36 
JOURNAL  OF  HORTICULTURE  AND  COTTAGE  GARDENER, 
January  9,  1902. 
Garden  Design. 
The  gardener’s  mind  is  many  times  much  exercised  with  plans 
for  altering,  beautifying,  or  extending  the  design  of  the  garden 
he  superintends.  The  subject  of  garden  design  is  fascinating,  and 
though  one  must  bear  in  patience  with  the  ardent  apostles  of  the 
landscape  gardening  school  on  the  O'ne  hand,  and  those  of  the 
formal  (some  of  them  object  to  the  use  of  this  word)  on  the  other, 
yet  it  is  well  to  read  or  listen  to  what  each  side  has  to  say,  and, 
where  it  is  possible  to  do  so,  the  designer  of  a  garden  should 
borrow  considerably  from  each  set  of  ideas  and  systems.  Though 
we  are  confined  to  these  passing  remarks  in  introducing  the 
reader  to  a  notice  of  the  opposite  illustration,  the  subject  is  one 
that  we  have  in  view  for  further  consideration.  The  picture  on 
page  37  shows  the  beautiful  effect  of  placid  water  in  the  kept 
grounds,  and  over-shadowed  by  noble  trees.  On  the  left  the 
formal,  architectural  element,  in  the  shape  of  a  flight  of  steps, 
enters  into  the  composition.  The  edge  of  the  lake,  too,  is  even, 
and  smooth  grass-banks  rise  backward  from  them.  Beyond  this 
is  a  rosery,  which,  too,  is  perhaps  more  studied  in  its  manner  of 
arrangement  than  Mr.  William  Robinson  would  commend ;  yet, 
taken  as  a  whole,  is  it  not  a  verv  beautiful  portion  of  a  garden  ? 
We  think  so,  and  perhaps  the  scene  will  afford  suggestions  to 
those  who  are  now  busy  remodelling,  or  about  to  re-design,  their 
gardens.  The  rosery  is  one  that  existed  at  Ilford,  very  close 
to  London. 
Some  Typical  Gardens. 
I.—The  Manor  House. 
I  write  as  a  countryman,  bom  and  bred  amongst  mstic 
surroundings,  and  closely  connected  with  gardens  and  gar¬ 
deners.  Indeed,  gardening  is  so  inseparably  a  part  of  mral 
life,  that  without  it  the  greatest  charm  of  the  country  would 
be  gone.  It  is  bound  by  no  laws  of  class  or  distinction,  and 
ha"s  attractions  for  rich  and  poor  alike.  Even  within  the 
limits  of  one  parish  there  are  gardens  possessing  characteris¬ 
tics  sufficiently  varied  to  provide  ample  food  for  observa¬ 
tion,  and  while  the  types  I  shall  select  in  this  short  series 
are  illustrations  of  actual  specimens,  they  differ  only  in 
.details  from  hundreds  of  others  scattered  over  this  fair  land. 
Without  further  introduction,  then,  let  me  start  with  the 
home  of  the  Lord  of  the  Manor. 
Past  the  village  church,  and  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
along  the  Kmg’s  highway,  there  is  a  break  in  the  hedge, 
and  a  big  swinging  gate  guards  the  entrance  of  the  carriage 
drive  that  leads  off  at  right  angles.  The  gate  is  in  turn 
guarded  by  a  pretty  little  lodge,  which  peeps  out  from  a 
canopy  of  overhanging  foliage,  and  every  time  the  gate 
swings  on  its  hinges  a  buxom  white-aproned  figure  appears 
on  the  doorstep,  who  apparently  controls  the  whole  concern. 
Woe  be  to  any  suspicious-looking  individual  who  attempts  to 
pass  this  barrier  unchallenged,  blit  the  lodge-keeper  is  a 
student  of  character,  and,  if  satisfied  that  your  business  is 
legitimate,  she  nods  a  pleasant  ‘‘Good  Morning!”  and  is 
never  loth  to  discuss  the  “  tree  pots  ”  in  the  window,  and 
the  bright  border  of  flowers  beneath. 
