OFFICE 
Vol. XXVII — No. 4 
April, 1915 
g BEING THE LAND THAT MANY OF US CANNOT GO BACK TO SEE—THE LAND WHERE THE |§ 
g CHILDREN PLAYED THAT WE USED TO BE, WHERE GREW THE FLOWERS THAT HAVE A jg 
= PLACE IN THE HEART = 
Fanny Sage Stone 
Photographs by R. L. Warner 
UST the sight of a sweet briar 
rose brought it all back to me. 
My thoughts had been busy with 
shopping lists and plans for the 
day, as I rode into the city on the 
elevated train. At one of the sta¬ 
tions I glanced up to see a dear, 
little old lady taking a seat near 
me, and on her coat was pinned a 
sweet briar rose. She loved it. 
1 knew from the way she wore it 
and the tender look she gave it 
occasionally, and when she took 
off her coat, how carefully she 
folded it that the rose might have a safe place! Then I fell 
to wondering where the rose grew, and soon I forgot the 
little, old lady and her rose and 1 was a child again — happy 
and free in Grandmother’s garden. 
It was there where I first knew and loved the sweet briar 
rose: in Grandmother's garden, the place that was really 
paradise to us as children. 
Fortunate, indeed, is the child who has such a start in 
life. For, ever after there comes to her a greater love and 
appreciation of nature and of all out-of-door things. 
Every season was interesting in that old garden. Even 
at Christmas time one of the most fascinating spots was the 
one where we knelt and pushed away the snow to peep under 
the protecting branches and find the blossoms of the Christ- 
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