I used to
think them very pretty when I was a boy.
We had not many neighbours. There was only one other house on the
island, and it was built on the other side of the lighthouse tower. The
house belonged to Mr. Millar, who shared the care of the lighthouse with
my grandfather. Just outside the two houses was a court, with a pump in
the middle, from which we got our water. There was a high wall all
round this court, to make a little shelter for us from the stormy wind.
Beyond this court were two gardens, divided by an iron railing. The
Millars' garden was very untidy and forlorn, and filled with nettles,
and thistles, and groundsel, and all kinds of weeds, for Mr. Millar did
not care for gardening, and Mrs. Millar had six little children, and had
no time to look after it.
But our garden was the admiration of every one who visited the island.
My grandfather and I were at work in it every fine day, and took a pride
in keeping it as neat as possible. Although it was so near the sea, our
garden produced most beautiful vegetables and fruit, and the borders
were filled with flowers, cabbage-roses, and pansies, and wall-flowers,
and many other hardy plants which were not afraid of the sea air.
Outside the garden was a good-sized field--full of small hillocks,
over which the wild rabbits and hares, with which the island abounded,
were continually scampering.
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