THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I

 [Illustration: A SEASIDE GARDEN. ]

 THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I

 BY

 BARBARA

 AUTHOR OF

 "THE GARDEN OF A COMMUTER'S WIFE, " "PEOPLE OF THE WHIRLPOOL, " "AT THE SIGN OF THE FOX, " ETC. 

 New York THE MACMILLAN COMPANY LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO. , LTD. 1906

 _All rights reserved_

 COPYRIGHT, 1906. 

 BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. 

 Set up and electrotyped. Published June, 1906. 

 Norwood Press J. S. Cushing & Co. --Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass. , U. S. A. 

 ~Dedicated~

 TO

 J. L. G. 

 I. M. T. 

 AND

 A. B. P. 

 THE LITERARY GARDENERS OF REDDING

 GREETING

 This book is for those who in treading the garden path have no thought of material gain; rather must they give, --from the pocket as they may, --from the brain much, --and from the heart all, --if they would drink in full measure this pure joy of living. 

 "Allons! the road is before us! It is safe--I have tried it--my own feet have tried it well--be not detained. " --WALT WHITMAN. 

 CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. THE WAYS OF THE WIND 1

 II. THE BOOK OF THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I 7

 III. CONCERNING HARDY PLANTS 29

 IV. THEIR GARDEN VACATION 48

 V. ANNUALS--WORTHY AND UNWORTHY 70

 VI. THEIR FORTUNATE ESCAPE 92

 VII. A SIMPLE ROSE GARDEN 117

 VIII. A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE 155

 IX. FERNS, FENCES, AND WHITE BIRCHES 183

 X. FRANKNESS--GARDENING AND OTHERWISE 202

 LIST OF FLOWER COMBINATIONS FOR THE TABLE FROM BARBARA'S _Garden Boke_ 230

 XI. A SEASIDE GARDEN 233

 XII. THE TRANSPLANTING OF EVERGREENS 246

 XIII. LILIES AND THEIR WHIMS 262

 XIV. FRAGRANT FLOWERS AND LEAVES 281

 XV. THE PINK FAMILY OUTDOORS 305

 XVI. THE FRAME OF THE PICTURE 320

 XVII. THE INS AND OUTS OF THE MATTER 336

 XVIII. THE VALUE OF WHITE FLOWERS 352

 XIX. PANDORA'S CHEST 365

 XX. EPILOGUE 374

APPENDIX

 FOR THE HARDY SEED BED 375

 SOME WORTHY ANNUALS 387

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 A SEASIDE GARDEN (see p. 243) _Frontispiece_

 "THE MAGNOLIAS BELOW AT THE ROAD-BEND" 8

 ENGLISH LARKSPUR SEVEN FEET HIGH 32

 FRAXINELLA--GERMAN IRIS AND CANDY-TUFT 44

 LONGFELLOW'S GARDEN 81

 THE SUMMER GARDEN--VERBENAS 86

 ASTERS 90

 THE PICTORIAL VALUE OF EVERGREENS 102

 "MY ROSES ARE SCATTERED HERE, THERE, AND EVERYWHERE" 119

 MADAME PLANTIER AT VAN CORTLAND MANOR 128

 A CONVENIENT ROSE-BED 138

 "THE LAST OF THE OLD ORCHARD" 156

 THE SCREEN OF WHITE BIRCHES 166

 "AN ENDLESS SHELTER FOR EVERY SORT OF WILD THING" 184

 SPECIOSUM LILIES IN THE SHADE 270

 THE POET'S NARCISSUS 278

 A BED OF JAPAN PINKS 296

 SINGLE AND DOUBLE PINKS 314

 "THE SILVER MAPLE BY THE LANE GATE" 326

 "A CURTAIN TO THE SIDE PORCH" 328

 AN IRIS HEDGE 358

 DAPHNE CNEORUM 360

 A TERRIBLE EXAMPLE 362

 "THE LOW SNOW-COVERED MEADOW" 372

 "PUNCH ... HAS A CACHE UNDER THE SYRINGA BUSHES" 374

THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I

I

THE WAYS OF THE WIND

 "Out of the veins of the world comes the blood of me; The heart that beats in my side is the heart of the sea; The hills have known me of old, and they do not forget; Long ago was I friends with the wind; I am friends with it yet. "

 --GERALD GOULD. 

Whenever a piece of the land is to be set apart for a garden, two mightyrulers must be consulted as to the boundaries. When this earth child isborn and flower garnished for the christening, the same two must be alsobidden as sponsors. These rulers are the Sun and the Wind. The sun, ifthe matter in hand is once fairly spread before him and put in hischarge, is a faithful guardian, meeting frankness frankly and sendinghis penetrating and vitalizing messengers through well-nigh inviolableshade. But of the wind, who shall answer for it or trust it? Do wereally ever learn all of its vagaries and impossible possibilities?

If frankness best suits the sun, diplomacy must be our shield ofdefence windward, for the wind is not one but a composite of many moods, and to lure one on, and skilfully but not insultingly bar out another, is our portion. To shut out the wind of summer, the bearer of vitality, the uplifter of stifling vapours, the disperser of moulds, would indeedbe an error; therefore, the great art of the planters of a garden is tolearn the ways of the wind and to make friends with it. If the soil issodden and sour, it may be drained and sweetened; if it is poor, it maybe nourished; but when all this is done, if the garden lies where thewinds of winter and spring in passing swiftly to and fro whet theirsteel-edged tempers upon it, what avails?

What does it matter if violet or pansy frames are set in a sunny nook, if it be one of the wind's winter playgrounds, where he drifts the snowdeep for his pastime, so that after each storm of snow or sleet aserious bit of engineering must be undergone before the sashes can belifted and the plants saved from dampness; or if the daffodils andtulips lie well bedded all the winter through, if, when the sun hascalled them forth, the winds of March blight their sap-tender foliage?Yet the lands that send the north winds also send us the means to deterthem--the cold-loving evergreens, low growing, high growing, medium, woven dense in warp and woof, to be windbreaks, also the shrubs oftough, twisted fibre and stubborn thorns lying close to the earth forwindbuffers. 

Therefore, before the planting of rose or hardy herbs, bulbs or tendererflowers, go out, compass in hand, face the four quarters of heaven, and, considering well, set your windbreaks of sweeping hemlocks, pines, spruces, not in fortress-like walls barring all the horizon, but inalternate groups that flank, without appearing to do so heavily, thenorth and northwest. Even a barberry hedge on two sides of a garden, wedge point to north, like the wild-goose squadrons of springtime, willmake that spot an oasis in the winter valley of death. 

A wise gardener it is who thinks of the winter in springtime and plantsfor it as surely as he thinks of spring in the winter season and longsfor it! If, in the many ways by which the affairs of daily life arere-enforced, the saying is true that "forethought is coin in the pocket, quiet in the brain, and content in the heart, " doubly does it apply tothe pleasures of living, of which the outdoor life of working side byside with nature, called gardening, is one of the chief. When a gardenis inherited, the traditions of the soil or reverence for those whoplanned and toiled in it may make one blind to certain defects in itsconception, and beginning with _a priori_ set by another one does as onecan. 

But in those choosing site, and breaking soil for themselves, inconsistency is inexcusable. Follow the lay of the land and let itlead. Nature does not attempt placid lowland pictures on a steephillside, nor dramatic landscape effects in a horizonless meadow, therefore why should you? For one great garden principle you will learnfrom nature's close companionship--consistency!

You who have a bit of abrupt hillside of impoverished soil, yet wherethe sky-line is divided in a picture of many panels by the trees, youshould not try to perch thereon a prim Dutch garden of formal lines;neither should you, to whom a portion of fertile level plain has fallen, seek to make it picturesque by a tortuous maze of walks, curving aboutnothing in particular and leading nowhere, for of such is not nature. Either situation will develop the skill, though in different directions, and do not forget that in spite of better soil it takes greaterindividuality to make a truly good and harmonious garden on the flatthan on the rolling ground. 

I always tremble for the lowlander who, down in the depth of his nature, has a prenatal hankering for rocks, because he is apt to build anundigested rockery! These sort of rockeries are wholly separate from therock gardens, often majestic, that nowadays supplement a bit of naturalrocky woodland, bringing it within the garden pale. The awful rockery ofthe flat garden is like unto a nest of prehistoric eggs that have beenturned to stone, from the interstices of which a few wan vines and fernsprotrude somewhat, suggesting the garnishing for an omelet. 

Also, if you follow Nature and study her devices, you will alone learnthe ways of the winds and how to prepare for them. Where does Spring sether first flag of truce--out in the windswept open?

No! the arbutus and hepatica lie bedded not alone in the fallen leavesof the forest but amid their own enduring foliage. The skunk cabbageraises his hooded head first in sheltered hollows. The marsh marigoldlies in the protection of bog tussocks and stream banks. The firstbloodroot is always found at the foot of some natural windbreak, whilethe shad-bush, that ventures farther afield and higher in air than any, is usually set in a protecting hedge, like his golden forerunner thespice-bush. 

If Nature looks to the ways of the wind when she plants, why should notwe? A bed of the hardiest roses set on a hill crest is a folly. Muchmore likely would they be to thrive wholly on the north side of it. Agarden set in a cut between hills that form a natural blowpipe can atbest do no more than hold its own, without advancing. 

But there are some things that belong to the never-never land and maynot be done here. You may plant roses and carnations in the shade or indry sea sand, but they will not thrive; you cannot keep upland liliescheerful with their feet in wet clay; you cannot have a garden all theyear in our northern latitudes, for nature does not; and you cannotafford to ignore the ways of the wind, for according as it is kind orcruel does it mean garden life or death!

 "Men, they say, know many things; But lo, they have taken wings, -- The arts and sciences, And a thousand appliances; The wind that blows Is all that anybody knows. "

 --THOREAU. 

II

THE BOOK OF THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I

_April 30. _ Gray dawn, into which father and Evan vanished with theirfishing rods; then sunrise, curtained by a slant of rain, during whichthe birds sang on with undamped ardour, a catbird making his début forthe season as soloist. 

It must not be thought that I was up and out at dawn. At twenty I did sofrequently, at thirty sometimes, now at thirty-five I _can_ do it_perfectly well_, if necessary, otherwise, save at the change ofseasons, to keep in touch with earth and sky, I raise myselfcomfortably, elbow on pillow, and through the window scan garden, wildwalk, and the old orchard at leisure, and then let my arm slip and theimpression deepen through the magic of one more chance for dreams. 

_9 o'clock. _ The warm throb of spring in the earth, rising in a potentmist, sap pervaded and tangible, having a clinging, unctuous softnesslike the touch of unfolding beech leaves, lured me out to finish thetransplanting of the pansies among the hardy roses, while the firstbrown thrasher, high in the bare top of an ash, eyes fixed on the sky, proclaimed with many turns and changes the exact spot where he did notintend to locate his nest. This is an early spring, of a truth. 

Presently pale sunbeams thread the mist, gathering colour as they filterthrough the pollen-meshed catkins of the black birches; an oriolebugling in the Yulan magnolias below at the road-bend, fire amid snow; ahigh-hole laughing his courtship in the old orchard. 

Then Lavinia Cortright coming up to exchange Dahlia bulbs and discussannuals and aster bugs. She and Martin browse about the country, visiting from door to door like veritable natives, while their garden, at first so prim and genteel, like one of Lavinia's own frocks, hasbroken bounds and taken on brocade, embroidery, and all sorts of lacefrills, overflowed the south meadow, and only pauses at the stile in thewall of our old crab-apple orchard, rivalling in beauty and refinedattraction any garden at the Bluffs. Martin's purse is fuller than ofyore, owing to the rise in Whirlpool real estate, and nothing is toogood for Lavinia's garden. Even more, he has of late let the dust restpeacefully on human genealogy and is collecting quaint garden books andherbals, flower catalogues and lists, with the solemn intent of writinga book on Historic Flowers. At least so he declares; but when Lavinia isin the garden, there too is Martin. To-day, however, he joined my menbefore noon at the lower brook. Fancy a house-reared man a convert tofishing when past threescore! Evan insists that it is because, beingabove all things consistent, he wishes to appear at home in the companyof father's cherished collection of Walton's and other fishing books. Father says, "Nonsense! no man can help liking to fish!"

[Illustration: "THE MAGNOLIAS BELOW AT THE ROAD-BEND. "]

Toward evening came home a creel lined with bog moss; within, a rainbowglimmer of brook trout, a posy of shad-bush, marsh marigolds, anemones, and rosy spring beauties from the river woods, --with three cheerfullytired men, who gathered by the den hearth fire with coffee cup and pipe, inside an admiring but sleepy circle of beagle hounds, who had run freethe livelong day and who could doubtless impart the latest rabbit newswith thrilling detail. All this and much more made up to-day, one of redletters. 

Yesterday, Monday, was quite different, and if not absolutely black, wasdecidedly slate coloured. It is only when some one of the household ispositively ill that the record must be set down in black characters, forwhat else really counts? Why is it that the city folk persist in judgingall rural days alike, that is until they have once really _lived_ in thecountry, not merely boarded and tried to kill time and their owndigestions at one and the same moment. 

Such exceptional days as yesterday should only be chronicled now andthen to give an added halo to happy to-morrows, --disagreeables areremembered quite long enough by perverse human nature. 

Yesterday began with the pipe from the water-back bursting, therebydoing away with hot water for shaving and the range fire at the sametime. The coffee resented hurry, and the contact with an oil stovedeveloped the peanutty side of its disposition, something that is latentin the best and most equable of brands. 

The spring timetable having changed at midnight Sunday, unobserved byEvan, he missed the early train, which it was especially important thathe should take. Three other men found themselves in the samepredicament, two being Bluffers and one a Plotter. (These are the namesgiven hereabout to our two colonies of non-natives. The Bluffers are thepeople of the Bluffs, who always drive to the station; the Plotters, living on a pretty tract of land near the village that was "plotted"into house-lots a few years ago, have the usual newcomer's hallucinationabout making money from raising chickens, and always walk. )

After a hasty consultation, one of the Bluffers telephoned for hisautomobile and invited the others to make the trip to town with him. Inorder to reach the north turnpike that runs fairly straight to the city, the chauffeur, a novice in local byways, proposed to take a short cutthrough our wood road, instead of wheeling into the pike belowWakeleigh. 

This wood road holds the frost very late, in spite of an innocentappearance to the contrary; this fact Evan stated tersely. Would achauffeur of the Bluffs listen to advice from a man living halfway downthe hill, who not only was autoless but frequently walked to thestation, and therefore to be classed with the Plotters? Certainly not;while at the same moment the owner of the car decided the matter bypulling out his watch and murmuring to his neighbour something about animportant committee meeting, and it being the one day in the month whentime meant money!

Into the road they plunged, and after several hair-breadth lurches, forthe cut is deep and in places the rocks parallel with the roadway, theturnpike was visible; then a sudden jolt, a sort of groan from themotor, and it ceased to breathe, the heavy wheels having settled in atreacherous spot not wholly free from frost, its great stomach, orwhatever they call the part that holds its insides, wallowed hopelesslyin the mud!

The gentlemen from the Bluffs deciding that, after all, there was noreal need of going to town, as they had only moved into the country theweek previous, and the auto owner challenged to a game of billiards byhis friend, they returned home, while the Plotter and Evan walked backtwo miles to the depot and caught the third train!

At home things still sizzled. Father had an important consultation atthe hospital at ten; ringing the stable call for the horses, he foundthat Tim, evidently forgetting the hour, had taken them, Evan's alsobeing of the trio, to the shoer half an hour before. There was amoment's consternation and Bertel left the digging over of my hardy bedsto speed down to the village on his bicycle, and when the stanhopefinally came up, father was as nearly irritable as I have ever seen him, while Tim Saunders's eyes looked extra small and pointed. EvidentlyBertel had said things on his own account. 

Was an explosion coming at last to end twelve years of out-of-doorpeace, also involving my neighbour and domestic standby, Martha CorkleSaunders?

No; the two elderly men glanced at each other; there was nothing of thedomineering or resentful attitude that so often renders difficult therelation of master and man--"I must be getting old and forgetful, " quothfather, stepping into the gig. 

"Nae, it's mair like I'm growin' deef in the nigh ear, " said Tim, andwithout further argument they drove away. 

I was still pondering upon the real inwardness of the matter, when theboys came home to luncheon. Two hungry, happy boys are a tonic at anytime, and for a time I buttered bread--though alack, the real necessityfor so doing has long since passed--when, on explaining father's absencefrom the meal, Ian said abruptly, "Jinks! grandpa's gone the day before!he told Tim _Tuesday_ at 'leven, I heard him!"

But, as it chanced, it was a slip of tongue, not memory, and I blessedTimothy Saunders for his Scotch forbearance, which Evan insists uponcalling prudence. 

My own time of trial came in the early afternoon. During the more thanten years that I have been a gardener on my own account, I havenaturally tried many experiments and have gradually come to theconclusion that it is a mistake to grow too many species offlowers, --better to have more of a kind and thus avoid spinkiness. Thepink family in general is one of those that has stood the test, and thisyear a cousin of Evan's sent me over a quantity of Margaret carnationseed from prize stock, together with that of some exhibition singleDahlias. 

