Oldal 32 [32]
OCR
DME) PAE S RAVER! PLANTATION: BELT bricks of the Governor’s palace. The latter, which stood upon this spot until just after the Revolution, has been described as a “magnificent streture built at the public expense, finished and beautihed with gates, fine gardens, offices, walks, and a canal and orchard embracing in all three hundred and seventy acres, bordered with lindens brought from Scotland." Where the Governor’s garden once bloomed so gayly, daffodils and buttercups now grow into flower. The last named plants—ranunculus acris—are said to be direct descendants of the first ever in this country, which were brought from “‘Merrie England” to adorn the palace grounds. Wild artichokes take up the golden note in autumn beneath the boughs of trees planted by loving hands as a memorial to the gallant sons of James City County who gave their lives in the great World War. At the brown-stained Wythe house, which faces the Palace Green and adjoins Bruton churchyard, cherokee rose vines smilingly greet one before the gate is opened. ‘The original garden laid off on formal, English lines, was, in its best days, hedged with boxwood, and lay at the rear of the house. A long walk between two flower-crowded borders was its dominant feature, and, though most of the old lines have been washed away by the rains of time, white and purple lilacs and pink crepe myrtle trees succeed the countless jonquils and narcissi that come up on the lawn each spring. This house was the home of George Wythe, designer of Virginia’s emblematic seal with the motto, “Sic Semper Tyrannis,”’ and teacher of Jefferson, Marshall and Monroe. The dwelling is rich in history—in traditionary lore, too—for it was in it that Washington lived at times during the Revolution and where members of LaFayette’s suite were quartered. And legend tells of two ghostly visitors. One, the wraith of Lady Skipwith, a belle and beauty of colonial days, who restlessly trips through the ages on high-heeled, clicking shoes, to be known as the dainty dame of the tapping tread. The other tale tells of a young French officer who [21]
