411-12, of Madame Guyon's LETTRES CHRETIENNES ET SPIRITUELLES sur divers Sujets qui regardent La Vie Interieure, ou L'esprit du vrai Christianisme--enrichie de la Correspondance secrette de MR.
"I've only seen undergardeners and Ben Weatherstaff."
There were the walls with their broken plaster, showing the laths underneath, with here and there, over them, sketches with burnt coal, showing that her predecessor had been an artist in his way,--his name, P. Teagarden, emblazoned on the ceiling with the smoke of a candle; heaps of hanks of yarn in the dusty corners; a half-used broom; other heaps of yarn on the old toppling desk covered with dust; a raisin-box, with P. Teagarden done on the lid in bas-relief, half full of ends of cigars, a pack of cards, and a rotten apple.
To the Stockholm born they speak of their daily life and surroundings, of the green isles and shady banks of the Malar, the flowery woods of Haga, the smiling park of Dijurgarden.
We know that it stands ungardened on the cliff and has a great view.
Into these holes the slugs will retreat during the day, and they may be killed there by dropping in a little salt, quicklime in powder, or by strong lime and water.--Gardener's Mag.
Evlin Bloomgarden Dworkin (C of S. Bloomgarden); 17Sep54; R136085.
A low wall and a few feet of barren garden divide the Parsonage from the graveyard, a few feet between the door of the house and the door in the wall where its dead were carried through.
He procured from the king a rocky plateau on the edge of a royal park known as Djurgarden, covered with crippled pines and resembling the wild, uncultivated, neglected landscape in Dalecaria or Norrland, the two most interesting portions of Sweden.
He's walking in the garden- thus, and spurns The rush that lies before him; cries 'Fool Lepidus!'
I shouldn't be on my way home; I'd be down in this garden--."
Proserpine "forgets the earth her mother" and goes to her "bloomless" garden:-- "And spring and seed and swallow Take wing for her and follow Where summer song rings hollow And flowers are put to scorn."
XV Twin horns from his forehead shot up to the moon, Like a branching stag in Arden; Dusk wings through his shoulders with eagle's strength Push'd out; and his train lay floundering in length An acre beyond the garden.-- XVI To tender hearts I have framed my lay-- Judge ye, all love-sick Maidens, When the virgin saw in the soft moonlight, In his proper proportions, her own true knight, If she needed long persuadings.
As an example of Mrs. Hemans' treatment of sacred subjects, we may quote the concluding verses of "Christ's Agony in the Garden":-- "He knew them all--the doubt, the strife, The faint perplexing dread, The mists that hang o'er parting life, All darkened round His head; And the Deliverer knelt to pray, Yet passed it not, that cup, away.
He seemed to see her graceful figure gazed at by a brutal crowd, while the auctioneer assured them that she was warranted to be an entirely new and perfectly sound article,--a moss rosebud from a private royal garden,--a diamond fit for a king's crown.
It is bad enough in England; but any one who wishes to enjoy it to perfection had better take a drive from Stirling, crossing the Forth, when, if he select his road happily, he may have the satisfaction of paying half-a-dozen tolls in nearly as many minutes, on the plea that this piece of ground, the size of a cocked-hat-box,--and that piece, the size of a cabbage-garden,--and so on, belong to different counties; and his amusement may derive additional zest if he be fortunate enough to find the same tollman there whom I met some years ago.
As it is, like exotic plants, their mixture with the natives ones, I hope, adds beauty to my Botanic Garden:--and such as it is, Mr. Bookseller, I now leave it to you to desire the Ladies and Gentlemen to walk in; but please to apprize them, that, like the spectators at an unskilful exhibition in some village-barn, I hope they will make Good-humour one of their party; and thus theirselves supply the defects of the representation.
As they were going into the laundry, Father Richmond came out of the house, and stopped to point out to the Colonel a snow-covered enclosure--"the Sisters' garden"--and he told how marvellously, in the brief summer, some of the hardier vegetables flourished there.