Late in February I sowed the seed in two of the most protected hotbeds, muffled them in mats and old carpets every night, almost turned myselfinto a patent ventilator in order to give the carnations enough airduring that critical teething period of pinks, when the first grasslikeleaves emerge from the oval seed leaves and the little plants are apt toweaken at the ground level, damp off, and disappear, thinned them outwith the greatest care, and had (day before yesterday) full five hundredlusty little plants, ready to go out into the deeply dug cool bed andthere wax strong according to the need of pinks before summer heat gainsthe upper hand. 

The Dahlias had also thriven, but then they are less particular, and ifthey live well will put up with more snubs than will a carnation. 

Weather and Bertel being propitious, I prepared to plant out my pets, though of course they must be sheltered of nights for another halfmonth. As I was about to remove one of the props that held the sashaloft, to let in air to the Dahlias, and still constitute it awindbreak, I heard a violent whistling in our grass road north of thebarn that divides the home acres from the upper pastures and Martha'schicken farm. At first I thought but little of it, as many people use itas a short cut from the back road from the Bluffs down to the village. Soon a shout came from the same direction, and going toward the wall, Isaw Mr. Vandeveer struggling along, his great St. Bernard Jupiter, prizewinner in a recent show and but lately released from winter confinement, bounding around and over him to such an extent that the spruce NewYorker, who had the reputation of always being on dress parade from themoment that he left bed until he returned to it in hand-embroidered pinksilk pajamas, was not only covered with abundant April mud, but couldhardly keep his footing. 

At the moment I spied the pair, a great brindled cat, who sometimesventures on the place, in spite of all the attentions paid her by thebeagles, and who had been watching sparrows in the barnyard, sprang tothe wall. Zip! There was a rush, a snarl, a hiss, and a smash! Dog andwhat had been cat crashed through the sash of my Dahlia frame, and inthe rebound ploughed into the soft earth that held the carnations. 

The next minute Mr. Vandeveer absolutely leaped over the wall, andseeing the dog, apparently in the midst of the broken glass, turnedalmost apoplectic, shouting, "Ah, his legs will be cut; he'll be ruined, and Julie will never forgive me! He's her best dog and cost $3000 spotcash! Get him out, somebody, why don't you? What business have peopleto put such dangerous skylights near a public road?"

Meanwhile, as wrath arose in my throat and formed ugly words, Jupiter, agreat friend of ours, who has had more comfortable meals in our kitchenduring the winter than the careless kennel men would have wished to beknown, sprang toward me with well-meant, if rough, caresses, --evidentlythe few scratches he had amounted to nothing. I forgave him the catcheerfully, but my poor carnations! They do not belong to the grovellingtribe of herbs that bend and refuse to break like portulaca, chickweed, and pusley the accursed. Fortunately, just then, a scene of the pastyear, which had come to me by report, floated across my vision. Ouryoung hounds, Bob and Pete, in the heat of undisciplined rat-catching(for these dogs when young and unbroken will chase anything that runs), completely undermined the Vandeveers' mushroom bed, the door of the pithaving been left open!

When Mr. Vandeveer recovered himself, he began profuse apologies. Would"send the glazier down immediately"--"so sorry to spoil such lovelyyoung onions and spinach!"

"What! not early vegetables, but flowers?" Oh, then he should not feelso badly. Really, he had quite forgotten himself, but the truth wasJulie thought more of her dogs and horses than even of himself, hesometimes thought, --almost, but not quite; "ha! ha! really, don't youknow!" While, judging by the comparative behaviour of dog and man, thebalance was decidedly in favour of Jupiter. But you see I never like menwho dress like ladies, I had lost my young plants, and I love dogs frommongrel all up the ladder (lap dogs excepted), so I may be prejudiced. 

After Bertel had carefully removed the splintered glass from the earth, so that I could take account of my damaged stock, about half seemed tobe redeemable; but even those poor seedlings looked like soldiers afterbattle, a limb gone here and an eye missing there. 

At supper father, Evan, and I were silent and ceremoniously polite, neither referring to the day's disasters, and I could see that the boyswere regarding us with open-eyed wonder. When the meal was almostfinished, the bell of the front door rang and Effie returned, bearing alarge, ornamental basket, almost of the proportions of a hamper, with acard fastened conspicuously to the handle, upon which was printed "Withapologies from Jupiter!" Inside was a daintily arranged assortment ofhothouse vegetables, --cucumbers, tomatoes, eggplant eggs, artichokes, --with a separate basket in one corner brimming withstrawberries, and in the other a pink tissue-paper parcel, tied withribbon, containing mushrooms, proving that, after all, fussy Mr. Vandeveer has the saving grace of humour. 

My righteous garden-indignation dwindled; laughter caught me by thethroat and quenched the remainder. Evan, knowing nothing of theconcatenation, but scenting something from the card, joinedsympathetically. Glancing at father, I saw that his nose was twitching, and in a moment his shoulders began to shake and he led the generalconfession that followed. It seems that he arrived at the hospitalreally the day of the consultation, but found that the patient, in needof surgical care, had been seized with nervous panic and gone home!

After such a thoroughly vulgar day there is really nothing to do butlaugh and plan something pleasant for to-morrow, unless you prefercrying, which, though frequently a relief to the spirit, is particularlybad for eye wrinkles in the middle-aged. 

_May-day. _ I always take this as a holiday, and give myself up to anysort of outdoor folly that comes into my head. There is nothing morerejuvenating than to let one's self thoroughly go now and then. 

Then, besides, to an American, May-day is usually a surprise in itself. You never can tell what it will bring, for it is by no means theamiable and guileless child of the poets, breathing perfumed south windand followed by young lambs through meadows knee deep in grass andflowers. 

In the course of fifteen years I have seen four May-days when there wasenough grass to blow in the wind and frost had wholly left for theseason; to balance this there have been two brief snow squalls, threedeluges that washed even big beans out of ground, and a scorchingdrought that reduced the brooks, unsheltered by leafage, to Augustshallowness. But to-day has been entirely lovable and full of thepromise that after all makes May the garden month of the year, the timeof perfect faith, hope, and charity when we may believe all things!

This morning I took a stroll in the woods, partly to please the dogs, for though they always run free, they smile and wag furiously when theysee the symptoms that tell that I am going beyond the garden. What adifference there is between the north and south side of things! On thesouth slope the hepaticas have gone and the columbines show a trace ofred blood, while on the north, one is in perfection and the other onlyas yet making leaves. This is a point to be remembered in the garden, bywhich the season of blooming can be lengthened for almost all plantsthat do not demand full, unalloyed sun, like the rose and pink families. 

Every year I am more and more surprised at the hints that can be carriedfrom the wild to the cultivated. For instance, the local soil in whichthe native plants of a given family nourish is almost always sure toagree better with its cultivated, and perhaps tropical, cousin than themost elaborately and scientifically prepared compost. This is a matterthat both simplifies and guarantees better success to the woman who isher own gardener and lives in a country sufficiently open for her to beable to collect soil of various qualities for special purposes. Lilieswere always a very uncertain quantity with me, until the idea occurredof filling my bed with earth from a meadow edge where _LiliumCanadense_, year after year, mounted her chimes of gold and copper bellson leafy standards often four feet high. 

We may read and listen to cultural ways and methods, but when all issaid and done, one who has not a fat purse for experiments and failuresmust live the outdoor life of her own locality to get the best resultsin the garden. 

Then to have a woman friend to compare notes with and prove rules by isa comforting necessity. No living being can say positively, "I _will_ doso and so;" or "I _know_, " when coming in contact with the wise oldearth!

Lavinia Cortright has only had a garden for half a dozen summers, andconsults me as a veteran, yet I'm discovering quite as much from herexperiments as she from mine. Last winter, when seed-catalogue time cameround, and we met daily and scorched our shoes before the fire, drinkinga great deal too much tea in the excitement of making out our lists, weresolved to form a horticulture society of only three members, of whichshe elected me the recording secretary, to be called "The Garden, You, and I. "

We expect to have a variety of experiences this season, and frequentmeetings both actual and by pen, for Lavinia, in combination with Horaceand Sylvia Bradford, last year built a tiny shore cottage, three milesup the coast, at Gray Rocks, where they are going for alternate weeks ordays as the mood seizes them, and they mean to try experiments with realseashore gardening, while Evan proposes that we should combine pleasurewith business in a way to make frequent vacations possible and takedriving trips together to many lovely gardens both large and small, toour mutual benefit, his eyes being open to construction and landscapeeffect, and mine to the soul of the garden, as it were; for he ispleased to say that a woman can grasp and translate this more easily andfully than a man. What if the records of The Garden, You, and I shouldturn into a real book, an humble shadow of "Six of Spades" of jovialmemory! Is it possible that I am about to be seized with AgamemnonPeterkin's ambition to write a book to make the world wise? Alas, poorAgamemnon! When he had searched the woods for an oak gall to make ink, gone to the post-office, after hours, to buy a sheet of paper, andcaused a commotion in the neighbourhood and rumour of thieves by goingto the poultry yard with a lantern to pluck a fresh goose quill for apen, he found that he had nothing to say, and paused--thereby, at least, proving his own wisdom. 

I'm afraid I ramble too much to be a good recording secretary, but thishabit belongs to my very own garden books that no critical eyes can see. That reminds me! Father says that he met Bartram Penrose in town lastweek and that he seemed rather nervous and tired, and worried aboutnothing, and wanted advice. After looking him over a bit, father toldhim that all he needed was a long vacation from keeping train, as wellas many other kinds of time, for it seems during the six years of hismarriage he has had no real vacation but his honeymoon. 

Mary Penrose's mother, my mother, and Lavinia Cortright were all schoolfriends together, and since Mary married Bartram and moved to Woodridgewe've exchanged many little visits, for our husbands agree, and nowthat she has time she is becoming an enthusiastic gardener, after my ownheart, having last season become convinced of the ugliness of cannas andcoleus beds about a restored colonial farmhouse. Why might they not joinus on our driving trips, by way of their vacation?

Immediately I started to telephone the invitation, and then paused. Iwill write instead. Mary Penrose is on the long-distance line, --tollthirty cents in the daytime! In spring I am very stingy; thirty centsmeans six papers of flower seeds, or three heliotropes. Whereas inwinter it is simply thirty cents, and it must be a very vapidconversation indeed that is not worth so much on a dark winter day ofthe quality when neither driving nor walking is pleasant, and if you getsufficiently close to the window to see to read, you develop a stiffneck. Also, the difficulty is that thirty cents is only the beginning ofa conversation betwixt Mary Penrose and myself, for whoever begins itusually has to pay for overtime, which provokes quarterly discussion. Isit not strange that very generous men often have such serious objectionsto the long-distance tails to their telephone bills, and insist uponinvestigating them with vigour, when they pay a speculator an extradollar for a theatre ticket without a murmur? They must remember thattelephones, whatever may be said to the contrary, are one of the modernaids to domesticity and preventives of gadding, while still keeping onenot only in touch with a friend but within range of the voice. Surelythere can be no woman so self-sufficient that she does not in silentmoments yearn for a spoken word with one of her kind. 

When I had finished sowing my first planting of mignonette and growledat the prospective labour entailed by thinning out the fall-sown Shirleypoppies (I have quite resolved to plant everything in thevegetable-garden seed beds and then transplant to the flowering beds asthe easier task), Lavinia Cortright came up, note-book in hand, invitingherself comfortably to spend the day, and thoroughly inspect the hardyseed bed, to see what I had for exchange, as well as perfect her plan ofstarting one of her own. 

By noon the sun had made the south corner, where the Russian violetsgrow, quite warm enough to make lunching out-of-doors possible, andpromising to protect Lavinia's rather thinly shod feet from the groundwith one of the rubber mats whereon I kneel when I transplant, sheconsented to thus celebrate the coming of the season of liberty, doorsopen to the air and sun, the soul to every whisper of Heart of Naturehimself, the steward of the plan and eternal messenger of God. 

"Hard is the heart that loveth naught in May!" Yes, so hard that it isno longer flesh and blood, for under the spell of renewal every grassblade has new beauty, every trifle becomes of importance, and the humblesong sparrow a nightingale. 

The stars that blazed of winter nights have fallen and turned todandelions in the grass; the Forsythias are decked in gold, a colourthat is carried up and down the garden borders in narcissus, dwarftulips, and pansies, peach blossoms giving a rosy tinge to the snow fallof cherry bloom. 

To-day there are two catbirds, Elle et Lui, and the first Johnny Wren isinspecting the particular row of cottages that top the long screen ofhoneysuckles back of the walk named by Richard _Wren Street_. Why is thesong sparrow calling "Dick, Dick!" so lustily and scratching so testilyin the leaves that have drifted under an old rose shrub? The birds' bathand drinking basin is still empty; I pour out the libation to the day byfilling it. 

The seed bed is reached at last. It has wintered fairly well, and thelines of plants all show new growth. As I started to point out andexplain, Lavinia Cortright began to jot down name and quantity, andthen, stopping, said: "No, you must write it out as the first record forThe Garden, You, and I. I make a motion to that effect. " As I was aboutto protest, the postman brought some letters, one being from MaryPenrose, to whom Mrs. Cortright stands as aunt by courtesy. I opened it, and spreading it between us we began to read, so that afterward Laviniadeclared that her motion was passed by default. 

 "WOODRIDGE, _April_ 30. "MY DEAR MRS. EVAN, "I am going into gardening in earnest this spring, and I want you andAunt Lavinia to tell me things, --things that you have done yourselvesand succeeded or failed in. Especially about the failures. It is a greatmistake for garden books and papers to insist that there is no such wordin horticulture as fail, that every flower bed can be kept in fullflower six months of the year, in addition to listing things that willbloom outdoors in winter in the Middle States, and give all floralmeasurements as if seen through a telephoto lens. It makes one feel theexceptional fool. It's discouraging and not stimulating in the least. Doesn't even nature meet with disaster once in a while as if by way ofencouragement to us? And doesn't nature's garden have on and offseasons? So why shouldn't ours?

"There is a quantity of _Garden Goozle_ going about nowadays that is asunbelievable, and quite as bad for the constitution and pocket, as theguarantees of patent medicines. No, _Garden Goozle_ is not my word, youmust understand; it was invented by a clever professor of agriculture, whom Bart met not long ago, and we loved the word so much that we haveadopted it. The mental quality of _Garden Goozle_ seems to be compoundedof summer squash and milkweed milk, and it would be quite harmless wereit not for the strong catbriers grafted in the mass for impaling thepurses of the trusting. 

"Ah, if we only lived a little nearer together, near enough to talk overthe garden fence! It seems cruel to ask you to write answers to all myquestions, but after listing the hardy plants I want for putting thegarden on a consistent old-time footing, I find the amount runs quite tothe impossible three figures, aside from everything else we need, soI've decided on beginning with a seed bed, and I want to know before welocate the new asparagus bed how much ground I shall need for a seedbed, what and how to plant, and everything else!

"I like all the hardy things you have, especially those that are mice, lice, and water proof! If you will send me ever so rough a list, Ishall be grateful. Would I better begin at once or wait until July orAugust, as some of the catalogues suggest?

"Bart has just come in and evidently has something on his mind of whichhe wishes to relieve himself via speech. 

 "Your little sister of the garden, "MARY P. "

"She must join The Garden, You, and I, " said Lavinia Cortright, almostbefore I had finished the letter. "She will be entertainer in chief, forshe never fails to be amusing!"

"I thought there were to be but three members, " I protested, thinking ofthe possible complications of a three-cornered correspondence. 

"Ah, well, " Lavinia Cortright replied quickly, "make the Garden an_Honorary_ member; it is usual so to rank people of importance from whommuch is expected, and then we shall still be but three--with privilegeof adding your husband as councillor and mine as librarian and custodianof deeds!"

So I have promised to write to Mary Penrose this evening. 

III

CONCERNING HARDY PLANTS

THE SEED BED FOR HARDY FLOWERS

When the Cortrights first came to Oaklands, expecting to remain here buta few months each summer, their garden consisted of some borders ofold-fashioned, hardy flowers, back of the house. These bounded astraight walk that, beginning at the porch, went through an arched grapearbour, divided the vegetable garden, and finally ended under a tree inthe orchard at the barrier made by a high-backed green wooden seat, thatlooked as if it might have been a pew taken from some primitive churchon its rebuilding. 

There were, at intervals, along this walk, some bushes of lilacs, bridal-wreath spirea, flowering almond, snowball, syringa, and scarletflowering quince; for roses, Mme. Plantier, the half double Boursault, and some great clumps of the little cinnamon rose and Harrison's yellowbrier, whose flat opening flowers are things of a day, these twovarieties having the habit of travelling all over a garden by means oftheir root suckers. Here and there were groups of tiger and lemonlilies growing out of the ragged turf, bunches of scarlet bee balm, orOswego tea, as it is locally called, while plantain lilies, with deeplyribbed heart-shaped leaves, catnip, southernwood, and mats of grasspinks. Single hollyhocks of a few colours followed the fence line; tallphlox of two colours, white and a dreary dull purple, rambled into thegrass and was scattered through the orchard, in company with New Englandasters and various golden rods that had crept up from the wastepasture-land below; and a straggling line of button chrysanthemums, yellow, white, maroon, and a sort of medicinal rhubarb-pink, had backedup against the woodhouse as if seeking shelter. Lilies-of-the-valleyplanted in the shade and consequently anæmic and scant of bells, blendedwith the blue periwinkle until their mingled foliage made a great shieldof deep, cool green that glistened against its setting of faded, untrimmed grass. 

