File:The American garden (1891) (17961222920).jpg

Title: The American garden
Identifier: americangarden121891broo (find matches)
Year: 1873 (1870s)
Authors:
Subjects: Horticulture; Gardening
Publisher: Brooklyn, N. Y. : (s. n. )
Contributing Library: Smithsonian Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Biodiversity Heritage Library

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THE SOUTH IN SUMMER. 329 I think it will never again be so lush and velvety to to the foot as here upon the floor of the forest. " Poor soil, this," says some one scornfully, think- ing of the black muck of his Illinois prairie. Aye ! but in this glorious climate you can grow herbage from a rock, or a pot of sand. The railway com- pany below here has an experiment farm, and from the white sand of these pine lands they grovv wondrous potatoes and cabbage. And for fruit—why, we stand on the threshold of the home of the fig and the scuppernong. Are not these names to con- jure with ? Where in song or story will you find me better? But to morrow—. It is to-morrow, and I stand by the shore of the Mexican Gulf, and from written upon every foot of its soil. This portion of the gulf coast, the portion lying between Mobile and New Orleans, now occupies a rather unique position toward society and the world at large, as it is one of the few places in our broad land which seems equally desirable as a summer or winter home. Certain points, of which Pass Christian is the most famous, are largely sought in winter by northern tourists and health-seekers, while in summer, the residents of New Orleans find here a resort conven- ient to their homes and business, where they may enjoy sea air, bathing, driving and the freedom of life of a summer watering place without going far afield to seek it. In one long street facing the gulf
Text Appearing After Image:
From wide and open wojds I now and then catch glimpses ok the blue gulf. a tree whose roots are almost washed by its blue waters, 1 pluck a pomegranate. Behind its tawny skin hide dreams and visions of dark-eyed eastern women ; the odors of " Araby the blest " arise, and I hear the tinkling of a lute, and castanets upon the feet of the dancers. From wide and open woods I now and then catch glimpses of the blue Gulf. The white-sailed sloops are brown-sheeted lateens, and rough, black-bearded fellows man them, the bucca- neers of story ! It is the land of romance and of story. There is no dull page in its chronicles, from the time of Iber- ville until now. The annals of history have been at Pass Christian, these summer houses extend for a distance of nearly five miles. Most of them are quite unpretentious, being constructed in the south- ern style of architecture, which plans for as much space as possible on the ground floor, and are built with a view to comfort rather than display. Yet many are picturesque and attractive, being suggest- ive of idyllic, lounging ease. In front of each and extending well into the gulf are the long bathing wharves, with bathing houses at the end. A clean white road, overhung with wide-spreading live oaks, skirts the shore. Trees and plants of semi-tropical habit, the magnolia, China (or umbrella) tree, crape

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