Part 6

169 } 170 } "HAMILTON HOUSE," SOUTH BERWICK, MAINE

171 } 172 } "GLEN ALPINE," MORRISTOWN, N. J.

173 EAST HAMPTON, L. I.

174 "GLENDESSARY," SANTA BARBARA, CAL.

175 CLIFTON, CINCINNATI, OHIO.

176 "THORNEWOOD," TACOMA, WASH.

TITLE-PAGE: EAST HAMPTON, L. I., ALBERT HERTER, ESQ. From a photograph by Jessie Tarbox Beals.

"A garden was wonderful at night--a place of strange silences and yet stranger sound: trees darkly guarding mysterious paths that ran into caverns of darkness; the scents of flowers rising from damp earth heavy with dew; flowers that were weary with the dust and noise of the day and slept gently, gratefully, with their heads drooping to the soil, their petals closed by the tender hands of the spirits of the garden. The night sounds were strangely musical. Cries that were discordant in the day mingled now with the running of distant water, the last notes of some bird before it slept, the measured harmony of a far-away bell, the gentle rustle of some arrival in the thickets; the voice that could not be heard in the noisy chatter of the day rose softly now in a little song of the night and the dark trees and the silver firelight of the stars."

--HUGH WALPOLE.

FOREWORD

Books and magazines written by and for American architects usually show in their illustrations fine imitations of lovely French, English, and Italian formalism and works of art in marble or other stone ornamenting the gardens of great mansions in this country.

The object of this book is to present, more particularly, another type of garden, demonstrating the cultured American's love of beauty expressed through plant life rather than in stone; showing the development of his ideal in more original directions, when planning for himself the garden spot in which he is to live rather than when building wholly in imitation of some accepted type of classic art.

With but few exceptions, these illustrations are of a class which might be called personal gardens. The attractive features in nearly every view speak so eloquently for themselves that there seems but little need of detailed verbal description of each beautiful spot.

In covering all sections of the country, occasion is given for the observation and study of widely varying climatic conditions, the results of which the author has also sought to consider.

Some difficulty has been felt in properly ascribing the ownership of a number of the gardens illustrated. As a rule, there is but one recognized director of the garden's welfare--rarely are two members of a household equally interested. While he is by custom acknowledged master of the house, it is oftener she who rules supreme among the flowers. Misnaming the real possessor might be a serious mistake; attributing the ownership to two is superfluous; the benefit, where any doubt existed, has been therefore given to the fair sex, with due apology for possible errors.

LOUISE SHELTON. MORRISTOWN, N. J., October 28, 1915.

BEAUTIFUL GARDENS

IN AMERICA

A GARDEN

Come not with careless feet To tread my garden's unfrequented ways. No highroad this, no busy clanging street, No place of petty shows and fond displays. Here there are blossoms sweet That shrink and pine from inconsiderate gaze; And here the birds repeat Only to loving ears their truest lays. Hither I can retreat And drink of peace where peace unravished stays. Herein are streams of sorrow no man knows-- Herein a well of joy inviolate flows; Come not with careless feet To soil my garden's sanctuary ways.

--ANONYMOUS.

THE GARDEN AND ITS MEANING

A world without flowers! What would it be? Among those who know, such a question needs no answer--and we are not seeking a reply from the uninitiated who, for lack of understanding and sympathy, can but gaze at us with wondering pity, when our gardens cause us to overlook so much that to them means life. But is there any life more real than the life in the garden for those who actually take part in its creation and nurture it carefully week by week and year by year? If, owing to this absorbing occupation, we fail to give a full share of ourselves to some of the social avocations of the busy world are we to be pitied for getting "back to the soil" to which we belong? Man was put by the Creator "in the Garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it," and even after his forced departure therefrom he was bidden to "till the ground," and the reward seems great to us who know the meaning of the signs and wonders continually being revealed in the garden world.

In seeking the simpler life which many are now craving, if luxuries are blessings that we could do without, must we count the flower garden a luxury? Not while its beauty is a joy in which others may share, nor when it helps to keep at home our interests which make the real home. There is a luxury that often induces the roaming spirit, and doubtless were there fewer motors there would be still more gardens and incidentally more home life. Yet notwithstanding this temptation to roam, gardens are now on the increase in almost every section of the United States. We have made a brave beginning of which to be justly proud.

If only we could live in the world more as we live in the garden, what joy and contentment would be brought into the daily life! In the garden hurry and noise are needless, for perfect system can prevail where each plant, each labor has its own especial time, and where haste is a stranger, quiet reigns. It is in the stillness of the green world that we hear the sounds that make for peace and growth. In the garden, too, we labor faithfully, as best we know how, in following rules that promise good results. Then at a certain time we must stand aside, consciously trusting to the source of life to do the rest. With hopeful eyes we watch and wait, while the mysterious unseen spirit brings life into plant and tree. When something goes wrong, how sublime is our cheerful garden philosophy, as smiling we say: "Just wait until we try next year!" And patiently we try again, and ever patiently, sometimes again and yet again. Our unwritten motto is: "If others can, then why not we?" Even the man who "contends that God is not" shows all this wondrous reliance in the unseen force within his garden.

With hands plunged into the cool earth we seem to bury in the magic soil all thoughts that jar till we almost feel ourselves a part of the garden plan; as much in harmony with it as the note of the bird, the soft splash of the fountain, the tints of the flowers and their perfumes. This idea is better expressed in four lines found inscribed on an old garden seat:

"The kiss of the sun for pardon, The song of the birds for mirth, One is nearer God's heart in a garden Than anywhere else on earth."

It is not a selfish life--the object in view is not a narrow one. How few would be content to create a beautiful garden if none could see! And our pleasure is not complete until others have shared its sweetness with us. The gardener is developing nature in the simplest and truest way, following the thought of the first great Architect and gladdening the hearts of men with the vision beautiful of the possibilities within plant life. In the flower garden the efforts are for upbuilding, for giving back some of the beauty intended in the Perfect Plan, too often defaced by man's heedlessness.