This garden, such as it was, could be truly called hardy, insomuch asall the care it had received for several years was an annual cutting ofthe longest grass. The fittest had survived, and, among herbaceousthings, whatsoever came of seed, self-sown, had reverted nearly to theoriginal type, as in the case of hollyhocks, phlox, and a few commonannuals. The long grass, topped by the leaves that had drifted in andbeen left undisturbed, made a better winter blanket than many peoplefurnish to their hardy plants, --the word _hardy_ as applied to theinfinite variety of modern herbaceous plants as produced by selectionand hybridization not being perfectly understood. 

While a wise selection of flowering shrubs and truly hardy roses will, if properly planted, pruned, and fertilized, live for many years, certain varieties even outlasting more than one human generation, themodern hardy perennial and biennial of many species and sumptuouseffects must be watched and treated with almost as much attention as theso-called bedding-plants demand in order to bring about the bestresults. 

The common idea, fostered by inexperience, and also, I'm sorry to say, by what Mary Penrose dubs _Garden Goozle_, that a hardy garden onceplanted is a thing accomplished for life, is an error tending to bitterdisappointment. If we would have a satisfactory garden of any sort, wemust in our turn follow Nature, who never rests in her processes, nevereven sleeping without a purpose. But if fairly understood, lookedsquarely in the face, and treated intelligently, the hardy garden, supplemented here and there with annual flowers, is more than worthwhile and a perpetual source of joy. If money is not an object to theplanter, she may begin by buying plants to stock her beds, alwaysremembering that if these thrive, they must be thinned out or the clumpssubdivided every few years, as in the case of hybrid phloxes, chrysanthemums, etc. , or else dug up bodily and reset; for if this isnot done, smaller flowers with poorer colours will be the result. 

The foxglove, one of the easily raised and very hardy plants, ofmajestic mien and great landscape value, will go on growing in onelocation for many years; but if you watch closely, you will find that itis rarely the original plant that has survived, but a seedling from itthat has sprung up unobserved under the sheltering leaves of its parent. The old plant grows thick at the juncture of root stock and leaf, theaction of the frost furrows and splits it, water or slugs gain anentrance, and it disappears, the younger growth taking its place. Especially true is this also of hollyhocks. The larkspurs have differentroots and more underground vigour, and all tap-rooted herbs hold theirown well, the difficulty being to curb their spreading and underminingtheir border companions. 

[Illustration: ENGLISH LARKSPUR SEVEN FEET HIGH. ]

It is conditions like these that keep the gardener of hardy things everon the alert. Beds for annuals or florists' plants are thoroughly dugand graded each spring, so that the weeds that must be combated areof new and comparatively shallow growth. The hardy bed, on the contrary, in certain places must be stirred with a fork only and that with thegreatest care, for, if well-planned, plants of low growth will carpetthe ground between tall standing things, so that in many spots thefingers, with a small weeding hoe only, are admissible. Thus a blade ofgrass here, some chickweed there, the seed ball of a composite droppingin its aerial flight, and lo! presently weedlings and seedlings arewrestling together, and you hesitate to deal roughly with one for fearof injuring the constitution of the other. To go to the other extremeand keep the hardy garden or border as spick and span clean as a row ofonions or carrots in the vegetable garden, is to do away with theinformality and a certain gracious blending of form and colour that isone of its greatest charms. 

Thus it comes about, with the most successful of hardy mixed borders, that, at the end of the third season, things will become a littleconfused and the relations between certain border-brothers slightlystrained; the central flowers of the clumps of phloxes, etc. , growsmall, because the newer growth of the outside circle saps theirvitality. 

Personally, I believe in drastic measures and every third or fourthyear, in late September, or else April, according to season and othercontingencies, I have all the plants carefully removed from the beds andranged in rows of a kind upon the broad central walk. Then, after thebed is thoroughly worked, manured, and graded, the plants are dividedand reset, the leavings often serving as a sort of horticultural wampum, the medium of exchange among neighbours with gardens, or else going as afreewill offering to found a garden for one of the "plotters" who needsencouragement. 

The limitations of the soil of my garden and surroundings serve as thebasis of an experience that, however, I have found carried outpractically in the same way in the larger gardens of the Bluffs and inmany other places that Evan and I have visited. So that any one thinkingthat a hardy garden, at least of herbaceous plants, is a thing that, once established, will, if not molested, go on forever, after the mannerof the fern banks of the woods or the wild flowers of marsh and meadow, will be grievously disappointed. 

Of course, where hardy plants are massed, as in nurseries, horticulturalgardens, or the large estates, each in a bed or plot of its kind, thisresetting is far simpler, as each variety can receive the culture bestsuited to it, and there is no mixing of species. 

Another common error in regard to the hardy garden, aided and abettedby _Garden Goozle_, is that it is easy or even practicable to have everybed in a blooming and decorative condition during the whole season. Itis perfectly possible always to have colour and fragrance in some partof the garden during the entire season, after the manner of the naturalsequence of bloom that passes over the land, each bed in bloom some ofthe time, but not every bed all of the time. Artifice and not naturealone can produce this, and artifice is too costly a thing for the womanwho is her own gardener, even if otherwise desirable. For it shouldappeal to every one having a grain of garden sense that, if the plantsof May and June are to grow and bloom abundantly, those that come toperfection in July and August, if planted in their immediate vicinity, must be overshadowed and dwarfed. The best that can be done is to leavelittle gaps or lines between the hardy plants, so that gladioli, or someof the quick-growing and really worthy annuals, can be introduced tolend colour to what becomes too severely of the past. 

There is one hardy garden, not far from Boston, one of those where thelandscape architect lingers to study the possibilities of the formalside of his art in skilful adjustment of pillar, urn, pergola, andbasin, --this garden is never out of flower. At many seasons Evan and Ihad visited it, early and late, only to find it one unbroken sheet ofbloom. How was it possible, we queried? Comes a day when the complexsecret of the apparent simple abundance was revealed. It was as thefoxgloves, that flanked a long alley, were decidedly waning when, quiteearly one morning, we chanced to behold a small regiment of men removethe plants, root and branch, and swiftly substitute for them immensepot-grown plants of the tall flower snapdragon (_Antirrhinum_), perfectly symmetrical in shape, with buds well open and showing colour. These would continue in bloom quite through August and into September. So rapidly was the change made that, in a couple of hours at most, alltraces were obliterated, and the casual passer-by would have beenunaware that the plants had not grown on the spot. This sort of thing isa permissible luxury to those who can afford and desire an exhibitiongarden, but it is not watching the garden growing and quivering andresponding to all its vicissitudes and escapes as does the humble owner. Hardy gardening of this kind is both more difficult and costly, even ifmore satisfactory, than filling a bed with a rotation of florists'flowers, after the custom as seen in the parks and about club-houses: towit, first tulips, then pansies and daisies, next foliage plants orgeraniums, and finally, when frost threatens, potted plants of hardychrysanthemums are brought into play. 

No, The Garden, You, and I know that hardy plants, native andacclimated, may be had in bloom from hepatica time until ice crowns thelast button chrysanthemum and chance pansy, but to have every bed incontinuous bloom all the season is not for us, any more than it is to beexpected that every individual plant in a row should survive the frostupheavals and thaws of winter. 

If a garden is so small that half a dozen each of the ten or twelvebest-known species of hardy herbs will suffice, they may be bought ofone of the many reliable dealers who now offer such things; but if theplace is large and rambling, affording nooks for hardy plants of manykinds and in large quantities, then a permanent seed bed is a positivenecessity. 

This advice is especially for those who are now so rapidly taking up oldfarmsteads, bringing light again to the eyes of the window-panes thathave looked out on the world of nature so long that they were growingdim from human neglect. In these places, where land is reckoned by theacre, not by the foot, there is no excuse for the lack of seed beds forboth hardy and annual flowers (though these latter belong to anotherrecord), in addition to space for cuttings of shrubs, hardy roses, andother woody things that may be thus rooted. 

If there is a bit of land that has been used for a vegetable garden andis not wholly worn out, so much the better. The best seed bed I haveever seen belongs to Jane Crandon at the Jenks-Smith place on theBluffs. It was an old asparagus bed belonging to the farm, thoroughlywell drained and fertilized, but the original crop had grown thin andspindling from being neglected and allowed to drop its seed. 

In the birth of this bed the wind and sun, as in all happy gardens, hadbeen duly consulted, and the wind promised to keep well behind a thickwall of hemlocks that bounded it on the north and east whenever he wasin a cruel mood. The sun, casting his rays about to get the points ofcompass, promised that he would fix his eye upon the bed as soon as hehad bathed his face in mist on rising and turned the corner of thehouse, and then, after watching it until past noon, turn his back, so nowonder that the bed throve. 

Any well-located bit of fairly good ground can be made into a hardy seedbed, provided only that it is not where frozen water covers it inwinter, or in the way of the wind, coming through a cut or sweepingover the brow of a hill, for flowers are like birds in thisrespect, --they can endure cold and many other hardships, but they quailbefore the blight of wind. 

For all gardens of ordinary size a bit of ground ten feet by thirty feetwill be sufficient. If the earth is heavy loam and inclined to cake ormould, add a little sifted sand and a thin sprinkling of either nitrateof soda or one of the "complete" commercial manures. Barn-yard manure, unless very well rotted and thoroughly worked under, is apt to developfungi destructive to seedlings. This will be sufficient preparation ifthe soil is in average condition; but if the earth is old and worn out, it must be either sub-soiled or dug and enriched with barnyard (notstable) manure to the depth of a foot, or more if yellow loam is not metbelow that depth. 

If the bed is on a slight slope, so much the better. Dig a shallowtrench of six or eight inches around it to carry off the wash. An abrupthillside is a poor place for such a bed, as the finer seeds willinevitably be washed out in the heavy rains of early summer. If thesurface soil is lumpy or full of small stones that escape fine raking, it must be shovelled through a sand-screen, as it is impossible for themost ambitious seed to grow if its first attempt is met by the pressureof what would be the equivalent of a hundred-ton boulder to a man. 

It is to details such as these that success or failure in seed raisingis due, and when people say, "I prefer to buy plants; I am very unluckywith seeds, " I smile to myself, and the picture of something I onceobserved done by one of the so-called gardeners of my early married daysflits before me. 

The man scraped a groove half an inch deep in hard-baked soil, with apointed stick, scattered therein the dustlike seeds of the dwarf bluelobelia as thickly as if he had been sprinkling sugar on some very sourarticle, then proceeded to trample them into the earth with all theforce of very heavy feet. Of course the seeds thus treated foundthemselves sealed in a cement vault, somewhat after the manner oftreating victims of the Inquisition, the trickle of moisture that couldpossibly reach them from a careless watering only serving to prolongtheir death from suffocation. 

The woman gardener, I believe, is never so stupid as this; rather is shetempted to kill by kindness in overfertilizing and overwatering, but toolavish of seed in the sowing she certainly is, and I speak from theconviction born of my own experience. 

When the earth is all ready for the planting, and the sweet, moistodour rises when you open the seed papers with fingers almost tremblingwith eagerness, it seems second nature to be lavish. If a few seeds willproduce a few plants, why not the more the merrier? If they come up toothick, they can be thinned out, you argue, and thick sowing is being onthe safe side. But is it? Quite the contrary. When the seedlings appear, you delay, waiting for them to gain a good start before jarring theirroots by thinning. All of a sudden they make such strides that when youbegin, you are appalled by the task, and after a while cease pulling theindividual plants, but recklessly attack whole "chunks" at once, or elsegive up in a despair that results in a row of anæmic, drawn-outstarvelings that are certainly not to be called a success. After havingtried and duly weighed the labour connected with both methods, I find itbest to sow thinly and to rely on filling gaps by taking a plant hereand there from a crowded spot. For this reason, as well as that ofuniformity also, it is always better to sow seeds of hardy or annualflowers in a seed bed, and then remove, when half a dozen leaves appear, to the permanent position in the ornamental part of the garden. 

With annuals, of course, there are some exceptions to this rule, --in thecase of sweet peas, nasturtiums, mignonette, portulaca, poppies, andthe like, where great quantities are massed. 

When you have prepared a hardy seed bed of the dimensions of ten bythirty feet, which will allow of thirty rows, ten feet long and a footapart (though you must double the thirty feet if you intend to cultivatebetween the rows with any sort of weeding machine, and if you have roomthere should be two feet or even three between the rows), draw a gardenline taut across the narrow way of the plot at the top, snap it, and youwill have the drill for your first planting, which you may deepen if theseeds be large. 

Before beginning, make a list of your seeds, with the heights markedagainst each, and put the tallest at the top of the bed. 

"Why bother with this, when they are to be transplanted as soon as theyare fist up?" I hear Mary Penrose exclaim quickly, her head tipped toone side like an inquisitive bird. 

Because this seed bed, if well planned, will serve the double purpose ofbeing also the "house supply bed. " If, when the transplanting is done, the seedlings are taken at regular intervals, instead of all from onespot, those that remain, if not needed as emergency fillers, will bloomas they stand and be the flowers to be utilized by cutting for housedecoration, without depriving the garden beds of too much of theircolour. At the commercial florists, and in many of the large privategardens, rows upon rows of flowers are grown on the vegetable-gardenplan, solely for gathering for the house, and while those with limitedlabour and room cannot do this extensively, they can gain the same endby an intelligent use of their seed beds. 

Many men (and more especially many women), many minds, but however muchtastes may differ I think that a list of thirty species of herbaceousperennials should be enough to satisfy the ambition of an amateur, atleast in the climate of the middle and eastern United States. I havetried many more, and I could be satisfied with a few less. Of course bybuying the seeds in separate colours, as in the single case of pansies, one may use the entire bed for a single species, but the calculation ofsize is based upon either a ten-foot row of a mixture of one species, orelse that amount of ground subdivided among several colours. 

Of the seeds for the hardy beds themselves, the enticing cataloguesoffer a bewildering array. The maker of the new garden would try themall, and thereby often brings on a bit of horticultural indigestion inwhich gardener and garden suffer equally, and the resulting plantsfrequently perish from pernicious anæmia. Of the number of plantsneeded, each gardener must be the judge; also, in spite of many warningsand directions, each one must finally work on the lines of personallywon experience. What is acceptable to the soil and protected by certainshelter in my garden on one side of hill crest or road may not flourishin a different soil and exposure only a mile away. One thing is verycertain, however, --it is time wasted to plant a hardy garden ofherbaceous plants in shallow soil. 

In starting the hardy seed bed it is always safe to plant columbines, Canterbury bells, coreopsis, larkspur, pinks in variety, foxgloves, hollyhocks, gaillardia, the cheerful evergreen candy-tuft, bee balm andits cousin wild bergamot, forget-me-nots, evening primroses, and theday-flowering sundrops, Iceland and Oriental poppies, hybrid phlox, theprimrose and cowslips of both English fields and gardens, that are quitehardy here (at least in the coastwise New England and Middle states), double feverfew, lupins, honesty, with its profusion of lilac and whitebloom and seed vessels that glisten like mother-of-pearl, the tallsnapdragons, decorative alike in garden or house, fraxinella or gasplant, with its spikes of odd white flowers, and pansies, alwayspansies, for the open in spring and autumn, in rich, shady nooks allsummer, and even at midwinter a few tufts left in a sunny spot, at thebottom of a wall by the snowdrops, will surprise you with round, cheerful faces with the snow coverlet tucked quite under their chins. 

[Illustration: FRAXINELLA, --GERMAN IRIS AND CANDY-TUFT. ]

It is well to keep a tabulated list of these old-time perennials in the_Garden Boke_, so that in the feverish haste and excitement of theplanting season a mere glance will be a reminder of height, colour, andtime of bloom. I lend you mine, not as containing anything new ororiginal, but simply as a suggestion, a hint of what one garden hasfound good and writ on its honour list. Newer things and hybrids are nowendless, and may be tested and added, one by one, but it takes at leastthree seasons of this adorably unmonotonous climate of alternatedrought, damp, open or cold winter, to prove a plant hardy and worthy aplace on the honour roll. (See p. 376. )

Before you plant, sit down by yourself with the packages spread beforeyou and examine the seeds at your leisure. This is the first upliftingof the veil that you may see into the real life of a garden, a personalknowledge of the seed that mothers the perfect plant. 

It may seem a trivial matter, but it is not so; each seed, be itseemingly but a dust grain, bears its own type and identity. Also, fromits shape, size, and the hardness or thinness of its covering, you maylearn the necessities of its planting and development, for nowhere morethan in the seed is shown the miraculous in nature and the forethoughtand economy of it all. 

The smaller the seed, the greater the yield to a flower, as if to guardagainst chances of loss. The stately foxglove springs from a dust grain, and fading holds aloft a seed spike of prolific invention; the lupin hasstout, podded, countable seeds that must of necessity fall to the groundby force of weight. Also in fingering the seeds, you will know why someare slow in germinating: these are either hard and gritty, sandlike, like those of the English primrose, smooth as if coated with varnish, like the pansy, violet, columbine, and many others, or enclosed in arigid shell like the iris-hued Japanese morning-glories and otheripomeas. Heart of Nature is never in a hurry, for him time is not. Whatmatters it if a seed lies one or two years in the ground?

