There is the
guest house, and the motor house--quite as interesting as any other part
of the garden. And everywhere there are blue and white and rose-colored
flowers, planted in great masses against the black-green evergreens.
We leave America early in June, tired out with the breathless business
of living, and find ourselves in our old-world house and garden. We fall
asleep to the accompaniment of the tiny piping of the little people in
bur garden. We awake to the matins of the birds. We breakfast on the
stone terrace, with boughs of trees and clouds for our roof, and as we
look out over the masses of blue flowers and the smooth green _tapis
vert_, over the arched trelliage with its fountains and its marbles, the
great trees back of our domain frame the supremely beautiful towers of
the Chateau le Magnificent, and we are far happier than anyone deserves
to be in this wicked world!
XX
NOTES ON MANY THINGS
A LITTLE TALK ON CLOCKS.
The selection of proper clocks for one's house is always long-drawn-out,
a pursuit of real pleasure. Clocks are such necessary things the
thoughtless woman is apt to compromise, when she doesn't find exactly
the right one. How much wiser and happier she would be if she decided to
depend upon an ordinary alarm clock until the proper clock was
discovered! If she made a hobby of her quest for clocks she would find
much amusement, many other valuable objects by-the-way, and finally
exactly the right clocks for her rooms.
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