FOR THE GIRLS.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 99, 29 April 1933, Page 2 (Supplement)

FOR THE GIRLS.

IN AN ENGLISH GARDEN

A HUMAN TRIBUTE.

My Dear Girls, — ... j . 1 j I love my garden—such a little garden it is, too and not planned at all in the manner-that gardens should be planned put the happy moments I spend there, among the tall hollyhocks and pink carnat.on,, weeding and watering and planting; sometimes wonder if I could possibly C Waaler in the gardens of Buckingham Palace. tven now my desk i< gay with a vase of cosmos—pink and white, and drooping just a little. Somebody once said to me: "If you had your pick of_ every nook and coiner of the world, Wendy, -where would you most like to visit, and I answered (no doubt because we were strolling m my own little garden at the time, and the air was fresh with the perfume of sweet peas and "breath of heaven"), "H. G. Wells' garden. Now I suppose—in fact I've no doubt at all that if it came to a point, with the whole wide world to choose from—my choice wrnldl not fall on this particular corner of England at all. The fact i emains, however, that thi# famous writer's garden possesses, for me at least, a fascination not to be denied. In years past I have read of it often and seen pictures of it, the sheer loveliness of which has quite taken my breath away. And more recently still a friend has hold me of it, and she describes the hour spent rambling through it .as one of the most pleasant in the course of a long trip through England. \ The lanes and byways of Essex lead you to it—this garden on the southern and eastern sides of H. G. Wells rambling country home. A quaint high stone wall, with trails of red rambler roses and honeysuckle runs a winding course on the outskirts of the garden, and ° n ' f access by way of an arched woodan gate. Within are myriads of little cobbled paths, quaint and irregular, winding and twisting in and out anions the trees and the flowers and the ferns, the beds of marigolds and the fluttering Califorijian poppies. Here and there are little rustic summer houses to catch the most elusive sunbeams! here and there fruit trees, with peaches, mellow and ripe, and plums and apples—a joyful, fertile place this garden. But it is the lily pond that really enehants me—the lily pond m the cool secluded southern corner of the garden, where The waters lie hidden 'neath a carpet of lilies." (The quotation is from one who has seen it.; And my friend tells me of a little cobbled path that twists off suddenly, and of a tablet hidden amongst the rosemary and lavender and bearing this human tribute: "In memory of Henry Grout, who was gardener here for 31 years. He died May 20, 1934, Every corner, every inch of this garden i« .the better and riqher for ht* work and care. But for all its loveliness there is a spirit of sadness lurking in this old world garden. Once it was loved and tehded by the author s wife, a gentle and very beautiful lady, and since her death some years ago, under trapic circumstances, it has been kept in every tiny detail a« she always wished it.

I would love to pee this garden, and yet again A-aA I a.m not so sure, .U i« not possible that it could , * be half »o lovely as the garden of my imagination, * > and J# there, after all, anything sadder th»n f*' disillusionment.