With us of seed beds and gardens, it is different. We wish presentvisible growth, and so we must be willing to lend aid, and first aid tosuch seeds is to give them a whiff of moist heat to soften what hasbecome more hard than desirable through man's intervention. For in wildnature the seed is sown as soon as it ripens, and falls to the care ofthe ground before the vitality of the parent plant has quite passedfrom it. That is why the seed of a hardy plant, self-sown at midsummer, grows with so much more vigour than kindred seed that has been lodged ina packet since the previous, season. 

My way of "first aiding" these seeds is to tie them loosely in a wisp offine cheese-cloth or muslin, leaving a length of string for a handle (astea is sometimes prepared for the pot by those who do not like mussy tealeaves). Dip the bag in hot (not boiling) water, and leave it there atleast an hour, oftentimes all night. In this way the seed is softenedand germination awakened. I have left pansy seeds in soak fortwenty-four hours with good results. Of course the seed should beplanted before it dries, and rubbing it in a little earth (after themanner of flouring currants for cake) will keep the seeds from stickingeither to the fingers or to each other. 

What a contrast it all is, our economy and nature's lavishness; ourimpatience, nature's calm assurance! In the garden the sower feels aresponsibility, the sweat beads stand on the brow in the sowing. Withnature undisturbed it may be the blind flower of the wild violetperfecting its moist seed under the soil, a nod of a stalk to the wind, a ball of fluff sailing by, or the hunger of a bird, and the sowing isdone. 

IV

THEIR GARDEN VACATION

(From Mary Penrose to Barbara Campbell)

 WOODRIDGE, _May_ 10. 

"DEAR MRS. EVAN, "For the past week I have been delving in the seed bed, and until it wasan accomplished fact, that is as far as putting on the top sheet offinely sifted dirt over the seeds sleeping in rows and rounding theedges after the most approved methods of bed-making, praying the whilefor a speedy awakening, I had neither fingers for pen, ink, and paper, nor the head to properly think out the answer to your May-dayinvitation. 

"So you have heard that we are to take a long vacation this summer, andtherefore ask us to join your driving and tramping trip in search ofgarden and sylvan adventure; in short to become your fellow-strollers inthe Forest of Arden, now transported to the Berkshires. 

"It was certainly a kind and gracious thought of yours to admitoutsiders into the intimacies of such a journey, and on the moment weboth cried, 'Yes, we will go!' and then appeared _but_--that littleword of three letters, and yet the condensation of whole volumes, thatis so often the stumbling-block to enthusiasm. 

"The translation of this particular _but_ will take a quire of paper, much ink, and double postage on my part, and a deal of perusive patienceon yours, so to proceed. Like much else that is hearable the report ispartly true, insomuch that your father, Dr. Russell, thinks it necessaryfor Bart to take a real vacation, as he put it, 'An entire change in aplace where time is not beaten insistently at the usualsixty-seconds-a-minute rate, day in and out, ' where he shall have notrain-catching or appointments either business or social hanging overhim. At the same time he must not hibernate physically, but be where hewill feel impelled to take plenty of open-air exercise, as a matter ofcourse! For you see, as a lawyer, Bart breathes in a great deal of badair, and his tongue and pen hand get much more exercise than do hislegs, while all the spring he has 'gone back on his vittles thatreckless it would break your heart, ' as Anastasia, our devoted, ifoutspoken, Celtic cook puts it. 

"The exact location of this desired valley of perfection, the ways andmeans of reaching it, as well as what shall become of the house andInfant during our absence, have formed a daily dialogue for the pastfortnight, or I should say triologue, for Anastasia has decidedopinions, and has turned into a brooding raven, informing us constantlyof the disasters that have overtaken various residents of the place whohave taken vacations, the head of one family having acquired typhoid inthe Catskills, a second injured his spine at the seaside by diving inshallow water, while the third was mistaken for a moose in Canada andshot. However, her interest is comforting from the fact that sheevidently does not wish to part with us at present. 

"It must be considered that if we take a really comfortable trip of acouple of months' duration, and Bart's chief is willing to allow him athree months' absence, as it will be his first real vacation since wewere married six years ago, it will devour the entire sum that we havesaved for improving the farm and garden. 

"You live on the place where you were born, which has developed bydegrees like yourselves, yet you probably know that rescuing, not anabandoned farm but the abode of ancient and decayed gentility, eventhough the house is oak-ribbed Colonial, and making it a tangible homefor a commuter, is not a cheap bit of work. 

"As to the Infant--to take a human four-and-a-half-year-old travelling, for the best part of a summer, is an imposition upon herself, herparents, and the public at large. To leave her with Bart's mother, whoseforte is Scotch crossed with Pennsylvania Dutch discipline, willprobably be to find on her return that she has developed a quaking fearof the dark; while, if she goes to my mother, bless her! who has thebeautiful and soothing Southern genius for doing the most comfortablething for the moment, regardless of consequences, the Infant for monthsafter will expect to be sung to sleep, my hand cuddled against hercheek, until I develop laryngitis from continued vocal struggles with'Ole Uncle Ned, ' 'Down in de Cane Brake, ' and 'De Possum and de Coon. '

"This mental and verbal struggle was brought to an end yesterday by _TheMan from Everywhere_. Do you remember, that was the title that we gaveRoss Blake, the engineer, two summers ago, when you and Evan visited us, because he was continually turning up and always from some new quarter?Just now he has been put in charge of the construction of the reservoirthat is to do away with our beloved piece of wild-flower river woods inthe valley below Three Brothers Hills. 

"As usual he turned up unexpectedly with Bartram Saturday afternoon and'made camp, ' as a matter of course. A most soothing sort of person isthis same _Man from Everywhere_, and a special dispensation to any womanwhose husband's best friend he chances to be, as in my case, for a manwho is as well satisfied with crackers, cheese, and ale as with yourvery best company spread, praises the daintiness of your guest chamber, but sleeps equally sound in a hammock swung in the Infant's atticplay-room, is not to be met every day in this age of finnickiness. Thenagain he has the gift of saying the right thing at difficult moments, and meaning it too, and though a born rover, has an almost femininesympathy for the little dilemmas of housekeeping that are so vital to usand yet are of no moment to the masculine mind. Yes, I do admire himimmensely, and only wish I saw an opportunity of marrying him eitherinto the family or the immediate neighbourhood, for though he is nearlyforty, he is neither a misanthrope nor a woman hater, but rather seemsto have set himself a difficult ideal and had limited opportunities. Once, not long ago, I asked him why he did not marry. 'Because, ' heanswered, 'I can only marry a perfectly frank woman, and the few of thatclan I have met, since there has been anything in my pocket to back mywish, have always been married!'

"'I have noticed that too, ' said Bart, whom I did not know waslistening; 'then there is nothing for us to do but find you a widow!'

"'No, that will not do, either; I want born, not acquired, frankness, for that is only another term for expediency, ' he replied with emphasis. 

"So you see this _Man_ is not only somewhat difficult, but he hasobserved!

"Last night after dinner, when the men drew their chairs toward thefire, --for we still have one, though the windows are open, --and thefragrance from the bed of double English violets, that you sent me, mingled with the wood smoke, we all began to croon comfortably. As soonas _he_ had settled back in the big chair, with closed eyes and fingertips nicely matched, we propounded our conundrum of taking three fromtwo and having four remain. 

"A brief summary of the five years we have lived here will make theneeds of the place more clear. 

"The first year, settling ourselves in the house and the arrival of theInfant completely absorbed ourselves, income, and a good bit of savings. Repairing the home filled the second year. The outdoor time and money ofthe third year was eaten up by an expensive and obliterative processcalled 'grading, ' a trap for newly fledged landowners. This meant takingall the kinks and little original attitudes out of the soil andreproving its occasional shoulder shrugs, so to speak, --Delsarte methodsapplied to the earth, --and you know that Evan actually laughed at us fordoing it. 

"Even in the beginning we didn't care much for this grading, but it wasin the plan that father Penrose had made for us by a landscape gardener, renowned about Philadelphia at the time he gave us the place as a 'startin life, ' so we felt in some way mysteriously bound by it. And I may aswell assert right here that, though it is well to have a clear idea ofwhat you mean to do in making a garden, or ever so small pleasuregrounds, that every bit of labour, however trivial, may go toward oneend and not have to be undone, a conventional plan unsympatheticallymade and blindly followed often becomes a cross between Fetish andJuggernaut. It has taken me exactly four years of blundering to findthat you must live your garden life, find out and study itspeculiarities and necessities yourself, just as you do that of yourindoor home, if success is to be the result!

"As it was, the grading began behind the lilac bushes inside the frontfence and proceeded in fairly graceful sweeps, dividing each side of thelevel bit where the old garden had been, the still remaining boxwoodbushes and outlines of walks and beds, saving this from obliteration, and meeting again at the drying yard. 

"Here the proceeding stopped abruptly, as if it had received a shock, which it had, as at this point the family purse wholly collapsed with ashudder, for the next requirement of the plan was the turning of a longcrest of rocky woodland, shaped like a three-humped camel, that boundedus on the northwest, into a series of terraces, to render the assentfrom a somewhat trim residential section to the pastures of the realfarming country next door less abrupt. 

"In its original state this spur of woodland had undoubtedly been verybeautiful, with hemlocks making a windbreak, and all manner of shrubs, wild herbs, and ferns filling in the leaf-mould pockets between theboulders. Now it is bare of everything except a few old hemlocks thatsweep the pasture and the rocks, wandering cattle and excursionists fromthe village, during the 'abandoned' period of the place, having causedhavoc among the shrubs and ferns. 

"Various estimates have been given, but $1000 seemed to be the averagefor carrying out the terrace plan even partially, as much blasting isinvolved, and $1000 is exactly one-fourth of the spendable part ofBart's yearly earnings!

"The flower garden also cries for proper raiment, for though theoriginal lines have been preserved and the soil put in a satisfactoryshape, in lieu of the hardy plants and old-time favourites that belongto such a place, in emergency we were reduced, last summer, to thequick-growing but monotonous bedding plants for fillers. Can you imagineanything more jarring and inconsistent than cannas, castor-oil beans, coleus, and nasturtiums in a prim setting of box?

"Then, too, last Christmas, Bart's parents sent us a dear old sundial, with a very good fluted column for a base. The motto reads 'Neverconsult me at night, ' which Bart insists is an admonition for us tokeep, chickenlike, early hours! Be this as it may, in order to live upto the dial, the beds that form its court must be consistentlyclothed--for cannas, coleus, and beans, read peonies, Madonna lilies, sweet-william, clove-pinks, and hollyhocks, which latter the seed bed Ihope will duly furnish. 

"All these details, and more too, I poured into the ears of _The Manfrom Everywhere_, while Bart kept rather silent, but I could tell by theway his pipe breathed, short and quick, that he was thinking hard. Onehas to be a little careful in talking over plans and wishes with Bart;his spirit is generous beyond his pocket-power and he is a bitsensitive. He wants to do so much for the Infant, the home, and me, thatwhen desire outruns the purse, he seems to feel that the limit liessomewhere within the range of his own incapacity, and that bare, camel-backed knoll outlining the horizon, as seen from the dining-roomwindow, showing the roof of the abandoned barn and hen yards, and thedifficulty of wrestling with it, is an especially tender spot. 

"'If it was anything possible, I'd hump my back and do it, but itisn't!' he jerked, knocking his pipe against the chimney-side before itwas half empty and then refilling it; 'it's either a vacation _or_ theknoll--which shall it be?

"'I don't hanker after leaving home, but that's what a complete changemeans, I suppose, though I confess I should enjoy a rest for a time fromtravelling to and fro, like a weaver's shuttle! Mary hates to leave hometoo; she's a regular sit-by-the-fire! Come, which shall it be? Thisindecision makes the cure worse than the disease!' and Bart fingered apenny prior to giving it the decisive flip--'head, a vacation; tail, anattack on the knoll!' The penny spun, and then taking a queer backwardleap fell into the ashes, where it lay buried. 

"'That reads like neither!' said Bart, sitting up with a start. 

"'No, both!' replied _The Man from Everywhere_, opening his eyes andgazing first at Bart and then at me with a quizzical expression. 

"Instantly curiosity was piqued, for compared to this most domestic oftravelled bachelors, the Lady from Philadelphia was without eitherforesight or resources. 

"'You said that your riddle was to take three from two and have four. Myplan is very simple; just add three to two and you have not only fourbut five! Take a vacation from business, but stay at home; do your owngarden improvements with your head and a horse and cart and a pair ofstrong hands with a pick and spade to help you out, for you can't, withimpunity, turn an office man, all of a sudden, into a day labourer. Asto hewing the knoll into terraces up and down again, tear up thatconfounded plan. Restore the ground on nature's lines, and you'll have abetter windbreak for your house and garden in winter than the bestengineer could construct, besides having a retreat for hot weather whereyou can sit in your bones without being observed by the neighbours!'

"He spoke very slowly, letting the smoke wreaths float before his eyes, as if in them he sought the solution he was voicing. 

"'A terrace implies closely shorn turf and formal surroundings, out ofkeeping with this place; besides, young people with only a general maidand a useful man can't afford to be formal, --if they would, the gameisn't worth the strain. ' (Did I not tell you that he observes?)

"'Let us take a look at the knoll to-morrow and see what has grown thereand guess at what may be coaxed to grow, and then you can spend a coupleof months during this summer and autumn searching the woods and bywaysfor native plants for the restoration. This reservoir building is youropportunity; you can rob the river valley with impunity, for theclearing will begin in October, consequently anything you take will bein the line of a rescue. So there you are--living in the fresh air, improving your place, and saving money at both ends. '

"'By George! It sounds well, as far as I'm concerned!' ejaculated Bart, 'but how will such a scheme give Mary a vacation from housekeeping andthe everlasting three meals a day? She seldom growls, but the last monthshe too has confessed to feeling tired. '

"'I think it's a perfectly fascinating idea, but how will it give Barta "complete change, away from the sound of the beat of time, " as thedoctor puts it?' I asked with more eagerness than I realized, for Ialways dislike to be far away from home at night, and you see there hasbeen whooping cough in the neighbourhood and there are also green applesto be reckoned with in season, even though the Infant has long agopassed safely through the mysteries of the second summer. 

"_The Man from Everywhere_ did not answer Bart at all, but, turning tome with the air of a paternal sage and pointing an authoritativeforefinger, said, somewhat sarcastically, I thought, 'What greaterchange can an American have than leisure in which to enjoy his own home?For giving Time the slip, all you have to do is to stop the clocks andfollow the sun and your own inclinations. As to living out of doors, theold open-sided hay barn on the pasture side of the knoll, that you havenot decided whether to rebuild or tear down, will make an excellentcamp. Aside from the roof, it is as open as a hawk's nest. Don't hurryyour decision; incubate the idea over Sunday, Madam Penrose, and I'llwarrant by Monday you will have hatched a really tangible plan, if not abrood of them. '

"I looked at Bart, he nodded back approvingly, so I slipped out, firstto see that the Infant was sleeping properly, head up, and not downunder the clothes, as I had once found her, and then to walk to and frounder the budding stars for inspiration, leaving the pair to talk themen's talk that is so good and nourishing for a married man like Bart, no matter how much he cares for the Infant and me. 

"Jumbled up as the garden is, the spring twilight veils all deficienciesand releases persuasive odours from every corner, while the knoll, withits gnarled trees outlined against the sky, appealed to me as neverbefore, a thing desirable and to be restored and preserved even at acost rather than obliterated. 

"'Oh, Mrs. Evan, I wish I could tell you how _The Man's_ plan touches meand seems made for me especially this spring. I seem fairly to have apassion for home and the bit of earth about and sky above it that is allour own. And unlike other times when I loved to have my friends come andvisit me, and share and return the hospitality of neighbours, I want tobe alone with myself and Bart, to spend long days under the sky andtrees and have nothing come between our real selves and God, not eventhe ticking and dictation of a clock! There is so much that I want totell my husband just now, that cannot be put in words, and that he mayonly read by intuition. When I was younger and first married, I did notfeel this need so much, but now life seems to take on so much deeper ameaning! Do you understand? Ah, yes, I know you do! But I am wanderingfrom the point, just as I yearn to wander from all the stringencies oflife this summer. 

"Evidently seeing me, the Rural Delivery man whistled from his cart, instead of leaving the evening mail in its wren box, as usual. I went tothe gate rather reluctantly, I was so absorbed in garden dreams, tookthe letters from the carrier, and, as the men were still sitting in thedark, carried them up to the lamp in my own sitting room, littlerealizing that even at that moment I was holding the key to the 'reallytangible plan' in my hand. 

 * * * * *

"_The next morning. _ Two of the letters I received on Saturday nightwould have been of great importance if we were still planning to go awayfor a vacation, instead of hoping to stay at home for it. The first, from mother, told me that she and my brother expect to spend the summerin taking a journey, in which Alaska is to be the turning-point. Shebegs us to go with them and offers to give me her right-hand-reliable, Jane McElroy, who cared for me when a baby, to stay here with theInfant. The second letter was from Maria Maxwell, a distant cousin ofBart's. She has also heard of our intended vacation, --indeed therapidity with which the news travels and the interest it causes are goodproofs of our stay-at-home tendencies and the general sobriety of oursix years of matrimony!