Away  winds  the  road,  delightfully  shaded  in  the  summer 
by  the  avenue  of  trees  through  which  it  passes,  and  leading, 
by  its  own  peculiar  right  of  way,  through  an  undulating 
stretch  of  park  scenery,  it  brings  you  by  a  subtle  sweep  past 
the  end  of  a  game  covert,  right  in  front  of  the  Manor  house. 
I  don’t  know  who  planned  the  drive,  but  he  was  master  of 
his  business,  and  the  individual  wno  was  responsible  for 
planting  the  avenue  perpetuated  his  own  memory  in  the  act. 
The  house  itself  is  not  pretentious  in  proportions  or  grand 
in  character.  It  is  a  comfortable-looking  Elizabethan  stmc- 
ture,  rather  rambling,  and  obviously  ancient.  It  hardly 
looks  as  if  it  had  been  built,  but  appears  as  though  it  had 
grown  there  like  the  trees  in  the  park,  so  perfectly  is  it  at 
home  with  the  surroundings.  It  seems  shut  away  from  the 
world,  and  yet  it  stands  in  the  midst  of  a  little  world  of 
its  own  making,  and  governs  it  unquestionably.  A  breadth 
of  velvety  lawn  stretches  away  from  the  windows,  and  loses 
itself  in  the  park,  with  no  barrier  but  a  sunk  fence  to  divide 
them.  There  are  the  orthodox  flower  beds  in  front,  but 
not  too  many  of  them,  and  easy  curves  t?ike  the  jilace,  of 
straight  lines  and  acute  angles.  The  lawn  is  worth  spending 
a  few  minutes  on,  if  it  is  only  for  the  purpose  of  setting 
your  watch  by  the  sundial  on  the  moss-covered  pedestal  that 
stood  there  no  one  knows  how  long.  To  the  left  there  is  a 
weeping  Ash,  with  branches  drooping  to  the  ground.  What 
a  spot  for  afternoon  tea,,  to  be  sure  1  A  little  further  on 
there  is  the  remaining  half  of  an  old  Mulberry  tree.  The 
other  part  succumbed  to  a  gale,  and  what  is  left  is  supported 
with  props,  bound  with  chains,  and  bandaged  with  copper 
plates.  But  the  old  tree  is  one  of  the  family  heirlooms,  as 
it  has  a  connection  with  Lords  of  the  Manor  long  since 
departed.  A  gnarled  Acacia  occupies  a  conspicuous  site 
of  its  own,  and  one  of  the  features  of  the  lawn  is  nothing 
more  than  a  common  Hawthorn.  It  might  have  grown  in  a 
hedgerow  once,  but  it  is  a  grand  specimen  now,  and  worthy 
of  its  honoured  position. 
Round  the  corner  of  the  house  there  is  a  glimpse  to  be 
had  of  the  river,  meandering  along  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away.  Timber  in  front,  water  behind — what  a  combination  ! 
Almost  without  lowing  it,  you  find  yourself  in  quite  a  dis¬ 
tinct  little  garden.  It  is  surrounded  by  tall  Yew  hedges, 
closely  clipped,  and  there  are  fantastically  cut  figures  here 
and  there.  Topiary  work,  you  say,  and  turn  your  nose  up. 
I  sympathise  with  you ;  but  in  the  Manor  gardens  it  is  not 
out  of  character,  and  connects  one  with  a  past  school  of 
gardening,  which  was  as  thorough,  if  not  quite  so  up  to  date, 
as  the  present.  If  for  no  other  reason  than  their  old  associa¬ 
tion,  the  Yews  are  clipped  year  by  year,  and  the  shape  of 
the  figures  kept  clearly  defined,  in  spite  of  what  critics 
may  gay. 
