wholly
necessary things of life. When it was thought worth while to put a fence
around the flower-garden the respectability of art itself was
established and made secure. Whether the house was a fine one, and its
inclosure spacious, or whether it was a small house with only a narrow
bit of ground in front, this yard was kept with care, and it was
different from the rest of the land altogether. The children were not
often allowed to play there, and the family did not use the front door
except upon occasions of more or less ceremony. I think that many of the
old front yards could tell stories of the lovers who found it hard to
part under the stars, and lingered over the gate; and who does not
remember the solemn group of men who gather there at funerals, and stand
with their heads uncovered as the mourners go out and come in, two by
two. I have always felt rich in the possession of an ancient York
tradition of an old fellow who demanded, as he lay dying, that the grass
in his front yard should be cut at once; it was no use to have it
trodden down and spoilt by the folks at the funeral. I always hoped it
was good hay weather; but he must have been certain of that when he
spoke. Let us hope he did not confuse this world with the next, being so
close upon the borders of it! It was not man-like to think of the front
yard, since it was the special domain of the women,--the men of the
family respected but ignored it,--they had to be teased in the spring
to dig the flower beds, but it was the busiest time of the year; one
should remember that.

I think many people are sorry, without knowing why, to see the fences
pulled down; and the disappearance of plain white palings causes almost
as deep regret as that of the handsome ornamental fences and their high
posts with urns or great white balls on top. A stone coping does not
make up for the loss of them; it always looks a good deal like a lot in
a cemetery, for one thing; and then in a small town the grass is not
smooth, and looks uneven where the flower-beds were not properly
smoothed down. The stray cows trample about where they never went
before; the bushes and little trees that were once protected grow ragged
and scraggly and out at elbows, and a few forlorn flowers come up of
themselves, and try hard to grow and to bloom. The ungainly red tubs
that are perched on little posts have plants in them, but the poor
posies look as if they would rather be in the ground, and as if the