"Maria is a very bright, adaptable woman of about thirty-five, whoteaches music in the New York public schools, is alone in the world, andmanages to keep an attractive home in a mere scrap of a flat. When shecomes to visit us, we like her as well the last day of her stay as thefirst, which fact speaks volumes for her character! Though forced bycircumstances to live in town, she has a deep love for the country, andwishes, if we intend to leave the house open, to come and care for it inour absence, even offering to cook for herself if we do not care to havethe expense of a maid, saying, 'to cook a real meal, with a real fireinstead of gas, will be a great and refreshing change for me, so youneed feel under no obligation whatever!'

"Thinking of the pity of wasting such tempting offers as these, I wentto church with my body only, my mind staying outside under ahorse-chestnut tree, and instead of listening as I should, I lookedsidewise out of the window at my double in the shade and wondered if, after all, the stay-at-home vacation was not a wild scheme. There beinga Puritan streak in me, via my father, I sometimes question the right ofwhat I wish to do simply because I like to do it. 

"At dinner I was so grumpy, answering in monosyllables, that sensitiveBart looked anxious, and as if he thought I was disappointed at thepossible turn of affairs, but _The Man from Everywhere_ laughed, saying, 'Let her alone; she is not through incubating the plan, and you know thebest of setting hens merely cluck and growl when disturbed. '

"Immediately after dinner Bart and _The Man_ went for a walk up theriver valley, and I, going to the living room, seated myself by thewindow, where I could watch the Infant playing on the gravel outside, itbeing the afternoon out of both the general maid Anastasia and Barneythe man, between whom I suspect matrimonial intentions. 

"The singing of the birds, the hum of bees in the opening lilacs, andthe garden fragrance blending with the Infant's prattle, as she babbledto her dolls, floated through the open door and made me drowsy, and Iturned from the light toward the now empty fireplace. 

"A snap! and the air seemed suddenly exhilarating! Was it an electricspark from the telephone? No, simply the clarifying of the thoughts thathad been puzzling me. 

"Maria Maxwell shall come during our vacations, --at that moment Idecided to separate the time into several periods, --she shall takeentire charge of all within doors. 

"Bart and I will divide off a portion of the old hay-barn with screens, and camp out there (unless in case of very bad thunder or one of thecold July storms that we sometimes have). Anastasia shall serve us avery simple hot dinner at noon in the summer kitchen, and keep a supplyof cooked food in the pantry, from which we can arrange our breakfastsand suppers in the opposite side of the barn from our sleeping place, and there we can have a table, chairs, and a little oil stove for makingtea and coffee. 

"Maria, besides attending to domestic details, must also inspect themail and only show us letters when absolutely necessary, as well as tosay 'not at home, ' with the impenetrable New York butler manner to everyone who calls. 

"Thus Bart and I will be equally free without the rending of heartstrings--free to love and enjoy home from without, for it is reallystrange when one comes to think of it, we learn of the outside world bylooking out the windows, but we so seldom have time to stand in anotherview-point and look in. Thus it occurred to me, instead of taking onelong vacation, we can break the time into three or four in order tofollow the garden seasons and the work they suggest. A bit at the end ofMay for both planning and locating the spring wild flowers before theyhave wholly shed their petals, and so on through the season, ending inOctober by the transplanting of trees and shrubs that we have marked andin setting out the hardy roses, for which we shall have made a gardenaccording to the plan that Aunt Lavinia says is to be among the earlyGarden, You, and I records. 

"_May 15. _ Maria Maxwell has joyfully agreed to come the twenty-first, having obtained a substitute for her final week of teaching, as well asrented her 'parlor car, ' as she calls her flat, to a couple of studentswho come from the South for change of air and to attend summer school atColumbia College. It seems that many people look upon New York as asummer watering place. Strange that a difference in climate can bemerely a matter of point of view. 

"Now that we have decided to camp out at home, we are beginning torealize the positive economy of the arrangement, for as we are not goingamong people, --neither are they coming to us, --we shall need no newclothes!

"We, a pair of natural spendthrifts, are actually turning miserly forthe garden's sake. 

"Last night Bart went to the attic with a lantern and dragged fromobscurity two frightful misfit suits of the first bicyclecuff-on-the-pants period, that were ripening in the camphor chest forfuture missionary purposes, announcing that these, together with someflannel shirts, would be his summer outfit, while this morning I wentinto town and did battle at a sale of substantial, dollar shirt-waists, and turning my back upon all the fascinations of little girls' frillsand fur-belows, bought stout gingham for aprons and overalls, into whichI shall presently pop the Infant, and thus save both stitches andlaundry work. 

"Mother has sent a note expressing her pleasure in our plan andenclosing a cheque for $50, suggesting that it should be put into abirthday rose bed--my birthday is in two days--in miniature like the oldgarden at her home on the north Virginia border. I'm sending you thelist of such roses as she remembered that were in it, but I'm suremany, like Gloire de Dijon, would be winter killed here. Will you revisethe list for me?

"Bart has arranged to shut off the back hall and stairs, so that when wewish, we can get to our indoor bedroom and bath at any hour withoutgoing through the house or disturbing its routine. 

"Anastasia has been heard to express doubts as to our entire sanityconfidentially to Barney, on his return from the removal of two cotsfrom the attic to the part of the barn enclosed by some old piazzascreens, thereby publicly declaring our intention of sleeping out in allseasonable weather. 

"_May 20. _ The Blakes, next door below, are going to Europe, and haveoffered us their comfortable family horse, the buggy, and a light-workwagon, if we will feed, shoe, pet, and otherwise care for him (his name, it seems, is Romeo). Could anything be more in keeping with both ourdesires and needs?

"To-day, half as a joke, I've sent out P. P. C. Cards to all our formalfriends in the county. Bart frowns, saying that they may be takenseriously and produce like results!

"_May 22. _ Maria has arrived, taken possession of the market-book, housekeeping box, and had a satisfactory conference with Anastasia. 

"Hurrah for Liberty and outdoors! _It_ begins to-morrow. You may labelit Their Garden Vacation, and admit it to the records of The Garden, You, and I, at your own risk and peril; but as you say that if you areto boil down the practical part of your garden-boke experiences for thebenefit of Aunt Lavinia and me and I must send you my summer doings, Ishall take this way of accomplishing it, at intervals, the only regulartask, if gossiping to you can be so called, that I shall set myself thissummer. 

"A new moon to-night. Will it prove a second honeymoon, think you, orend in a total eclipse of our venture? I'm poppy sleepy!

"_May 23. _ 10 A. M. (A postal. ) Starting on vacation; stopped bedroomclock and put away watches last night, and so overslept. It seems quiteeasy to get away from Time! Please tell me what annuals I can plant aslate in the season as this, while we are locating the rose bed. 

 "MARY PENROSE. "

V

ANNUALS--WORTHY AND UNWORTHY

THE MIDSUMMER GARDEN

_Oaklands, May 25. _ A garden vacation! Fifty dollars to spend for roses!What annuals may be planted now to tide you easily over the summer?Really, Mary Penrose, the rush of your astonishing letter completelytook away my breath, and while I was recovering it by pacing up and downthe wild walk, and trying to decide whether I should answer yourquestions first, and if I did which one, or ask you others instead, Scotch fashion, about your unique summer plans, Evan came home a trainearlier than usual, with a pair of horticultural problems for which heneeded an immediate solution. 

Last evening, in the working out of these schemes, we found that we werereally travelling on lines parallel with your needs, and so in duecourse you shall have Evan's prescription and design for A Simple RoseGarden (if it isn't simple enough, you can begin with half, as theproportions will be the same), while I now send you my plans for aninexpensive midsummer garden, which will be useful to you only as a partof the whole chain, but for which Evan has a separate need. 

Over at East Meadow, a suburb of Bridgeton that lies toward the shoreand is therefore attractive to summer people, a friend of Evan's has putup a dozen tasteful, but inexpensive, Colonial cottages, and Evan hasplanned the grounds that surround them, about an acre being allotted toeach house, for lawn and garden of summer vegetables, though noarbitrary boundaries separate the plots. The houses are intended forpeople of refined taste and moderate means who, only being able to leavetown during the school vacation, from middle June to late September, yetdesire to have a bit of garden to tend and to have flowers about themother than the decorative but limited piazza boxes or row of geraniumsaround the porch. 

The vegetable gardens consist of four squares, conveniently intersectedby paths, these squares to be edged by annuals or bulbs of rapid growth, things that, planted in May, will begin to be interesting when thetenants come a month later. 

But here am I, on the verge of rushing into another theme, withouthaving expressed our disappointment that you cannot bear us companythis summer, yet I must say that the edge of regret is somewhat dulledby my interest in the progress and result of your garden vacation, whichto us at least is a perfectly unique idea, and quite worthy of theinventive genius of _The Man from Everywhere_. 

Plainly do I see by the scope of this same letter of yours that therecords of The Garden, You, and I, instead of being a confection ofundistinguishable ingredients blended by a chef of artistic soul, willbe a home-made strawberry shortcake, for which I am to furnish thenecessary but uninspired crust, while you will supply the filling offragrant berries. 

With the beginning of your vacation begin my questions domestic thatthreaten to overbalance your questions horticultural. If the Infantshould wail at night, do you expect to stay quietly out "in camp" andnot steal on tiptoe to the house, and at least peep in at the window?Also, you have put a match-making thought in a head swept clean of allsuch clinging cobwebs since Sukey Crandon married Carthy Latham and, turning their backs on his ranch experiment, they decided to settle nearthe Bradfords at the Ridge, where presently there will be another gardengrowing. If you have no one either in the family or neighbourhood likelyto attract _The Man from Everywhere_, why may we not have him? JaneCrandon is quite unexpectedly bright, as frank as society allows, thisbeing one of his requirements, besides having grown very pretty sinceshe has virtually become daughter to Mrs. Jenks-Smith and had sufficientmaterial in her gowns to allow her chest to develop. 

But more of this later; to return to the annuals, I understand that youhave had your hardy beds prepared and that you want something tobrighten them, as summer tenants, until early autumn, when the permanentresidents may be transplanted from the hardy seed bed. 

Annuals make a text fit for a very long sermon. Verily there are manykinds, and the topic forms easily about a preachment, for they may bedivided summarily into two classes, the worthy and the unworthy, thoughthe worth or lack of it in annuals, as with most of us humans, is amatter of climate, food, and environment, rather than inherent originalsin. The truth is, nature, though eternally patient and good-natured, will not be hurried beyond a certain point, and the life of a flowerthat is born under the light cloud shelter of English skies, fed bynourishing mist through long days that have enough sunlight to stimulateand not scorch, has a different consummation than with us, where theclimate of extremes makes the perfection of flowers most uncertain, atleast in the months of July and August when the immature bud of one dayis the open, but often imperfect, flower of the next. As no one maychange climatic conditions, the only thing to be done is to give to thisclass of flowers of the summer garden room for individual development, all the air they need to breathe both below ground, by frequent stirringof the soil, and above, by avoidance of over-crowding, and then selectonly those varieties that are really worth while. 

This qualification can best be settled by pausing and asking threequestions, when confronting the alluring portrait of anabove-the-average specimen of annual in a catalogue, for _Garden Goozle_applies not only to the literature of the subject, but to the picturesas well, and a measurement of, for instance, a flower stalk of Drummondphlox, taken from a specimen pot-grown plant, raised at least partlyunder glass, is sure to cause disappointment when the average borderplant is compared with it. 

First--is the species of a colour and length of flowering season to beused in jungle-like masses for summer colour? Second--has it fragranceor decorative quality for house decoration? Thirdly, has it thebackbone to stand alone or will the plant flop and flatten shapelesslyat the first hard shower and so render an array of conspicuous stakesnecessary? Stakes, next to unsightly insecticides and malodorousfertilizers, are the bane of gardening, but that subject is big enoughfor a separate chronicle. 

By ability to stand alone, I do not mean is every branchlet stiff as ifgalvanized, like a balsam, for this is by no means pretty, but is theplant so constructed that it can languish gracefully, petunia fashion, and not fall over stark and prone like an uprooted castor bean. Hybridization, like physical culture in the human, has evidently infusedgrace in the plant races, for many things that in my youth seemed theembodiment of stiffness, like the gladiolus, have developed suppleness, and instead of the stiff bayonet spike of florets, this useful andindefatigable bulb, if left to itself and not bound to a stake like amartyr, now produces flower sprays that start out at right angles, curve, and almost droop, with striking, orchid-like effect. 

For making patches of colour, without paying special heed to the size offlower or development of individual plants, annuals may be sown thinlybroadcast, raked in lightly, and, if the beds or borders are not toowide for reaching, thinned out as soon as four or five leaves appear. Portulaca, sweet alyssum, Shirley poppies, and the annual gaillardiasbelong to this class, as well as single petunias of the inexpensivevarieties used to edge shrubberies, and dwarf nasturtiums. 

Sweet peas, of course, are to be sown early and deep, where they are tostand half an inch apart, like garden peas, and then thinned out so thatthere is not less than an inch between (two is better, but it is usuallyheartbreaking to pull up so many sturdy pealets) and reënforced by brushor wire trellising. Otherwise I plant the really worthy, or what mightbe called major annuals, in a seed bed much like that used for the hardyplants, at intervals during the month of May, according to the earlinessof the season, and the time they are wanted to bloom. Later, Itransplant them to their summer resting places, leaving those that arenot needed, for it is difficult to calculate too closely withoutscrimping, in the seed bed, to cut for house decoration, as with theperennials. Of course if annuals are desired for very early flowering, many species may be started in a hotbed and taken from thence to theborders. Biennials that it is desired shall flower the first season arebest hurried in this way, yet for the gardenerless garden of a womanthis makes o'er muckle work. The occasional help of the "general useful"is not very efficient when it comes to tending hotbeds, giving theexact quantity of water necessary to quench the thirst of seedlingswithout producing dropsy, and the consequent "damping off" which, whenit suddenly appears, seems as intangible and makes one feel as helplessas trying to check a backing horse by helpless force of bit. A frame forMargaret carnations, early asters, and experiments in seedling Dahliasand chrysanthemums will be quite enough. 

The woman who lives all the year in the country can so manage that herspring bulbs and hardy borders, together with the roses, last well intoJuly. After this the annuals must be depended upon for ground colour, and to supplement the phloxes, gladioli, Dahlias, and the like. By theraising of these seeds in hotbeds they are apt to reach their high tideof bloom during the most intense heat of August, when they quicklymature and dry away; while, on the other hand, if they are reared in anopen-air seed bed, they are not only stronger but they last longer, owing to more deliberate growth. Asters sown out-of-doors in May bloomwell into October, when the forced plants barely outlast August. 

Of many annuals it is writ in the catalogues, "sow at intervals of twoweeks or a month for succession. " This sounds very plausible, for arenot vegetables so dealt with, the green string-beans in our garden beingalways sown every two weeks from early April until September first? Yes, but to vegetables is usually given fresher and deeper soil for the cropsuccession than falls to flower seeds, and in addition the seeds are ofa more rugged quality. 

My garden does not take kindly to this successive sowing, and I havegradually learned to control the flower-bearing period by difference inlocation. Spring, and in our latitude May, is the time of universal seedvitality, and seeds germinating then seem to possess the maximum ofstrength; in June this is lessened, while a July-sown seed of a commonplant, such as a nasturtium or zinnia, seems to be impressed by thelateness of the season and often flowers when but a few inches high, thewhole plant having a weazened, precocious look, akin to the progeny ofpeople, or higher animals, who are either born out of due season or ofelderly parents. On the other hand, the plant retarded in its growth bya less stimulating location, when it blooms, is quite as perfect and ofequal quality with its seed-bed fellows who were transplanted at onceinto full sunlight. 

Take, for example, mignonette, which in the larger gardens is alwaystreated by successive sowings. A row sown early in April, in a sunnyspot in the open garden and thinned out, will flower profusely beforevery hot weather, bloom itself out, and then leave room for some late, flowering biennial. That sown in the regular seed bed early in May maybe transplanted (for this is the way by which large trusses of bloom maybe obtained) early in June into three locations, using it as a borderfor taller plants, except in the bed of sweet odours, where it may beset in bunches of a dozen plants, for in this bed individuality may beallowed to blend in a universal mass of fragrance. 

In order to judge accurately of the exact capabilities for shade orsunlight of the different portions of a garden, one must live with it, follow the shadows traced by the tree fingers on the ground the yearthrough, and know its moods as the expressions that pass over a familiarface. For you must not transplant any of these annuals, that only liveto see their sun father for one brief season, into the shade of any treeor overhanging roof, but at most in the travelling umbra of a distantobject, such as a tall spruce, the northeastern side of a hedge, or suchlike. 

In my garden one planting of mignonette in full sun goes in front of theMarch-planted sweet peas; of the two transplantings from the seed, onegoes on the southwest side of the rose arbour and the other on the upperor northeast side, where it blooms until it is literally turned intogreen ice where it stands. 

