flowers: the large greenhouse was down in the garden, under the same roof as the bowling-alley.
The pears and peaches and strawberries of Green Peace were like no others that ever ripened; we see ourselves tagging at our father's heels, watching his pruning and grafting with an absorption equalling his own, learning from him that there must be honor in gardens as elsewhere, and that fruit taken from his hand was sweet, while stolen fruit would be bitter.
We see ourselves gathered in the great dining-room, where the grand piano was, and the Gobelin carpet with the strange beasts and fishes, bought at the sale of the ex-King Joseph Bonaparte
's furniture at Bordentown
, and the Snyders' Boar Hunt
, which one of us could never pass without a shiver; see ourselves dancing to our mother's playing,--wonderful dances, invented by Flossy, who was always premiere danseuse
, and whose “Lady MacBETHeth
” dagger dance was a thing to remember.
Then perhaps the door would open, and in would come “Papa” as a bear, in his fur overcoat, growling horribly, and chase the dancers into corners, they shrieking terrified delight.
Again, we see ourselves clustered round the piano while our mother sang to us; songs of all nations, from the Polish drinking-songs that Uncle Sam had learned in his student days in Germany
, down to the Negro melodies which were very near our hearts.
Best of all, however, we loved her own songs: cradleson!ma gs and nursery nonsense made for our very selves-