h only herbaceous
plants and evergreens.

[Illustration: "However enraptured of wild nature you may be, you do and
must require of her _some_ subserviency about your own dwelling."

A front view of the three older buildings of Williston Seminary.]

So, then, our problem, Where to Plant What, may become for a moment,
Where to Plant Shrubbery; and the response of the free-line garden will
be, of course, "Remember, concerning each separate shrub, that he or
she--or it, if you really _prefer_ the neuter--is your guest, and plant
him or her or it where it will best enjoy itself, while promoting the
whole company's joy." Before it has arrived in the garden, therefore,
learn--and carefully consider--its likes and dislikes, habits, manners
and accomplishments and its friendly or possibly unfriendly relations
with your other guests. This done, determine between whom and whom you
will seat it; between what and what you will plant it, that is, so as to
"draw it out," as we say of diffident or reticent persons; or to use it
for drawing out others of less social address. But how many a lovely
shrub has arrived where it was urgently invited, and found that its host
or hostess, or both, had actually forgotten its name! Did not know how
to introduce it to any fellow guest, or whether it loved sun or shade,
loam, peat, clay, leaf-mould or sand, wetness or dryness; and yet should
have found all that out in the proper blue-book (horticultural
dictionary) before inviting the poor mortified guest at all.

"Oh, pray be seated--anywhere. Plant yourself alone in the middle. This
is Liberty Garden."

"It is no such thing," says the tear-bedewed beauty to herself; "it's
Anarchy Garden." Yet, like the lady she is, she stays where she is put,
and gets along surprisingly well.

New England calls Northampton one of her most beautiful towns. But its
beauty lies in the natural landscape in and around it, in the rise,
fall, and swing of the seat on which it sits, the graceful curving of
its streets, the noble spread of its great elms and maples, the green
and blue openness of grounds everywhere about its modest homes and its
highly picturesque outlook upon distant hills and mountains and
intervening meadows and fields, with the Connecticut winding through.
Its architecture is in three or four instances admirable though not
extraordinary, and, as in almost every town in our vast America, there
are hardly five householders in it who are really skil