out and in, and kindness and sympathy
too, but his life and his house are together each man's stronghold and
castle, to be kept and defended.

I was much amused once at thinking that the fine old solid paneled doors
were being unhinged faster than ever nowadays, since so many front gates
have disappeared, and the click of the latch can no longer give notice
of the approach of a guest. Now the knocker sounds or the bell rings
without note or warning, and the village housekeeper cannot see who is
coming in until they have already reached the door. Once the guests
could be seen on their way up the walk. It must be a satisfaction to
look through the clear spots of the figured ground-glass in the new
doors, and I believe if there is a covering inside few doors will be
found unprovided with a peephole. It was better to hear the gate open
and shut, and if it caught and dragged as front gates are very apt to do
you could have time always for a good look out of the window at the
approaching friend.

There are few of us who cannot remember a front-yard garden which seemed
to us a very paradise in childhood. It was like a miracle when the
yellow and white daffies came into bloom in the spring, and there was a
time when tiger-lilies and the taller rose-bushes were taller than we
were, and we could not look over their heads as we do now. There were
always a good many lady's-delights that grew under the bushes, and came
up anywhere in the chinks of the walk of the door-step, and there was a
little green sprig called ambrosia that was a famous stray-away. Outside
the fence one was not unlikely to see a company of French pinks, which
were forbidden standing-room inside as if they were tiresome poor
relations of the other flowers. I always felt a sympathy for French
pinks,--they have a fresh, sweet look, as if they resigned themselves to
their lot in life and made the best of it, and remembered that they had
the sunshine and rain, and could see what was going on in the world, if
they were outlaws.

I like to remember being sent on errands, and being asked to wait while
the mistress of the house picked some flowers to send back to my mother.
They were almost always prim, flat bouquets in those days; the larger
flowers were picked first and stood at the back and looked over the
heads of those that were shorter of stem and stature, and the givers
always sent a message that they had not stopped to arrange them. I
remember that I had eve