Oldal 98 [98]
Lae VAMES, NIVER PVANTATION BELT
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garden shrubbery. Included in the garden boundaries are the re¬
mains of the old Confederate rampart. Fruit trees, flowers and
vegetables mingle and blend in friendly harmony. Straight and
direct paths are bordered with roses and perennials which look
happy and luxuriant.
On the day of our visit, a border of fig trees was profligately
laden with fruit. The mistress of the garden told us she had been
preserving figs all day and the supply seemed undiminished. ‘This
is the way of the happy fig tree. One of the visitors from a north¬
ern clime was enraptured to be invited to gather as many ripe figs
as she wished. “I have never seen anything like it,” she said. “Of
course, | have seen fig trees when I was in New Orleans covered
with bloom, but I never saw them in full fruit before." We
smilingly told her that these fig trees had never bloomed, and that
no other fig tree anywhere would be guilty of so flaunting and dar¬
ing a thing as bursting into full bloom, unless, perhaps, that rare
variety she had seen in New Orleans.
On the outskirts of the garden, near the little iron entrance gate,
is a clump of poet’s laurel, Semele Androgyna, a daughter plant of
"Laurel of Westover.”’ Ihe glossy evergreen leaves and red ber¬
ries made this a favorite evergreen of old-time gardens. The steep
river bank, which slopes from the lawn, is covered with tartarian
honeysuckle, crepe myrtle and clumps of evergreens; among these
and around the summit is a clump of Scotch broom brought over
from Scotland in 1790 by a friend, Mr. Robertson.
Following the rim of the bluff we come to the rustic cedar
summer-house at the head of the steps that lead down to the boat
landing. A straight, arbored pathway, bordered with shrubs, leads
from here back to the house, and around the corner we catch a
glimpse of a tall pear tree, planted more than one hundred years
ago and still bearing generously. It nods to us in the breeze; we
feel friendly and at home. Let us tarry a while in the summer
arbor, listen to the sweet sounds of birds, watch a strange insect
outline Japanesque tracery underneath the bark of the cedar post,
L59]