From some distance I had seen a veritable palace set high among the trees and overlooking a wonderful green valley--and, drawing nearer, I saw evidences of well-kept roadways and a visible effort to make invisible the attempt to preserve the wild beauty of the place. I saw, or thought I saw, people on the wide veranda, and I was sure I heard the snort of a climbing motor-car, but I had scarcely decided to make my way up to the house when I came, at the turning of the country road, upon a bit of open land laid out neatly as a garden, near the edge of which, nestling among the trees, stood a small cottage. It seemed somehow to belong to the great estate above it, and I concluded, at the first glance, that it was the home of some caretaker or gardener.
It was a charming place to see, and especially the plantation of trees and shrubs. My eye fell instantly upon a fine magnolia--rare in this country--which had not yet cast all its blossoms, and I paused for a moment to look at it more closely. I myself have tried to raise magnolias near my house, and I know how difficult it is.
As I approached nearer to the cottage, I could see a man and woman sitting on the porch in the twilight and swaying back and forth in rocking-chairs. I fancied-- it may have been only a fancy--that when I first saw them their hands were clasped as they rocked side by side.
It was indeed a charming little cottage. Crimson ramblers, giving promise of the bloom that was yet to come, climbed over one end of the porch, and there were fine dark-leaved lilac-bushes near the doorway: oh, a pleasant, friendly, quiet place!
I opened the front gate and walked straight in, as though I had at last reached my destination. I cannot give any idea of the lift of the heart with which I entered upon this new adventure.
Without the premeditation and not knowing what I should say or do, I realized that everything upon a few sentences spoken within the next minute or two. Believe me, this experience to a man who does not know where his next meal is coming from, nor where he is to spend the night, is well worth having. It is a marvellous sharpener of the facts.
I knew, of course, just how these people of the cottage would ordinarily regard an intruder whose bag and clothing must infallibly class him as a follower of the road. And so many followers of the road are--well--As I came nearer, the man and woman stopped rocking, but said nothing. An old dog that had been sleeping on the top step rose slowly and stood there.
"As I passed your garden," I said, grasping desperately for a way of approach, "I saw your beautiful specimen of the magnolia tree--the one still in blossom. I myself have tried to grow magnolias--but with small success--and I'm ****** bold to inquire what variety you are so successful with."
It was a shot in the air--but I knew from what I had seen that they must be enthusiastic gardeners. The man glanced around at the magnolia with evident pride, and was about to answer when the woman rose and with a pleasant, quiet cordiality said:
"Won't you step up and have a chair?"
I swung my bag from my shoulder and took the proffered seat. As I did so I saw, on the table just behind me a number magazines and books--books of unusual sizes and shapes, indicating that they were not mere summer novels.
"They like books!" I said to myself, with a sudden rise of spirits.
"I have tried magnolias, too," said the man, "but this is the only one that has been really successful. It is a Chinese white magnolia."
"The one Downing describes?" I asked.
This was also a random shot, but I conjectured that if they loved both books gardens they would know Downing--Bible of the gardener. And if they did, we belonged to the same church.
"The very same," exclaimed the woman; "it was Downing's enthusiasm for the Chinese magnolia which led us first to try it."
With that, like true disciples, we fell into great talk of Downing, at first all in praise of him, and later--for may not the faithful be permitted latitude in their comments so long as it is all within the cloister?--we indulged in a bit of higher criticism.
"It won't do," said the man, "to follow too slavishly every detail of practice as recommended by Downing. We have learned a good many things since the forties."
"The fact is," I said, "no literal-minded man should be trusted with Downing."
"Any more than with the Holy Scriptures," exclaimed the woman.
"Exactly!" I responded with the greatest enthusiasm; "exactly! We go to him for inspiration, for fundamental teachings, for the great literature and poetry of the art. Do you remember," I asked, "that passage in which Downing quotes from some old Chinaman upon the true secret of the pleasures of a garden--?"
"Do we?" exclaimed the man, jumping up instantly; "do we? Just let me get the book--"
With that he went into the house and came back immediately bringing a lamp in one hand--for it had grown pretty dark--and a familiar, portly, blue-bound book in the other. While he was gone the woman said:
"You have touched Mr. Vedder in his weakest spot."
"I know of no combination in this world," said I, "so certain to produce a happy heart as good books and a farm or garden."
Mr. Vedder, having returned, slipped on his spectacles, sat forward on the edge of his rocking-chair, and opened the book with pious hands.
"I'll find it," he said. "I can put my finger right on it."
"You'll find it," said Mrs. Vedder, "in the chapter on 'Hedges.'"
"You are wrong, my dear," he responded, "it is in 'Mistakes of Citizens in Country Life."
He turned the leaves eagerly.
"No," he said, "here it is in 'Rural Taste.' Let me read you the passage, Mr.--"
"Grayson."
"--Mr. Grayson. The Chinaman's name was Lieu-tscheu. 'What is it,' asks this old Chinaman, 'that we seek in the pleasure of a garden? It has always been agreed that these plantations should make men amends for living at a distance from what would be their more congenial and agreeable dwelling-place--in the midst of nature, free and unrestrained.'"