The knotted thread which breaks if pulled too impatiently; the dropped stitches that make rough, uneven places in the pattern; the sail which was wrongly placed and will not propel the boat; the pile of withered leaves which was not removed, and which the wind scattered over the garden,--are not all these concrete moral lessons in patience, accuracy, and carefulness?
But"--he finished whimsically, looking from the window into the garden--"but what the devil do you suppose the spirit who lives out there will think about it all."
On the banks of the Seine and the Loire, near the great forests, in all the departments near Paris there are quantities of chateaux--some just on the border of the highroad, separated from it by high iron gates, through which one sees long winding alleys with stone benches and vases with red geraniums planted in them, a sun-dial and stiff formal rows of trees--some less pretentious with merely an ordinary wooden gate, generally open, and always flowers of the simplest kind, geraniums, sunflowers, pinks, dahlias, and chrysanthemums--what we call a jardin de cure, (curate's garden)--but in great abundance.
I think I have said enough to cause my lady readers to wish that the time may not be far distant when they may, like ourselves,--for we did all sorts of "odd jobs" in our garden,--cut their own asparagus, and assist in gathering their own peas.
Paris, upspringing white and gold: Flamboyant arch and high-enscrolled War-sculpture, big, Napoleonic -- Fierce chargers, angels histrionic; The royal sweep of gardened spaces, The pomp and whirl of columned Places; The Rive Gauche, age-old, gay and gray; The impasse and the loved cafe; The tempting tidy little shops; The convent walls, the glimpsed tree-tops; Book-stalls, old men like dwarfs in plays; Talk, work, and Latin Quarter ways.
There is in "Mr. Gilfil's Story" a gardener of the name of Bates, who is described as a Yorkshireman, and in "Adam Bede" there is another gardener, Mr. Craig, whose name would naturally indicate a Scotchman.
This was not the gardener;--and there was neither man, woman, nor child in sight, during the swift run;--no freeman; but a prisoner in an upper room of the prison.
I think the fruit-gardeners there are now don't succeed as well as the Carthusians used to do.
Erick's eyes grew larger and larger with astonishment and expectation, for he only now comprehended, what he was going to meet: all that had stood before his mental eyes as the highest and most splendid, ever since he could think, and that his mother had painted for him in the bright coloring of her childhood's remembrances, again and again, the distant, beautiful estate, the handsome horses, the pond with the barge, the large house with the winter-garden,--everything he was now to see, and live there with this grandfather, for whom his mother had planted such a love and reverence in her boy's heart, that he saw in him the highest of what could be found on this earth,--all this over-powered Erick so much that he was not able to comprehend his good fortune, and with a deep breath he asked: "Are you sure, Grandfather?"
So we went the rounds of the garden,--frightening a mocking-bird off her nest in an orange-tree,--till my hands were full.
He saw the great folk bowing like a gardenful of flowers in a storm, and in its midst Elizabeth erect, speaking to those about her in a lively and good-humored way, and addressing all the foreigners according to their tongue--in French, Italian, Spanish, Dutch; but hers was funny Dutch, and while she spoke she smiled and made a joke upon it in Latin, at which they all laughed heartily, whether they understood what it meant or not.
I could hardly avoid the impression that he must know what I had done, and would accuse me of it; and when he met me in the yard at his door; patted my cheek with a half-laughing, half-reproving look; asked why I had stayed away from him so long; and said, that, to punish me, he should go and get me some very nice apples from the garden;--I could bear it no longer.
She took the artificial gardenia and put it away in a safe place, after she had kissed it; and she wondered when she remembered how she had blushed last night when Bosio kissed her that once--that only once that ever was to be.
Patricia looked in vain for her grandiose plush-covered chairs, her immaculate "tidies," and the proud yellow lambrequin, embroidered in high relief with white gardenias, which had formerly adorned the mantelpiece.
Why should it not, as far as practicable, be a botanic garden as well as a zoological garden?--Ibid.
"Why, I thought tha' didn't know nothin' about gardenin'," he exclaimed.
and at such a price he purchased his sunshine, the fresh air, and a near vision of this flower-garden!--in chains!