This manipulation of annuals belongs to the realm of the permanentresident; the summer cottager must be content to either accept theconditions of the garden as arranged by his landlord, or in a briefvisit or two made before taking possession, do his own sowing where theplants are to stand. In this case let him choose his varieties carefullyand spare his hand in thickness of sowing, and he may have as manyflowers for his table and as happy an experience with the summer garden, even though it is brief, as his wealthy neighbour who spends manydollars for bedding plants and foliage effects that may be neithersmelled, gathered nor familiarized. 

Among all the numerous birds that flit through the trees as visitors, orelse stay with us and nest in secluded places, how comparatively few dowe really depend upon for the aerial colour and the song that opens aglimpse of Eden to our eager eyes and ears each year, for our eternalsolace and encouragement? There are some, like the wood thrush, song-sparrow, oriole, robin, barn-swallow, catbird, and wren, withoutwhich June would not be June, but an imperfect harmony lacking thedominant note. 

[Illustration: LONGFELLOW'S GARDEN. ]

Down close to the earth, yes, in the earth, the same obtains. Upon howfew of all the species of annuals listed does the real success of thesummer garden rest? This is more and more apparent each year, when thefittest are still further developed by hybridization for survival andthe indifferent species drop out of sight. 

We often think erroneously of the beauty of old-time gardens. Thisbeauty was largely that of consistency of form with the architecture ofthe dwelling and simplicity, rather than the variety, of flowers grown. Maeterlinck brings this before us with forcible charm in his essay onOld-Fashioned Flowers, and even now Martin Cortright is making a littlebiography of the flowers of our forefathers, as a birthday surprise forLavinia. These flowers depended more upon individuality and associationthan upon their great variety. 

First among the worthy annuals come sweet peas, mignonette, nasturtiums, and asters, each one of the four having two out of the three necessaryqualifications, and the sweet pea all of them, --fragrance and decorativevalue for both garden and house. To be sure, the sweet pea, though anannual, must be planted before May if a satisfactory, well-grown hedgewith flowers held on long stems well above the foliage is to beexpected, and in certain warm, well-drained soils it is practicable tosow seed the autumn before. This puts the sweet pea a little out of therunning for the hirer of a summer cottage, unless he can have access tothe place early in the season, but sown thinly and once fairly rootedand kept free from dead flowers and pods, the vines will go on yieldingquite through September, though on the coming of hot weather the flowerstems shorten. 

I often plant seeds of the climbing nasturtium in the row with the sweetpeas at a distance of one seed to the fist, the planting not being doneuntil late May. The peas mature first, and after the best of theirseason has passed they are supplanted by the nasturtiums, which coverthe dry vines and festoon the supporting brush with gorgeous colour inearly autumn, keeping in the same colour scheme with salvia, sunflowers, gaillardias, and tritomas. This is excellent where space is of account, and also where more sweet peas are planted for their early yield thancan be kept in good shape the whole season. Centaurea or cornflower, thebachelor's button or ragged sailor of old gardens, is in the front rankof the worthies. The flowers have almost the keeping qualities ofeverlastings, and are of easy culture, while the sweet sultan, also ofthis family, adds fragrance to its other qualities. The blue cornfloweris best sown in a long border or bed of unconventional shape, and may betreated like a biennial, one sowing being made in September so that theseedlings will make sturdy tufts before cold weather. These, if lightlycovered with salt hay or rough litter (not leaves), will bloom in Mayand June, and if then replaced by a second sowing, flowers may be hadfrom September first until freezing weather, so hardy is this true, blue_Kaiser-blumen_. 

All the poppies are worthy, from the lovely Shirley, with itsbutterfly-winged petals, to the Eschscholtzia, the state flower ofCalifornia. 

One thing to be remembered about poppies is not to rely greatly upontheir durability and make the mistake of expecting them to fill tooconspicuous a place, or keep long in the marching line of the gardenpageant. They have a disappointing way, especially the great, long-stemmed double varieties, of suddenly turning to impossibleparty-coloured mush after a bit of damp weather that is mostdiscouraging. Treated as mere garden episodes and massed here and therewhere a sudden disappearance will not leave a gap, they will yield afeast of unsurpassed colour. 

To me the Shirley is the only really satisfactory annual poppy, and Isow it in autumn and cover it after the fashion of the cornflower, asit will survive anything but an open, rainy winter, and in the resultingdisplay that lasts the whole month of June it rivals the roses ineverything but perfume. 

Godetia is a good flower for half-shady places that it is difficult tofill, and rings the colour change from white through pink to crimson andcarmine. Marigolds hold their own for garden colour, but not forgathering or bringing near the nose, and zinnias meet them on the sameplane. 

The morning-glory tribe of _ipomæa_ is both useful and decorative forrapid-growing screens, but heed should be taken that the commonvarieties be not allowed to scatter their seeds at random, or the nextseason, before you know it, every plant in the garden will be held tightin their insinuating grasp. Especially beautiful are the new ImperialJapanese morning glories that are exquisitely margined and fringed, andof the size and pattern of rare glass wine cups. Petunias, ifjudiciously used, and of good colour, belong in the second grade of thefirst rank. They have their uses, but the family has a morbid tendencyto run to sad, half-mourning hues, and I have put a black mark againstit as far as my own garden is concerned. 

Drummond phlox deserves especial mention, for so wide a colour rangehas it, and so easy is its growth (if only you give it plenty of waterand elbow room, and remember that a crowded Drummond phlox is an unhappyplant of short life), that a very tasteful group of beds could be madeof this flower alone by a careful selection of colours, while byconstant cutting for the house the length of the blooming season isprolonged. 

The dwarf salvias, too, grow readily from seed, and balsams, if one hasroom, line up finely along straight walks, the firm blossoms of thecamelia-flowered variety, with their delicate rosettes of pink, salmon, and lavender, also serving to make novel table decorations when arrangedin many ways with leaves of the laurel, English ivy, or fern fronds. 

Portulaca, though cousin to the objectionable "pusley, " is most usefulwhere mere colour is wanted to cover the ground in beds that have heldearly tulips or other spring bulbs, as well as for covering dry, sandyspots where little else will grow. It should not be planted until reallywarm weather, and therefore may be scattered between the rows ofnarcissi and late tulips when their tops are cut off, and by the timethey are quite withered and done away with, the cheerful portulaca, feeding upon the hottest sunbeams, will begin to cover the ground, apleasure to the eye as well as a decorative screen to the bulbsbeneath, sucking the fiercest sun rays before they penetrate. 

Chief among the low-growing worthies comes the verbena, good forbedding, good for cutting, and in some of the mammoth varieties subtlyfragrant. Verbenas may be raised to advantage in a hotbed, but if theseed be soaked overnight in warm water, it will germinate freely out ofdoors in May and be a mass of bloom from July until late October. Forbeds grouped around a sundial or any other garden centre, the verbenahas no peer; its trailing habit gives it grace, the flowers are borneerect, yet it requires no staking and it is easily controlled bypinching or pinning to the soil with stout hair-pins. 

One little fragrant flower, fraught with meaning and remembrance, belongs to the annuals, though its family is much better known among thehalf-hardy perennials that require winter protection here. This is thegold and brown annual wall-flower, slender sister of _die gelbe violet_, and having that same subtle violet odour in perfect degree. It cannot becalled a decorative plant, but it should have plenty of room given it inthe bed of sweet odours and be used as a border on the sunny side ofwall or fence, where, protected from the wind and absorbing every ray ofautumn sunlight, it will often give you at least a buttonhole bouqueton Christmas morning. 

[Illustration: THE SUMMER GARDEN--VERBENAS. ]

The cosmos is counted by catalogues and culturists one of the mostworthy of the newer annuals, and so it is when it takes heed to its waysand behaves its best, but otherwise it has all the terrible uncertaintyof action common to human and garden parvenues. From the very beginningof its career it is a conspicuous person, demanding room and abundanceof food. Thinking that its failure to bloom until frost threatened wasbecause I had sown the seed out of doors in May, I gave it a front roomin my very best hotbed early in March, where, long before the otheroccupants of the place were big enough to be transplanted, Mrs. Cosmosand family pushed their heads against the sash and insisted upon seeingthe world. Once in the garden, they throve mightily, and early in July, at a time when I had more flowers than I needed, the entire rowthreatened to bloom. After two weeks of coquettish showing of colourhere and there, up and down the line, they concluded that midsummer sundid not agree with any of the shades of pink, carmine, or crimson ofwhich their clothes were fashioned, and as for white, the memory ofrecent acres of field daisies made it too common, so they changed theirminds and proceeded to grow steadily for two months. When they werepinched in on top, they simply expanded sidewise; ordinary andinconspicuous staking failed to restrain them, and they even pulled awayat different angles from poles of silver birch with stout rope between, like a festive company of bacchantes eluding the embraces of the police. A heavy wind storm in late September snapped and twisted their hollowtrunks and branches. Were they discouraged? Not a particle; they simplyrested comfortably upon whatever they had chanced to fall and grew againfrom this new basis. Meanwhile the plants in front of them and on theopposite side of the way began to feel discouraged, and a fine lot ofasters, now within the shadow, were attacked by facial paralysis anddeveloped their blossoms only on one side. 

The middle of October, the week before the coming of Black Frost, thegarden executioner, the cosmos, now heavy with buds, settled down tobloom. Two large jars were filled with them, after much difficulty inthe gathering, and then the axe fell. Sometimes, of course, they behavequite differently, and those who can spare ground for a great hedgebacked by wall or fence and supported in front by pea brush deftlyinsinuated betwixt and between ground and plants, so that it restrains, but is at the same time invisible, may feast their eyes upon a spectacleof billows of white and pink that, at a little distance, are reminiscentof the orchards of May. 

But if you, Mary Penrose, are leaning toward cosmos and reading in theseed catalogue of their size and wonderful dawn-like tints, rememberthat the best of highly hybridized things revert unexpectedly to thecommonest type, and somewhere in this family of lofty Mexicans theremust have been a totally irresponsible wayside weed. Then turn backwardtoward the front of the catalogue, find the letter A, and buy, in placeof cosmos, aster seeds of every variety and colour that your pocket willallow. 

Of course the black golden-rod beetle may try to dwell among the asterflowers, and the aphis that are nursery maids to the ants infest theirroots; you must pick off the one and dig sulphur and unslaked limedeeply into the soil to discourage the other, but whatever labour youspend will not be lost. 

Other annuals there are, and their name is legion, that are prettyenough, perhaps, and well adapted to special purposes, like thedecorative and curious tassel flower, cockscombs, gourds, four o'clocks, etc. , and the great tribe of "everlastings" for those people, if suchthere be, who still prefer dried things for winter bouquets, when anivy-wreathed window filled with a succession of bulbs, ferns, or oxalisis so easily achieved! It is too harsh, perhaps, to call these minorannuals unworthy, but as they are unimportant and increase the labourrather than add to the pleasure, they are really unworthy of admissionto the woman's garden where there is only time and room for the bestresults. 

But here I am rambling at large instead of plainly answering yourquestion, "What annuals can we plant as late as this (May 25) while weare locating the rose bed?" You may plant any or all of them up to thefirst of June, the success of course depending upon a long autumn andlate frosts. No, not quite all; the tall-growing sweet peas should be inthe ground not later than May 1 in this south New England latitude, though in the northern states and Canada they are planted in June as amatter of course. Blanche Ferry, of the brilliant pink-and-whitecomplexion, however, will do very nicely in the light of a labour-savingafterthought, as, only reaching a foot and a half high, little, if any, brush is needed. 

[Illustration: ASTERS WELL MASSED. ]

We found your rose list replete with charming varieties, but most ofthem too delicate for positive success hereabouts. I'm sending youpresently the list for a fifty-dollar rose garden, which it seems ismuch in demand, so that I've adapted my own experience to the simpleplan that Evan drew to enlighten amateur rose lovers and turn them fromcoveting their wealthy neighbours' goods to spending their energy inproducing covetable roses of their own!

By the way, I send you my own particular list of Worthy Annuals to matchthe hardy plants and keep heights and colours easily before you untilyour own Garden Book is formulated and we can compare notes. (See page387. )

You forgot to tell me whether you have decided to keep hens or not! Iknow that the matter has been discussed every spring since you havelived at Woodridge. If you are planning a hennery, I shall not encouragethe rosary, for the days of a commuter's wife are not long enough forboth without encountering nervous prostration on the immediate premises. 

Some problems are ably solved by coöperation. As I am a devotee of theornamental and comfortable, Martha Saunders _née_ Corkle runs acoöperative hen-yard in our north pasture for the benefit of theCortrights and ourselves to our mutual joy!

VI

THEIR FORTUNATE ESCAPE

CONCERNING EVERGREENS AND HENS

(Mary Penrose to Barbara Campbell)

_June 5. _ I have not dipped pen in ink for an entire week, which hasbeen one of stirring events, for not only have we wholly emerged fromindoor life, but we have had a hair-breadth escape from something thatnot only threatened to mar the present summer, but to cast so heavy ashadow over the garden that no self-respecting flowers could flourisheven under the thought of it. You cannot possibly guess with what wewere threatened, but I am running ahead of myself. 

The day that we began _it_--the vacation--by stopping the clocks, weoverslept until nine o'clock. When we came downstairs, the house was ina condition of cheerful good order unknown to that hour of the day. 

There is such a temperamental difference in this mere setting things torights. It can be done so that every chair has a stiffly repellent look, and the conspicuous absence of dust makes one painfully conscious thatit has not always been thus, while the fingers inadvertently stray overone's attire, plucking a shred here and a thread there. Even flowers canbe arranged in a vase so as to look thoroughly and reproachfullyuncomfortable, and all the grace and meaning crushed out of them. ButMaria Maxwell has the touch gracious that makes even a plainly furnishedroom hold out detaining hands as you go through, and the flowers on thegreeting table in the hall (yes, Lavinia Cortright taught me that littlefancy of yours during her first visit), though much the same as I hadbeen gathering for a week past, wore an air of novelty!

For a moment we stood at the foot of the stairs looking about andgetting our bearings, as guests in an unfamiliar place rather thanhouseholders. It flitted through my body that I was hungry, and one ofthe "must be's" of the vacation country was that we were to forage forbreakfast. At the same time Bart sauntered unconsciously toward themail-box under the hat-rack and then, suddenly putting his hands behindhim, turned to me with a quizzical expression, saying: "Letters areforbidden, I know, but how about the paper? Even the 'Weekly Tribune'would be something; you know that sheet was devised for farmers!"

"If this vacation isn't to be a punishment, but a pleasure, I think wehad both better 'have what we want when we want it'!" I replied, for atthat moment I spied the Infant out on the porch, and to hug her ladyshipwas a swiftly accomplished desire. For some reason she seemed ratherastonished at this very usual performance, and putting her hands, boy-fashion, into the pockets of her checked overalls, surveyed herselfdeliberately, and then looking up at me rather reproachfully remarked, "Tousin Maria says that now you and father are tumpany!"

"And what is company?" I asked, rather anxious to know from what newpoint we were to be regarded. 

"Tumpany is people that comes to stay in the pink room wif trunks, andwe play wif them and make them do somfing to amuse 'em all the timehard, and give 'em nicer things than we have to eat, and father shavestoo much and tuts him and wears his little dinky coat to dinner. And byand by when they've gone away Ann-stasia says, 'Glory be!' and muvvergoes to sleep. But muvver, if you are the tumpany, you can't go to sleepwhen you've gone away, can you?"

A voice joined me in laughter, Maria Maxwell's, from inside the openwindow of the dining room. Looking toward the sound, I saw that, thoughthe dining table itself had been cleared, a side table drawn close tothe window was set with places for two, a posy of poets' narcissus andthe last lilies-of-the-valley between, while a folded napkin at oneplace rested on a newspaper!

"I thought we were to get our own breakfasts, " I said, in a tone of veryfeeble expostulation, which plainly told that, at that particularmoment, it was the last thing I wished to do. 

"You are, the very minute you feel like it, and not before! You must letyourselves down gradually, and not bolt out of the house as if you hadbeen evicted. If Bart went paperless and letterless this very firstmorning, until he has met something that interests him more, he wouldthink about the lack of the news and the mail all day until they becamemore than usually important!" So saying, Maria swept the stems andlitter of the flowers she had been arranging into her apron, andannexing the Infant to one capable finger, all the other nine beingoccupied, she went down the path toward the garden for fresh supplies, leaving Ann-stasia, as the Infant calls her, to serve the coffee, aprerogative of which she would not consent to be bereft, not even uponthe plea of lightening her labours!

"Isn't this perfect!" I exclaimed, looking toward a gap in the hillsthat was framed by the debatable knoll on one side and reached by ashort cut across the old orchard and abandoned meadows of the farmabove, the lack of cultivation resulting in a wealth of field flowers. 

"Entirely!" assented Bart, his spoon in the coffee cup stirringvigorously and his head enveloped in the newspaper. But what did thepoint of view matter: he was content and unhurried--what betterbeginning for a vacation? In fact in those two words lies the realvacation essence. 

