about two hundred yards away. It was elliptical in shape, with the
broad side facing the house some hundred feet away. Ihe entrance
was through a gate which always brought to the boy’s mind the
wicket gate in ‘‘Pilgrim’s Progress.” Pyrus or cydonia japonicas,
with their rich calico colors, grew on either side of this gate, and
almost met overhead. Walks, leading lengthwise through the cen¬
ter and across, gave access to different parts of the garden, while
borders for annuals and squares for tender plants abounded, con¬
venient for the mistress or her daughter to plant or tend, when they
chose to infringe upon the domain of Nat, the gardener.
As the fiery acanthus glowed along the far side of the garden,
the rose bushes shone as the most noted things within it. hey
weré everywhere in almost wild profusion—George the Fourth,
Giant of Battles, Hermosa, York, and Lancaster, damask and
tea roses, and even the Hundred Leaf and Microphylla. This one
came from Shirley, that from Cousin Anne at Hickory Hill, another
from York, and that from Aunt Nelson at Long Branch, or from
Cousin Thomasia at Mountain View. Cherished above them all,
were the Offley roses—only wild roses which still bloom on the
tenth day of each June. These came from the place of that name,
five miles away, so charmingly described by the Marquis de
Chastellux.
Lilacs, syringa, forsythia, bridal wreath, and spiraea ushered in
the spring with all their wealth of flowers, while violets, in cold
frames and borders, with hyacinths, delighted the eye. Jonquils
popping up in all directions gave the impression that the latter
must enjoy some special privilege to be thus breaking out of
bounds.
A little later came the snow-balls, and then the poppies, after
the peonies had gone. Sweet williams and wall-flowers; nastur¬
tium and alyssum; phlox and pinks—not then called carnations—
all had their place, while off in a moist quarter were gladioll
and lilies of the valley, about which Philip Pendleton Cooke wrote
in ‘Florence Vane.”’