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Tae “PoToMact: AN DORAPPATHANNOC K _ —_ ee — = = = Sa a ginia hilltop. A forest of dainty white blossoms is massed on each side of the house on the west. Countless numbers of minlature roses they appear. On the east an avenue of the same shrub meets the privet hedge, still other avenues of snowy-white blossoms extend to the tangle of roses and honeysuckle, near the vegetable garden. Then, when summer comes, shrubs and flowers sparkle in their gorgeous colors. There are masses of weigela, summer lilacs, phlox, clematis, and calycanthus. Roses, iris, and other gay perennials vie with each other in color and fragrance. [hey dot the emerald lawn, some in the blazing summer sunshine, others in the softened shade of the mimosa and the fir trees. Between the flowering quince and the euonymus bush is sunk the shallow, concrete bath forthe birds. With hearts filled full of the joy of living, they chatter over their daily splash. Bees are lazily droning out their same old summer song. Butterflies are flirting with their favorite flowers. The timid squirrel peeps from the blossoming shrubbery; but, like a flash, he is safe in the tall treetop. All nature is in tune with the season. If the Battailes and Gordons of the olden days at Prospect Hill were ambitious for the future of the loved old garden, their brightest hopes are realized. At every season it is one of the loveliest in all this section of beautiful garden spots. Dora C. JETT. P2331