A  little  further  on  is  the  Rose  garden ;  but  there  is  no 
standing  still  in  the  way  of  Roses.  There  are  the  old  loves^ 
the  York  and  Lancasters,  and  the  Cabbage  Rose  of  other 
days,  but  mingled  amongst  the  ancient  are  the  modem— 
Teas  and  H.P.’s  of  recent  introduction,  and  a  Crimson 
Rambler  climbs  luxuriantly  over  an  old  tree  stump.  There 
are  shrubberies,  of  course,  for  every  old  garden  possesses 
them,  with  patches  of  turf,  borders  containing  old-fashioned 
flowers  that  seem  to  be  always  blooming,  and  rustic  seats 
in  quiet  spots  that  are  suggestive  of  lovers.  In  short,  it 
is  a  garden  where  the  children  can  play  hide  and  seek,  with 
no  difficulty  about  the  hiding.  There  are  no  tiring  terraces 
and  broad,  straight  walks  ;  but  the  place  is  suggestive  of 
rest,  and  the  winding  paths  that  lead  apparently  nowhere 
have  little  surprises  for  you  at  every  turn. 
One  of  these  ends  where  a  doorway  is  set  in  a  high  wall 
somewhere  at  the  back  of  the  Manor,  but  hidden  from  it,  ^d 
yet  quite  close.  Inside  that  wall  is  the  select  domain  of 
the  gardener,  where  he  grows  his  fruit,  vegetables,  and  some 
of  the  flowers  for  the  household  supply.  This  appearance  is 
in  keeping  with  the  place,  for  his  hair  is  whitened  by  forty 
years’  service,  and  if  anybody  knows  the  ins  and  oiits  of 
the  establishment,  and  the  family  that  owns  it,  this  is  the 
man.  In  the  district  he  commands  the  respect  due  to  the 
head  gardener  at  the  Manor,  and  is  in  much  request  in  the 
summer  for  judging  at  local  shows,  where  his  decisions  are 
unquestioned.  I  doubt  whether  any  power  on  earth  could 
persuade  him  to  take  a  holiday  beyond  a  day,  and  how  the 
general  world  of  horticulture  wags,  appears  to  he  no  concern 
of  his.  His  world  is  the  Manor  gardens,  and  he  is  quite 
content  with  it.  He  grumbles  a  bit  sometimes,  because  the 
glass  is  not  quite  suited  to  modem  requirements,  and  fruit 
trees  have  a  knack  of  growing  old.  Still,  he  makes  the  best 
of  them,  and  the  thick,  old,  knotted  canes  in  the  ancient 
vinery  produce  Grapes  that  would  do  credit  to  themselves 
on  any  show  board. 
But  if  the  ^it  trees  are  old,  they  have  testimony  to 
bear.  The  ancient  Pears  on  the  walls,  with  their  great,  thick 
limbs,  are  living  illustrations  of  the  skill  of  a  past  race  of 
gardeners.  Not  a  foot  of  space  is  wasted ;  every  branch  is 
trained  in  sjunmetrical  form  and  equi-distant  from  its  neigh¬ 
bour.  You  may  see  where  a  vacant  space  has  been  filled  by 
grafting  a  branch  on  to  the  main  stem  and  training  it  in. 
“  They  don’t  bear  as  well  as  they  used  to,”  the  old  gardener 
savs.  but  they  produce  fine  fruit  still  ;  and  removal  must 
not  be  hinted  at,  as  they  are  looked  on  almost  as  members 
of  the  family.  Certainly  they  are  object  lessons  to  any 
young  gardener  who  requires  initiating  in  the  art  of  training 
fmit  trees.  The  kitchen  garden  is,  like  hundreds  of  others, 
laid  out  in  square  quarters,  -with  a  herbaceous  border  down 
the  centre.  Espalier  Apples  and  pyramid  Pears  run  parallel 
with  the  walks,^  and  though  they  bear  the  traces  of  severe 
.pruqing,  there  is  no  lack  of  fmit  spurs.  The  south  border 