Meanwhile, as I munched and sipped, with luxurious irresponsibility, Iwatched Maria moving to and fro between the shrubs that bounded the eastalley of the old garden. In her compressed city surroundings she hadalways seemed to me a very big sort of person, with an efficiency thatwas at times overpowering, whose brown eyes had a "charge bayonet" wayof fixing one, as if commanding the attention of her pupils by force ofeye had become a habit. But here, her most cherished belongings givenroom to breathe in the spare room that rambles across one end of thehouse, while her wardrobe has a chance to realize itself in the deepcloset, Maria in two short days had become another person. 

She does not seem large, but merely well built. The black gowns andstraight white collars that she always wore, as a sort of professionalgarb, have vanished before a shirtwaist with an openwork neck and halfsleeves, while the flesh exposed thereby is pink and wholesome. Hair notsecured for the wear and tear of the daily rounds of school, but allowedto air itself, requires only a few hair-pins, and, if it is naturallywavy, follows its own will with good effect. While as to her eyes, whatin them seemed piercing at short range melted to an engaging franknessin the soft light under the trees. In short, if she had been any otherthan Maria Maxwell, music teacher, Bart's staid cousin and the avowedfamily spinster, I should have thought of her as a fine-looking womanwho only needed a magic touch of some sort to become positivelyhandsome. Coffee and paper finished, I became aware that Bart was gazingat me. 

"Well, " I said, extending my hand, "what next?" I had speedily made upmy mind that Bart should take the initiative in our camping-outarrangement, and I therefore did not suggest that the first thing to bedone was to set our camp itself in order. 

"Come out, " he said, taking my hand in the same way that the Infant doeswhen she wishes to lead the way to the discovery of the fairyland thatlies beyond the meadows of the farm. So we sauntered out. Once underthe sun, the same delicious thought occurred to each that, certainprudences having been seen to, we were for the time withoutresponsibilities, and the fact made us laugh for the very freedom of itand pull one another hither and thither like a couple of children. 

Meanwhile the word _knoll_ had not been uttered, but our feet were atonce drawn in its direction by an irresistible force, and presently wefound ourselves standing at the lower end of the ridge and looking upthe slope!

"I wish we had a picture of it as it must have been before the land wascleared, --it would be a great help in replanting, " I said; "it needssomething dense and bold for a background to the rocks. "

"The skeleton of the old barn on the other side spoils it; it ought tocome down, " was Bart's rejoinder. "It seems as if everything we wish todo hinges on some other thing. "

This barn had been set back against the knoll so that from the house thehayloft window seemed like a part of a low shed. Certainly our forbearsknew the ways of the New England wind very thoroughly, judging by theway they huddled their houses and outbuildings in hollows or underhillsides to avoid its stress. And when they couldn't do that, theyturned sloping, humpbacked roofs toward the northeast to shed the snowand tempt the wind in its wild moods to play leapfrog and thus passover. 

Such a roof as this has the house at the next farm, and judging by thelocation of the old hay barn, and the lay of the road, it must have oncebelonged to this adjoining property rather than to ours. 

Slowly we circled the knoll, dropped into the hollow, and stood upon theuneven floor of wide chestnut planks that was to be our camp. Otherlodgers had this barn besides ourselves and, unlike ourselves, hereditary tenants. Swallows of steel-blue wings hung their nests in awhispering colony against the beams, a pair of gray squirrels archedtheir tails at us and chattering whisked up aloft, where they evidentlyhave a family in the dilapidated pigeon cote, while among somecornstalks and other litter in the low earth cellar beneath we couldhear the rustling doubtless born of the swift little feet of mice. (Yes, I know that it is a feminine quality lacking in me, but I have never yetbeen able to conjure up any species of fear in connection with theseplayful little rodents. )

The cots, table, chairs, and screens were as I had placed them severaldays ago; but it was not the interior that held us but the view lookingeastward across the sunlit meadows. In fact this side of the barn hadthe wide openings of an observatory. The gnarled apple trees of theorchard still bore pink-and-white wreaths on the shady side, and thepurling of bluebirds blended with the voice of the river that ranbetween the hills afar off--the same stream that further up country wasto be pent between walls and prisoned to make a reservoir. Sittingthere, we gazed upon the soft yet glowing beauty of it all, with never athought of pick and spade, grub axe or crowbar, to pry between the rocksof the knoll to find the depth or quality of its soil or test theplanting possibilities. 

"Let us go up to the woods and see Blake; he wrote me that he is to bethere to-day, and suggested we should both meet him and see thetreasure-trove to be found there before the spring blossoms are quiteshed, " said Bart, suddenly, fumbling among the letters in his pocket;"and by the way, he said he would come back with us. He evidentlyforgets that we are not 'at home' to company!"

"But _The Man from Everywhere_ is not company. He is simply a permanentinstitution and can go on dropping in as usual all summer if he likes. Ann-stasia adores him, for did he not bring her a beautiful sandalwoodrosary of carved beads from somewhere and a pair of real tortoise-shellcombs not two months ago? And of course Maria Maxwell will not object;why should she? he will come and go as usual, and she will hardly knowthat he is in the house. "

Barney harnessed the mild-faced horse of our neighbour's lending to thatmost comfortable of all vehicles, a buggy with an ample box behind and atop that can be dropped and made into a deep pocket to hold gleanings, or raised as a shield from sun and rain. Ah! dear Mrs. Evan, is thereanything that turns a sober, settled married couple backward to theenchanted "engaged" region like driving away through the spring lanes ina buggy pulled by a horse who has had nature-loving owners, so that heseems to know by intuition when to pause and when it would be mostacceptable to his passengers to have him wander from the beaten trackand browse among the tender wayside grasses that always seem so muchmore tempting than any pasture grazing?

As you will infer from this, Romeo is not only of a gentle, meditativedisposition, but his harness is destitute of a check rein, overdraw, orotherwise. 

"Have you put in the trowels?" I asked, as we drove out the gate, thereins hanging so loosely from between Bart's knees, as he lit his pipe, that it was by mere chance that Romeo took the right turn. 

"No, I never thought of them; this is merely a prospecting trip. Did youput in the lunch?"

I was obliged to confess that I had not, but later on a box ofsandwiches was found under the seat in company with Romeo's nose-bag ofoats, this indication being that, as Barney alone knew directly of ourdestination, he must have informed Anastasia, who took pity, regardingus, as she does, as a cross between lunatics and the babes in the woods. 

We chose byways, and only crossed the macadamized highroad, that hauntof automobiles, once, and after an hour's sauntering crossed the riverand drove into the woodlots to the north of it, now the property of thewater company, who have already posted warning to trespassers. Westraightway began to trespass, seeing _The Man from Everywhere_ onhorseback coming down to meet us. 

Without an apparent change of soil or altitude, the scenery at once grewmore bold and dramatic. 

"What is it?" I said. "We have been driving through lanes lined bydogwood and yet that little tree below and the scrubby bit of hillsidemake a more perfect picture than any we have seen!"

[Illustration: THE PICTORIAL VALUE OF EVERGREENS. ]

Bart, who had left the buggy and was walking beside it with _The Man_, who had dismounted and led his nag, turned and looked backward, but didnot answer. 

"It is the evergreens that give it the quality, " said _The Man_, "eventhough they are only those stiff little Noah's-ark cedars. I notice itfar and wide, wherever I go; a landscape is never monotonous so long asthere is a pine, spruce, hemlock, or bit of a cedar to bind it together. I believe that is why I am never content for long in the land of palms!"

"I love evergreens in winter, but I've never thought much about them inthe growing leafy season; they seem unimportant then, " I said. 

"Unimportant or not, they are still there. Look at that wall of treesrising across the river! Every conceivable tint of green is there, besides shades of pink and lavender in leaf case and catkin, but whatdominates and translates the whole? The great hemlocks on the crest andthe dark pointed cedars off on the horizon where the woodland thinstoward the pastures. Whether you separate them or not, they are there. People are only just beginning to understand the value of evergreens intheir home gardens, both as windbreaks and backgrounds. No, I don't meanstark, isolated specimens, stiff as Christmas trees. You have amagnificent chance to use them on that knoll of yours that you are goingto restore!"

As he was speaking I thought Bart paid very scant attention, butfollowing his pointing finger I at once saw what had absorbed him. Onthe opposite side of the river, extending into the brush lots, was aknoll the size and counterpart of ours, even in the way that it lay bythe compass, only this was untouched, as nature planned it, and themodel for our restoration. 

"Do you clear the land as far back as this?" Bart asked of _The Man_, eagerly. 

"Yes, not for the sake of the land, but for the boulders and loose rockon those ledges; all the rock hereabout will be little enough for ourmasonry!"

"Then, " said Bart, "I'm going to transplant the growth on this knoll, root and branch, herb and shrub, moss and fern, to our own, if it takesme until Christmas! It isn't often that a man finds an illustrated planwith all the materials for carrying it out under his hand for merely thetaking. There are enough young hemlocks up there to windbreak our wholegarden. The thing I'm not sure about is just when it will do to beginthe transplanting. Meanwhile I'll make a list of the plants we know thatwe can add to as others develop and blossom. "

So he set to work on his list then and there, _The Man from Everywhere_helping, because he can name a plant from its leaves or even the twigs. 

I said that I would write to you _at once_ and ask you or Evan to tellus about the best way to transplant all the wild things, except woodyshrubs and trees, because we know it's best to wait for those until leaffall. But as it turns out, I've waited six days--oh! such aggravatingdays when there is so much to decide and do!

That afternoon _The Man_ rode home with us, as a matter of course, wequite forgetting that instead of late dinner, as usual, the meal wouldbe tea, as the Infant and Maria Maxwell are to dine now at one! As ashower threatened, it seemed much more natural for us to turn into thehouse than the camp, and before I knew how it happened I was sitting atthe head of my own table serving soup instead of tea! I dared not lookat Maria, but as the meal was nearly ended she remarked demurely, looking out of the west window to where the shower was passing offslantwise, leaving a glorious sunset trail in its wake, "Wouldn't youlike to have your coffee in camp, as the rain forced you to take dinnerindoors?" by which I knew that Maria would not allow us to lose sight ofour outdoor intentions. 

Bart laughed, and _The Man_, gazing around the table innocently said, "Oh, has _it_ begun, and am I intruding and breaking up plans? Whydidn't you tell me?"

So we went out through the sweet-smelling twilight, or rather the glowthat comes before it, and as we idly sipped the coffee, lo and behold, the old farm lay before us--a dream picture painted by the twilight! Thelittle window-panes, iridescent with age and bulged into odd shapes byyielding sashes, caught the sunset hues and turned to fire opals; thelight mist rising over the green meadows where the flowers now sleptwith heads bent and eyes closed lent the green and pearl tints of thosemysterious gems to which drops of rain or dew strung everywhere madediamond settings. 

"By Jove!" exclaimed Bart, "how beautiful the Opie farm looks to-night!If a real-estate agent could only get a photograph of what we see, weshould soon have a neighbour to rescue the place!"

"You mustn't call it the Opie farm any more; it is Opal Farm fromto-night!" I cried, "and no one shall buy it unless they promise toleave in the old windows and let the meadow and crab orchard stay asthey are, besides giving me right of way through it quite down to theriver woods!"

But to get back by this circuitous route to the threatened danger withwhich I opened this letter--

The postman whistled, as he has an alluring way of doing when he bringsthe evening mail, always hoping that some one will come out for a bit ofevening gossip, in which he is rarely disappointed. 

We all started to our feet, but Maria, whose special duty it had becometo look over the mail, distanced us all by taking a short cut, regardless of wet grass. 

Talk branched into divers pleasant ways, and we had almost forgotten hererrand when she returned and, breaking abruptly into the conversation, said to Bart, "Sorry to interrupt, but the postman reports that thereare three large crates of live stock down at the station, and the agentsays will you please send for them to-night, as he doesn't dare leavethem out, there are so many strangers about, and they will surely stifleif he crowds them into the office!"

"Live stock!" exclaimed Bart, "I'm sure I've bought nothing!" Then, aslight broke in his brain, --"Maybe it's that setter pup that Truesdalepromised me as soon as it was weaned, which would be about now!"

"Would a setter pup come in three crates?" inquired _The Man_, solemnly. 

"It must be live plants and not live stock!" I said, coming to Bart'srescue, "for Aunt Lavinia Cortright wrote me last week that she wassending me some of her prize pink Dahlias, and some gladioli bulbs!"

"Possibly these might fill three large cases!" laughed Bart, in histurn. 

"Why not see if any of those letters throw light upon the mystery, andthen I'll help 'hook up, ' as I suppose Barney has gone home, and we willbring up the crates even if they contain crocodiles!" said _The Man_, cheerfully. Complications always have an especially cheering effect uponhim, I've often noticed. 

The beams of a quarter moon were picturesque, but not a satisfactorylight by which to read letters, especially when under excitement, soBart brought out a carriage lantern with which we had equipped our camp, and proceeded to sort the mail, tossing the rejected letters into mylap. 

Suddenly he paused at one, extra bulky and bearing the handwriting ofhis mother, weighed it on the palm of his hand, and opened it slowly. From it fell three of the yellow-brown papers upon which receipts forexpressage are commonly written; I picked them up while Bart readslowly--

"MY DEAR SON, "We were most glad to hear through daughter Mary of your eminentlysensible and frugal plan for passing your summer vacation in theimprovement of your land without the expense of travel. 

"Wishing to give you some solid mark of our approval, as well as tocontribute what must be a material aid to your income, father and I sendyou to-day, by express, three crates of Hens--one of White Leghorns, oneof Plymouth Rocks, and one of Brown Dorkings, a male companionaccompanying each crate, as I am told is usual. We did not select anincubator, thinking you might have some preference in the matter, but itwill be forthcoming when your decision is made. 

"Of course I know that you cannot usually spare the time for the care ofthese fowls, but it will be a good outdoor vocation for Mary, amusingand lucrative, besides being thoroughly feminine, for such poultryraising was considered even in my younger days. 

"A book, _The Complete Guide to Poultry Farming_, which I sent Mary ayear ago on her birthday, as a mere suggestion, will tell her all sheneed know in the beginning, and the responsibility and occupation itselfwill be a good corrective for giving too much time to the beauties ofthe flower garden, which are merely pleasurable. 

"I need not remind you that the different breeds should be housedseparately, but you who always had a gift for carpentry can easilyarrange this. Indeed it was only yesterday that in opening a chest ofdrawers I came across a small lead saw bought for sixpence, with whichyou succeeded in quite cutting through the large Wisteria vine onGrandma Bartram's porch! I wished to punish you, but she said--'No, Susanna, rather preserve the tool as a memento of his industry andpatience. '

"I wish that I could be near to witness your natural surprise onreceiving this token of our approval, but I must trust Mary to write usof it. 

 "Your mother, "SUSAN BARTRAM PENROSE. "

With something between a groan and a laugh Bart dropped this letter intomy lap, with the others. 

"So, after a successful struggle all these five years of our countrylife against the fatal magnetism of _Hens_ that has run epidemic up anddown the population of commuting householders, bringing financialprostration to some and the purely nervous article to others; afteravoiding 'The Wars of the Chickens, or Who scratched up those EarlyPeas, '--events as celebrated in local history as the Revolution or Warof the Rebellion, --we are to be forced into the chicken business for thegood of Bart's health and pocket, and my mental discipline, and alsothat a thrifty Pennsylvania air may be thrown about our altogether toodelightful and altruistic summer arrangements! It's t-o-o bad!" Iwailed. 

Of course I know, Mrs. Evan, that I was in a temper, and that my"in-laws" mean well, but since comfortable setting hens have gone out offashion, and incubators and brooders taken their place, there is no morepleasure or sentiment about raising poultry than in manufacturing anyother article by rule. It's a business, and a very pernickety one toboot, and it's to keep Bart away from business that we are striving. Besides, that chicken book tells how many square feet per hen must beallowed for the exercising yards, and how the pens for the little chicksmust be built on wheels and moved daily to fresh pasture. All thevegetable garden and flower beds and the bit of side lawn which I wantfor mother's rose garden would not be too much! But I seem to be leavingthe track again. 

Bart didn't say a word, except that "At any rate we must bring the fowlsup from the station, " and as the stable door was locked and the key inBarney's pocket, Bart and _The Man_ started to walk down to the villageto look him up in some of his haunts, or failing in this to get theexpress wagon from the stable. 

Maria and I sat and talked for some time about _The_ _Man fromEverywhere_, the chickens, and the location of the rose beds. She issurprisingly keen about flowers, considering that it is quite ten yearssince her own home in the country was broken up, but then I think thisis the sort of knowledge that stays by one the longest of all. I hopethat I have succeeded in convincing her that _The Man_ is not company tobe bothered about, but a comfortable family institution to come and goas he likes, to be taken easily and not too seriously. 

When the moon disappeared beyond the river woods, we went to thesouthwest porch, and there decided that the piece of lawn where we hadsome uninteresting foliage beds one summer was the best place for theroses and we might possibly have a trellis across the north wall forclimbers. Would you plant roses in rows or small separate beds? And howabout the soil? But perhaps the plan you are sending me will explain allthis. 

It was more than an hour before the men returned, and, not having foundBarney, Bart had signed for the poultry in order to leave the expressagent free to go home, and had left word at the stable for them to sendthe crates up as soon as the long wagon returned from Leighton, whitherit had gone with trunks. 

After much discussion we decided that the fowls should be housed forthe night in the small yard back of the stable, where the Infant's cow(a present from _my_ mother) spends her nights under the shed. 

