masonry reared to protect them and 
defy time as they themselves have defied it. 
Antique termini stand sentries to walks, and 
along the sides of these same footways of 
gray and finely broken stone, old columns, far- 
parted from the burdens they were made to 
bear, hold swinging garlands ot vine. Mas¬ 
sive flower jars, carved by Latin hands, 
grace the step¬ 
ping ascents of 
balustrades; 
and there in 
the center ot a 
parapet is an 
old Venetian 
well-curb with 
an antique iron 
over - gear, 
ready to swing 
a pail into the 
shaft below, 
whence a form¬ 
er owner of the 
hill drew his 
only supply of 
water. That 
owner’s name is 
now the name 
of the garden. 
The terraces 
reached from 
the grove are 
terminated at 
the outer ends 
by gazebos. If 
permitted by a 
supercilious 
p arro t, who 
lords it from his perch under one of them, we 
may enter one ot these pavilions and, turning 
a right angle, proceed at the same level as 
before along a broad, raised terrace, which 
is both a boundary of the garden and the 
verge of the hillside. These promenades, 
recalling the medieval pleasance, proclaim the 
rare site afar. Persons walking here are the 
garden’s only sign of life from the vale be¬ 
low, while they view a distant panorama with 
the help of brass arrows, attached to the bal¬ 
ustrade and pointing to Minot’s, Boston, and 
THE DESCENT TO THE GARDEN FROM THE GROVE 
IO9 
