But, after all, we did not stay in the house much. Why should we, with the garden calling us out with its thousand voices? On each side of the house lay an oval lawn, green as emerald. One lawn had the laburnum-tree, where at the right time of year we sat under a shower of fragrant gold; the other had the three hawthorn-trees, one with white blossoms, another with pink, and a third with deep red, rose-like flowers. Other trees were there, but I do not remember them. Directly in front of the house stood two giant Balm-of-Gilead trees, towering over the low-roofed dwelling. These trees were favorites of ours, for at a certain time they dropped down to us thousands and thousands of sticky catkins, full of the most charming, silky cotton. We called them the “cottonwool-trees,” and loved them tenderly. Then, between the trees, a flight of steps plunged down to the green-house. A curious place this was,--summer-house, hot-house, and bowling-alley, all in one. The summer-house part was not very interesting, being all filled with seeds and pots and dry bulbs, and the like. But from it a swing-door opened into Elysium! Here the air was soft and balmy, and full of the smell of roses. One went down two steps, and there were the roses themselves! Great vines trained along the walls, heavy with long white or yellow or tea-colored buds,--I remember no red ones. Mr. Arrow, the gardener, never let us touch the roses, and he never gave us a bud; but when a rose was fully open, showing its golden heart, he would often pick it for us, with a sigh, but a kind look too. Mr. Arrow was an Englishman, stout and red-faced. Julia made a rhyme about him once, beginning,-- “Poor Mr. Arrow, he once was narrow, But that was a long time ago.” Midway in the long glass-covered building was a tiny oval pond, lined with green moss. I think it once had goldfish in it, but they did not thrive. When Mr. Arrow was gone to dinner, it was pleasant to fill the brass syringe with water from this pond, and squirt at the roses, and feel the heavy drops plashing back in one’s upturned face. Sometimes a child fell into the pond; but as the water was only four or five inches deep, no harm was done, save to stockings and petticoats.