from starving than to lay out
alleys and plant flowers and box borders among the rocks and stumps.
There is a great pathos in the fact that in so stern and hard a life
there was time or place for any gardens at all. I can picture to myself
the little slips and cuttings that had been brought over in the ship,
and more carefully guarded than any of the household goods; I can see
the women look at them tearfully when they came into bloom, because
nothing else could be a better reminder of their old home. What fears
there must have been lest the first winter's cold might kill them, and
with what love and care they must have been tended! I know a rose-bush,
and a little while ago I knew an apple-tree, that were brought over by
the first settlers; the rose still blooms, and until it was cut down the
old tree bore apples. It is strange to think that civilized New England
is no older than the little red roses that bloom in June on that slope
above the river in Kittery. Those earliest gardens were very pathetic in
the contrast of their extent and their power of suggestion and
association. Every seed that came up was thanked for its kindness, and
every flower that bloomed was the child of a beloved ancestry.

It would be interesting to watch the growth of the gardens as life
became easier and more comfortable in the colonies. As the settlements
grew into villages and towns, and the Indians were less dreadful, and
the houses were better and more home-like, the busy people began to find
a little time now and then when they could enjoy themselves soberly.
Beside the fruits of the earth they could have some flowers and a sprig
of sage and southernwood and tansy, or lavender that had come from
Surrey and could be dried to be put among the linen as it used to be
strewn through the chests and cupboards in the old country.

I like to think of the changes as they came slowly; that after a while
tender plants could be kept through the winter, because the houses were
better built and warmer, and were no longer rough shelters which were
only meant to serve until there could be something better. Perhaps the
parlor, or best room, and a special separate garden for the flowers were
two luxuries of the same date, and they made a noticeable change in the
manner of living,--the best room being a formal recognition of the
claims of society, and the front yard an appeal for the existence of
something that gave pleasure,--beside the merely useful and