March, 1915 
HOUSE AND GARDEN 
163 
grass from entirely overrunning the place. My big brothers used 
to tell us that this horse was fed on barrel hoops, as we might 
plainly see when we looked at his sides, and we, in our youthful 
simplicity, believed it. 
I remember going up the side steps of this house when I was a 
little girl and knocking timidly at the door when I was sent there 
on an errand, and the greeting that I met was like everything 
about the place — cold and formal. The glimpse of the interior, 
showing plain, white walls, unpapered throughout; no pictures 
anywhere; no draperies; no little home touches, made me long to 
hurry away much faster than I had come. So the place held for 
its crawly arms over the eaves and onto the very roof itself. 
I went often to admire this spot during my stay in Oldham. I 
was irresistibly drawn to it, not only because of its beauty and 
restfulness, but because of the fact that 1 was interested in seeing 
how much had been done to transform an ugly, uninteresting spot 
into a lovely one. It was so impressed upon me that I was con¬ 
stantly in a state of wonderment and surprise. Then, too, it was 
interesting and delightful to meet the ones who had transformed 
it and to go away with a sweet, happy memory of the place that 
long ago gave me an almost uncanny feeling. 
Only half a block away from a noisy, dusty business street one 
It was in the backyard that the clothes drier used to be, its long arms always ready for a swing. Now a bird bath stands there, and orioles and blue birds banter where the 
children would swing. There’s a matrimony over the back door, too 
many years for 11s all a memory full of mystery, dread and fear. 
Imagine my surprise when, on going back to the little town of 
Oldham last summer, I found this place a most attractive one 
and the house full of charm. The youngest son of the family 
had married, and, full of the right kind of sentiment, had bought 
the old home and made it so inviting and comfortable that I found 
it hard to believe it the place of long ago. Yet there was the 
same little brick wall, not overgrown as it used to be, but well 
kept in every way. There, too, was the syringa bush near the 
side porch, now grown 'way above the second-story windows, and 
a mass of white blossoms when I saw it in June. The white 
lilac bush near the front steps was a real lilac tree, and a beautiful 
trumpet vine partly covered the south side of the house and ran 
found this fresh, attractive yard, and it was all the more at¬ 
tractive because of the great contrast, perhaps. A yard 76 by 
120 feet; houses very near, and shops not far away, and yet the 
spot was full of blooming shrubs and plants; birds were singing 
all the day, building their nests and rearing their young in safety. 
There were bird houses provided, two birds’ baths and many 
fruit-bearing trees and shrubs and the different members of the 
family were on the lookout constantly for enemies of the birds. 
Cats and English sparrows were not cordially received. In fact, 
an air gun was often called into action. 
I am going to tell you in detail about the making over of this 
yard, to show any incredulous city person who feels that it cannot 
be done, that it is a possibility and a very successful one. 
