plenty of docile and intelligent labor at command. Ovals, squares
and circles were masses of color and fragrance, adding beauty and
delight to the beloved homes.
In the bowered and perfumed privacy of these gardens, secluded
from the world by miles of distance and density of woodland, lived
those great makers of American history. Gone are some of their
gardens, but who shall say what influence for serenity and right
judgment and clear-cut honesty and dauntless courage were derived .
from the lovely gardens and quiet and inspiring surroundings of
their youth and manhood!
At Stratford the mind is turned inevitably to the childhood
there of Robert E. Lee, a handsome little boy, with his invalid
mother, going from house to garden around the box-edged flower
bed; and then on to the after years when that tall stately form, not
wearing the robes of a conqueror, was homeless. From within a
heart burdened with sorrows—not his own—rose a longing for the
first home he had known, and he wrote, on Christmas Day of 1861,
in a letter to his daughter, after Arlington had been taken from him,
‘In the absence of a home, I wish I could purchase Stratford.”
So passed that grand figure into history, leaving to us the rich
legacy of his high ideals of right and duty, leaving to us, also,
Stratford House, his birthplace, of which we can, with loving
and justified pride, quote the Psalmist, “the Lord shall count when
He writeth up the people that this man was born there.