Colonel Carter of Cartersville by Francis Hopkinson Smith

The colonel's front yard, while as quaint and old-fashioned as his house, was not -- if I may be allowed -- quite so well bred.

This came partly from the outdoor life it had always led and from its close association with other yards that had lost all semblance of respectability, and partly from the fact that it had never felt the refining influences of the friends of the house; for nobody ever lingered in the front yard who by any possibility could get into the front door -- nobody, except perhaps now and then a stray tramp, who felt at home at once and went to sleep on the steps.