John Gayther's Garden — Frank R. Stockton / Frank Richard Stockton

CONTENTS PAGE John Gayther's Garden 3 I What I Found in the Sea 9 Told by John Gayther II The Bushwhacker Nurse 39 Told by the Daughter of the House III The Lady in the Box 71 Told by John Gayther IV The Cot and the Rill 109 Told by the Mistress of the House V The Gilded Idol and the King Conch-shell 155 Told by the Master of the House VI My Balloon Hunt 201 Told by the Frenchman VII The Foreign Prince and the Hermit's Daughter 223 Told by Pomona and JonasVIII The Conscious Amanda 249 Told by the Daughter of the House IX My Translatophone 279 Told by the Old Professor X The Vice-consort 307 Told by the Next Neighbor XI Blackgum ag'in' Thunder 341 Told by John GaytherJOHN GAYTHER'S GARDENThe garden did not belong to John Gayther; he merely had charge of it.At certain busy seasons he had some men to help him in his work, but forthe greater part of the year he preferred doing everything himself.It was a very fine garden over which John Gayther had charge. Itextended this way and that for long distances. It was difficult to seehow far it did extend, there were so many old-fashioned box hedges;so many paths overshadowed by venerable grape-arbors; and so manyfar-stretching rows of peach, plum, and pear trees. Fruit, bushes, andvines there were of which the roll need not be called; and flowers greweverywhere. It was one of the fancies of the Mistress of the House--andshe inherited it from her mother--to have flowers in great abundance, sothat wherever she might walk through the garden she would always findthem.Often when she found them massed too thickly she would go in among themand thin them out with apparent recklessness, pulling them up by theroots and throwing them on the path, where John Gayther would come andfind them and take them away. This heroic action on the part of theMistress of the House pleased John very much. He respected the fearlessspirit which did not hesitate to make sacrifices for the greater good,no matter how many beautiful blossoms she scattered on the garden path.John Gayther might have thinned out all this superfluous growth himself,but he knew the Mistress liked to do it, and he left for her glovedhands many tangled jungles of luxuriant bloom.The garden was old, and rich, and aristocratic. It acted generously inthe way of fruit, flowers, and vegetables, as if that were something itwas expected to do, an action to which it was obliged by its nobility.It would be impossible for it to forget that it belonged to a fine oldhouse and a fine old family.John Gayther could not boast of lines of long descent, as could thegarden and the family. He was comparatively a new-comer, and had notlived in that garden more than seven or eight years; but in that time hehad so identified himself with the place, and all who dwelt upon it,that there were times when a stranger might have supposed him to be thecommon ancestor to the whole estate.