The Washington herald., 1907-06-16

and women fell naturally into two great
divisions: those who had gardens and
thoss who had only houses.
Brick walls and pavements hemmed me
in and robbed me Of my birthrights; and
70 the fancy OF childhood a garden was a
paradise, and the people who had gardens
were happy Adams and Ewes walking in
golden mist of sunshine and showers,
with green leaves and blue sky overhead.
and blossoms springing al their feet;
while those others. dispossessed of life s
springs, summers. autumns, appeared
darkly entombed in shops and parlors
where the year might as we'll have been
a perpetual winter
As grew older I learned that there
was a small subclass composed Of people
who not only possessed gardens, but
whose gardens possessed them. and it is
the spots sown and and tended by these
that blossom eternally in ones remem-
brance as veritable vailimas-" gardens Of
dreams"
In every ones mind there Is a lonely
space. almost abandoned Of consciousness,
the time between infancy and childhood,
Il IS like that period when the earth
was without form, and void; and dark
ness was upon the face Of the deep
Here, like lost stars floating in the
armament Of mind, viii be found two or
three faint memories. remote and dis
connected. With ne one Of these mem
orles is Of q garden. I was riding with
my father along a pleasant country road.
There were sunshine and a gentle wind
and white clouds in a blue sky. We
stopped at a gate. Ny father opened II,
and I walked I'D a grassy path 20 the
ruins of a house. The chimney was still
standing, but all the rest was a heap Of
blockened half-burned rubbish which
spring and summer were covering with
wild vines and weeds, and around the
ruins Of the house lay the ruins Of
the garden The honeysuckle. bereft
Of its trallis. wandered helplessly over
the ground. and amid a rank growth
Of weeds sprang a host Of yellow snap
dragons. I remember the feeling Of rap
ture that was mine at the thought that
I had found q garden where flowers
could be gathered without asking permis-
sion Of any one. And as long as I live,
the sight Of a yellow snapdragon on a
sunny day will bring back my father from
Is grave and make me a little child again
gathering flowers in that deserted garden.
which is seemingly in another world than
this.
A later memory than this Is Of a place
that was scarcely more than paved
court lying between high brick walls
But because We children wanted garden
so much. We called it by that name; and
here and there a little Of Mother Earth's
bosom. left uncovered, gave us some
warrant for the misnomer. Yet the spot
was not without It's beauties. and a less
exacting child might have found content
within its boundaries.
Here was the Indian peach tree. whose
pink blossoms told US that spring had
come. Its fruit in The late summer was
like the pomegranate in its rich color.
"olood-unctured with a veined human
ity,' and its friendly limbs held swing
in which We cleft the air like the birds.
Yet even now the sight Of an Indian
peach brings melancholy thoughts. A
yellow honeysuckIe clambered over
wall But this flower has no perfume.
and a honeysuc5le without perfume is
a base pTetender, to be cast out Of the
family Of real sweet-scented honeysuckle.
There were two roses Of similar quality.
one that detestable mockery known as
the burr-rose. have for this flower the
feeling Of rspusion that one has for
certain disagreeable human beings
people with cold. clammv hands. for
instance. I hated its feeble pink color
its rough calyz. and its odor always
made me think Of vast fields Of snow. and
icicles hanging from snow-c9vered roofs
under leaden Wintry skies. Unhappy mis-
take 10 call such a thing a rose. and
plant il I'm a Childs garden, The only
place where it might ftIy grow is by
the side Of the road that led Chide
Roland 20 the dark tower. between the
bit Of "stubbed ground and the marsh
near 10 the "paisied oak, with It's roots
set in the bog, clay. and rubble. sand
and stark black daarth."
The other rose I recall with the same
dislike though it was pleasing TO the
eve The bush.wa tail. and had the
nature Of a climber. for It dropped in
a ,acBadaisical way, and had TO be tied
to a stout post. I think IL could have
stood upright had it chosen to do so;
@ r-1
habit, without grace The Cream-white
flowers grew in clusters. and the buds
were really beautiful but color and form
are only the body Of the rose. the soul.
the real self. is the rose door. and no
rosc-soul was incaruated in its petals
Again and again. deceived by its beauty.
/ would hold II close 70 my face TO
breathe Its fragrance, and alwavs its
faint sickeni1g-sweet odor brought me
only disappointment and disgust. Il was
q Lamia among roses. Another peculiar
ity was that e. had very few thorns, and
those few were small and weak. Yet
the thorn Is rs much a part OF the true
rose as its sweetness and lacking the
rose thorn and the rose perfume. what
claim had IL to the rose name? I never
saw this false rose elsewhere than in
Il.- 4alA~e E'Al It-i- anu UeLause IL grew
there. and because it dishonored its royal
family, I would not willingly meet it
face 70 face again.
We children cultivated sweet-scented
Ecraniums in pots, but q flower in a
pot was 10 me liko a bird in a cage. and
the fragrant geraniums gave me no more
pleasure than did tho scentless many
hUed lady s-slippers that We planted In
ting borders. and the purple Towering
beans aad white blossoms Of the madeira
vines that grew on tall trellis by the
Cistern's grassy mound. There wss
nothing here to satisfy my longing, and
] ;grned hunsr.ly to other gardens whose
gates were open to ne in those early
days. In one Of thess was a vast bed
Of purple hcartsease. flower Of the beauu-
fgl name. Year after yehr they had bios
s0med and gone TO seed till the harvest
OF flowers ia their season was past
gathering. and any child in the nejghhor.
hood was at liberty TO pluck them by