第3期

It is a custom in the South to build a small house near the homestead as an annex to be used on occasion.

Such a house my father built after the Civil War, and when he married my mother they went to live in it.

It was completely covered with vines, climbing roses and honeysuckles.

From the garden it looked like an arbour.

The little porch was hidden from view by a screen of yellow roses and Southern smilax.

It was the favourite haunt of humming-birds and bees.

The Keller homestead, where the family lived, was a few steps from our little rose-bower.

It was called Ivy Green because the house and the surrounding trees and fences were covered with beautiful English ivy.

Its old-fashioned garden was the paradise of my childhood.

Even in the days before my teacher came, I used to feel along the square stiff boxwood hedges, and, guided by the sense of smell would find the first violets and lilies.