ETHEL MORTON'S ENTERPRISE By MABELL S.C. SMITH CONTENTS I HOW IT STARTED II A SNOW MAN AND SEED CATALOGUES III DOROTHY TELLS HER SECRET IV GARDENING ON PAPER V A DEFECT IN THE TITLE VI WILD FLOWERS FOR HELEN'S GARDEN VII COLOR SCHEMES VIII CAVE LIFE IX "NOTHING BUT LEAVES" X THE U.S.C. AND THE COMMUNITY XI THE FLOWER FESTIVAL XII ENOUGH TO GIVE AWAY XIII IN BUSINESS XIV UNCLE DAN'S RESEARCHES XV FUR AND FOSSILS XVI FAIRYLAND XVII THE MISSING HEIRESS CHAPTER I HOW IT STARTED Ethel Morton, called from the color of her eyes Ethel "Blue" to distinguish her from her cousin, also Ethel Morton, whose brown eyes gave her the nickname of Ethel "Brown," was looking out of the window at the big, damp flakes of snow that whirled down as if in a hurry to cover the dull January earth with a gay white carpet.
I heard of you from Mr. Pulham this morning, and that gave a fillip to my laziness, which has been intolerable; but I am so taken up with pruning and gardening,--quite a new sort of occupation to me.
"Yes, just as a cutting planted in the earth will grow, although it seems a very odd style of gardening.--The sacred fig tree of India--Ficus religiosa--is a near relative of the banyan, and very much like it in general appearance; but the leaves are on such slender stalks that they tremble like those of the aspen.
Gardening.--'Tis a winning thing, a garden!
The Commoners of England.--Horace's Regret for the Death of his Mother.-- Little Horace in Arlington Street.--Introduced to George I.-- Characteristic Anecdote of George I.--Walpole's Education.--Schoolboy Days.-- Boyish Friendships.--Companionship of Gray.--A Dreary Doom.-- Walpole's Description of Youthful Delights.--Anecdote of Pope and Frederic of Wales.--The Pomfrets.--Sir Thomas Robinson's Ball.--An Admirable Scene.--Political Squibs.--Sir Robert's Retirement from Office.--The Splendid Mansion of Houghton.--Sir Robert's Love of Gardening.--What we owe to the 'Grandes Tours.
Mrs. Wintergreen's name led, of course, but Mrs. Scraggs' name was there too, sandwiched in between those of Mrs. Van Cortlandtuyvel and Mrs. Gardenior, of Gardenior's Island, representing two families which would carry social weight either in Boston or the "other side of Market Street."
When she meditated on the conversion of Saint Augustine,--how he heard the voice in the garden,--it seemed to her that the Lord equally spoke to her, and thus she was filled with gratitude and joy.
The Sultan's palace, a large modern building on the familiar Arab lines, lies in a treeless and gardenless waste enclosed by high walls and close above the blue Atlantic.
Before Euclid, Plato is said to have written over the entrance to his garden,--"Let no one enter, who is unacquainted with geometry,"--and had himself unveiled the geometrical analysis, exhibiting the whole strength and weakness of the instrument, and applying it successfully in the discussion of the properties of the Conic Sections.
The American, speeding up to London from his landing either at Liverpool or Southampton, always exclaims on the gardenlike aspect, the deep, rich greenness of the landscape.
I will not vouch for the accuracy of the story, but our coachman asserts that he saw this deerhound at play with a fox in our kitchen garden,--not a tame fox, but a wild one.
When we see it waving its long branches neatly over some private inclosure, overshadowing the gravelled walk and the flower-garden,--or watching pensively over the graves of the dead, where the light hues of its foliage help to soften the glowing fancies which are apt to arise from our meditations among the tombs,--or on some wide common, giving solace to the passing traveller, and inviting the playful children to its shade,--or trailing its sweeping spray, like the tresses of a Naiad, over some silvery pond or gently flowing stream,--it is in all cases a delightful object, always picturesque, always soothing, inspiring, and sacred to memory, and serving, by its alliance with what is hallowed in literature, to bind us more closely to Nature.