"Did you find any signs of a chicken house on the place when you firstcame?" asked Maria, in a matter-of-fact tone, as if its location was theonly thing now to be considered. 

"Yes, there was one directly in the fence line at the eastern gap wherewe see the Three Brothers Hills, " said Bart, "and I've always intendedto plant a flower bed of some sort there both to hide the gap in thewall and that something may be benefited by the hen manure of decadesthat must have accumulated there!"

"How would the place do for the new hen-house?" pursued Maria, relentlessly. 

"Not at all!" I snapped very decidedly: "it is directly in the path thecool summer winds take on their way to the dining room, and you know atbest fowl houses are not bushes of lemon balm!"

"Then why not locate your bed of good-smelling things in the gap, andsup on nectar and distilled perfume, " said _The Man from Everywhere_, soothingly. 

"The very thing! and I will write Mrs. Evan at once for a list of theplants in her 'bed of sweet odours, ' as she calls it. " Then presently, as the men sat talking, Maria having gone into the house, our summerwork seemed to lie accomplished and complete before me, even as you oncesaw your garden of dreams before its making, --the knoll restored to itswildness, ending not too abruptly at the garden in some loose rock; thebed of sweet odours filling the gap between it and the gate of thelittle pasture in the rear; straight beds of hardy plants bordering thevegetable squares; the two seed beds topping the furthest bit, then aspace of lawn with the straight walk of the old garden running through, to the sundial amid some beds of summer flowers at the orchard end, while the open lawn below the side porch is given up to roses!

I even crossed the fence in imagination, and took in the possibilitiesof Opal Farm. If only I could have some one there to talk flowers andother perplexities to, as you have Lavinia Cortright, without goingthrough the front gate!

Two hours must have passed in pleasant chat, for the hall clock, theonly one in the front part of the house we had not stopped, was chimingeleven when wheels paused before the house and the latch of the gatethat swung both ways gave its double click!

"The hens have come!" I cried in dismay, the dream garden vanishingbefore an equally imaginary chorus of clucks and crows. 

Mr. Hale himself, the stable keeper, appeared at the house corner at thesame moment that Bart and _The Man_ reached it. Consternation sat uponhis features, and his voice was fairly husky as he jerked out, --"They'vegone, --clean gone, --Mr. Penrose, all three crates! and the dust is sokicked up about that depot that you can't read out no tracks. Someloafers must hev seen them come and laid to get in ahead o' you, ashevin' signed the company ain't liable! What! don't you want to drivedown to the sheriff's?" and Mr. Hale's lips hung loose with dismay atBart's apparent apathy. 

"Mr. Hale, " said Bart, in mock heroic tones, "I thank you for yoursympathy, but because some troubles fall upon us unawares, it does notfollow that we should set bait for others!"

Whereupon Mr. Hale the next day remarked that he didn't know whether ornot Penrose was taking action in the matter, because you could neverjudge a good lawyer's meanings by his speech. 

However, if the hens escaped, so did we, and the next morning Bartforgot his paper until afternoon, so eager was he to test the depth ofsoil in the knoll. 

I'm sending you a list of the wild things at hand. Will you tell me indue course which of the ferns are best for our purpose? I've noticedsome of the larger ones turn quite shabby early in August. 

VII

A SIMPLE ROSE GARDEN

(Barbara Campbell to Mary Penrose)

_Oaklands, June 5. _ Yesterday my roses began to bloom. The very old bushof thorny, half-double brier roses with petals of soft yellow crêpe, inwhich the sunbeams caught and glinted, took the lead as usual. Beforenight enough Jacqueminot buds showed rich colour to justify my fillingthe bowl on the greeting table, fringing it with sprays of the yellowbrier buds and wands of copper beech now in its velvety perfection ofyouth. This morning, the moment that I crossed my bedroom threshold, theJacqueminot odour wafted up. Is there anything more like the incense ofpraise to the flower lover? Not less individual than the voice offriends, or the song of familiar birds, is the perfume of flowers tothose who live with them, and among roses none impress thischaracteristic more poignantly than the crimson Jacqueminot and thesilver-pink La France, equally delicious and absolutely different. 

As one who has learned by long and sometimes disastrous experience, toone who is now really plunging headlong into the sea of gardenmysteries and undercurrents for the first time, I give you warning! ifyou have a real rose garden, or, merely what Lavinia Cortright callshers, a rosary of assorted beads, try as far as possible to have allyour seed sowing and transplanting done before the June rose seasonbegins, that you may give yourself up to this one flower, heart, soul, yes, and body also! It was no haphazard symbolist that, in troubadourdays, gave Love the rose for his own flower, for to be its real self therose demands all and must be all in all to its possessor. 

As for you, Mary Penrose, who eschewed hen-keeping as a deceitfulmasquerade of labour, under the name of rural employment, ponder deeplybefore you have spade put to turf in your south lawn, and invest yourbirthday dollars in the list of roses that at this very moment I ampreparing to send you, with all possible allurement of description toegg you on. For unless you have very poor luck, which the slope of yourland, depth of soil, and your own pertinacity and staying qualitiesdiscount, many more dollars in quarters, halves, or entire will followthe first large outlay, and I may even hear of your substituting theperpetual breakfast prune of boarding-houses for your grapefruit inwinter, or being overcome in summer by the prevailing health-foodepidemic, in order that you may plunder the housekeeping pursesuccessfully. 

[Illustration: MY ROSES ARE SCATTERED HERE, THERE, ANDEVERYWHERE. ]

But this is the time and hour that one gardener, on a very modest scale, may be excused if she overrates the charms of rose possessing, for it isa June morning, both bright and overcast by turns. A wood thrush ispractising his arpegios in the little cedar copse on one side, and acatbird is hurling every sort of vocal challenge and bedevilment fromhis ancestral syringa bush on the other, and all between is a gap filledwith a vista of rose-bushes--not marshalled in a garden together, butscattered here, there, and everywhere that a good exposure and deepfoothold could be found. 

As far as the arrangement of my roses is concerned, "do as I say, not asI do" is a most convenient motto. I have tried to formalize my rosesthese ten years past, but how can I, for my yellow brier (Harrison's)has followed its own sweet will so long that it makes almost a hedge. The Madame Plantiers of mother's garden are stalwart shrubs, like manyother nameless bushes collected from old gardens hereabout, onedeclining so persistently to be uprooted from a particularly cheerfulcorner that it finds itself in the modern company of Japanese iris, andinadvertently sheds its petals to make rose-water of the birds' bath. 

An English sweetbrier of delicious leafage hobnobs with honeysuckle andclematis on one of the wren arbours, while a great nameless bush ofexquisite blush buds, quite destitute of thorns (one of the manycuttings sent "the Doctor's wife" in the long ago), stands anunconscious chaperone between Marshall P. Wilder and Mrs. John Lang. 

I must at once confess that it is much better to keep the roses apart inlong borders of a kind than to scatter them at random. By so doing theplants can be easily reached from either side, more care being taken notto overshadow the dwarf varieties by the more vigorous. 

Lavinia Cortright has left the old-fashioned June roses that belonged toher garden where they were, but is now gathering the new hybrids afterthe manner of Evan's little plan. In this way, without venturing intoroses from a collector's standpoint, she can have representatives of thebest groups and a continuous supply of buds of some sort both outdoorsand for the house from the first week in June until winter. 

To begin with, roses need plenty of air. This does not mean that theyflourish in a draught made by the rushing of north or east wind betweenbuildings or down a cut or roadway. If roses are set in a mixed border, the tendency is inevitably to crowd or flank them by some succulentannual that overgrows the limit we mentally set for it, thereby stoppingthe circulation of air about the rose roots, and lo! the harm is done!

If you want good roses, you must be content to see a little bare, brownearth between the bushes, only allowing a narrow outside border ofpansies, the horned bedding violets (_cornuta_), or some equally compactand clean-growing flower. To plant anything thickly between the rosesthemselves prevents stirring the soil and the necessary seasonalmulchings, for if the ground-covering plants flourish you will disliketo disturb them. 

The first thing to secure for your rosary is sun--sun for all themorning. If the shadow of house, barn, or of distant trees breaks thedirect afternoon rays in July and August, so much the better, but nooverhead shade at any time or season. This does not prevent yourprotecting a particularly fine quantity of buds, needed for some specialoccasion, with a tentlike umbrella, such as one sees fastened to theseat in pedlers' wagons. A pair of these same umbrellas are almost ahorticultural necessity for the gardener's comfort as well, when shesits on her rubber mat to transplant and weed. 

Given your location, consideration of soil comes next, for this can becontrolled in a way in which the sun may not be, though if the groundchosen is in the bottom of a hollow or in a place where surface water islikely to settle in winter, you had better shift the location withoutmore ado. It was a remark pertinent to all such places that Dean Holemade to the titled lady who showed him an elaborately planned rosegarden, in a hollow, and waited for his praise. She heard only theremark that it was an admirable spot for _ferns_!

If your soil is clayey, and holds water for this reason, it can bedrained by porous tiles, sunk at intervals in the same way as meadow orhay land would be drained, that is if the size of your garden and thelay of the land warrants it. If, however, the roses are to be inseparate beds or long borders, the earth can be dug out to the depth oftwo and a half or three feet, the good fertile portion being put on oneside and the clay or yellow loam, if any there be, removed. Then fillthe hole with cobblestones, rubbish of old plaster, etc. , for a foot indepth (never tin cans); mix the good earth thoroughly with one-third itsbulk of well-rotted cow dung, a generous sprinkling of unslaked lime andsulphur, and replace, leaving it to settle for a few days and wateringit thoroughly, if it does not rain, before planting. 

One of the advantages of planting roses by themselves is that thestirring of the soil and giving of special fertilizers when needful maybe unhampered. 

In the ordinary planting of roses by the novice, the most necessaryrules are usually the first violated. The roses are generally purchasedin pots, with a certain amount of foliage and a few buds produced byforcing. A hole is excavated, we will suppose, in a hardened border ofhardy plants that, owing to the tangle of roots, can be at best butsuperficially dug and must rely upon top dressing for its nutriment. Owing to the difficulty of digging the hole, it is likely to be a tightfit for the pot-bound ball of calloused roots that is to fill it. Hence, instead of the woody roots and delicate fibres being carefully spreadout and covered, so that each one is surrounded by fresh earth, they arejammed just as they are (or often with an additional squeeze) into arigid socket, and small wonder if the conjunction of the two results inblighting and a lingering death rather than the renewal of vitality andincrease. 

Evan, who has had a wide experience in watching the development of hisplans, both by professional gardeners and amateurs, says that he isconvinced more and more each day that, where transplanting of any sortfails, it is due to carelessness in the securing of the root anchors, rather than any fault of the dealer who supplies the plants, this ofcourse applying particularly to all growths having woody roots, wherebreakage and wastage cannot be rapidly restored. When a rose is onceestablished, its persistent roots may find means of boring through soilthat in its first nonresistant state is impossible. While stiff, impervious clay is undesirable, a soil too loose with sand, that allowsthe bush to shift with the wind, instead of holding it firmly, is quiteas undesirable. 

In planting all hardy or half-hardy roses, --whether they are of the typethat flower once in early summer, the hybrid perpetuals that bloomfreely in June and again at intervals during late summer and autumn, orthe hybrid teas that, if wisely selected and protected, combine thewintering ability of their hardy parents with the monthly blooming crossof the teas, --it is best to plant dormant field-grown plants in October, or else as early in April as the ground is sufficiently dry and frostfree. 

These field-grown roses have better roots, and though, when planted inthe spring, for the first few months the growth is apparently slowerthan that of the pot-grown bushes, it is much more normal andsatisfactory, at least in the Middle and New England states of which Ihave knowledge. 

All roses, even the sturdy, old-fashioned damasks, Madame Plantier, andthe like, should have some covering in winter, such as stable litter ofcoarse manure with the straw left in. Hybrid perpetuals I hill up wellwith earth after the manner of celery banked for bleaching, the trenchesbetween making good water courses for snow water, while in spring cowmanure and nitrate of soda is scattered in these ruts before the soil isrestored to its level by forking. 

The hybrid teas, of which La France is the best exponent, should behilled up and then filled in between with evergreen branches, uplandsedge grass, straw or corn stalks, and if you have the wherewithal, theymay be capped with straw. 

I do not care for leaves as a covering, unless something coarseunderlies them, for in wet seasons they form a cold and discouragingpoultice to everything but the bob-tailed meadow mice, who love to bedand burrow under them. Such tea roses as it is possible to winter in thenorth should be treated in the same way, but there is something else tobe suggested about their culture in another place. 

The climbing roses of arbours, if in very exposed situations, inaddition to the mulch of straw and manure, may have corn stalks stackedagainst the slats, which makes a windbreak well worth the trouble. Butthe more tender species of climbing roses should be grown upon pillars, English fashion. These can be snugly strawed up after the fashion ofwine bottles, and then a conical cap of the waterproof tar paper used bybuilders drawn over the whole, the manure being banked up to hold thebase firmly in place. With this device it is possible to grow the lovelyGloire de Dijon, in the open, that festoons the eaves of Englishcottages, but is our despair. 

[Illustration: PILLAR FOR CORNERS OF ROSE BED. ]

Not long ago we invented an inexpensive "pillar" trellis for roses andvines which, standing seven feet high and built about a cedarclothes-pole, the end well coated with tar before setting, is bothsymmetrical and durable, not burning tender shoots, as do the metalaffairs, and costing, if the material is bought and a carpenter hired bythe day, the moderate price of two dollars and a half each, includingpaint, which should be dark green. 

[Illustration: ROSE GARDEN WITH OUTSIDE BORDER OF GRAVEL ANDGRASS. ]

Evan has made a sketch of it for you. He finds it useful in many ways, and in laying out a new garden these pillars, set at corners or atintervals along the walks, serve to break the hot look of a wide expanseand give a certain formality that draws together without being too stiffand artificial. 

For little gardens, like yours and mine, I think deep-green paint thebest colour for pergola, pillars, seats, plant tubs, and the like. Whitepaint is clean and cheerful, but stains easily. If one has thesurroundings and money for marble columns and garden furniture, it mustform part of a well-planned whole and not be pitched in at random, butthe imitation article, compounded of cement or whitewashed wood, belongsin the region of stage properties or beer gardens!

The little plan I'm sending you needs a bit of ground not less thanfifty feet by seventy-five for its development, and that, I think, iswell within the limits of your southwest lawn. The pergola can be madeof rough cedar posts with the bark left on. Evan says that there are anyquantity of cedar trees in your river woods that are to be cleared forthe reservoir, and you can probably get them for a song. 

The border enclosing the grass plots is four feet in width, which allowsyou to reach into the centre from either side. Two rows of hybridperpetuals or three of hybrid tea or summer roses can be planted inthese beds, according to their size, thus allowing, at the minimum, forone hundred hybrid perpetuals, fifty hybrid teas, fifty summer roses, and eighteen climbers, nine on either side of the pergola, with fouradditional for the corner pillars. 

The irregular beds in the small lawns should not be planted in set rows, but after the manner of shrubberies. Rugosa roses, if their colours bewell chosen, are best for the centre of these beds. They are strikingwhen in flower and decorative in fruit, while the handsome leaves, thatare very free from insects, I find most useful as green in arrangingother roses the foliage of which is scanty. The pink-and-white damaskroses belong here, and the dear, profuse, and graceful MadamePlantier, --a dozen bushes of this hybrid China rose of seven leafletsare not too many. For seventy years it has held undisputed sway amonghardy white roses and has become so much a part of old gardens that weare inclined to place its origin too far back in the past amonghistoric roses, because we cannot imagine a time when it was not. Thisis a rose to pick by the armful, and grown in masses it lends an air ofluxury to the simplest garden. 

[Illustration: MADAME PLANTIER AT VAN CORTLAND MANOR. ]

Personally, I object to the rambler tribe of roses for any but largegardens, where in a certain sense the personality of flowers mustsometimes be lost in decorative effect. A scentless rose has no right tointrude on the tender intimacies of the woman's garden, but pruned backto a tall standard it may be cautiously mingled with Madame Plantierwith good effect, lending the pale lady the reflected touch of thecolour that gives life. 

For the pergola a few ramblers may be used for rapid effect, while theslower growing varieties are making wood, but sooner or later I'm surethat they will disappear before more friendly roses, and even to-day theold-fashioned Gem of the Prairies, Felicité Perpetual, and BaltimoreBelle seem to me worthier. Colour and profusion the rambler has, butequally so has the torrent of coloured paper flowers that pours out ofthe juggler's hat, and they are much bigger. 

No, I'm apt to be emphatic (Evan calls it pertinacious), but I'm surethe time will come when at least the crimson rambler, trained over agas-pipe arch, except for purely decorative purposes, will be as muchdisliked by the real rose lover as the tripod with the iron pot paintedred and filled with red geraniums!

The English sweetbrier is a climbing or pillar rose, capable of beingpruned into a bush or hedge that not only gives fragrance in June butevery time the rain falls or dew condenses upon its magic leaves. This you must have as well as some of its kin, the Penzancehybrid-sweetbriers, either against the pergola or trained to the cornerpillars, where you will become more intimate with them. 

You may be fairly sure of success in wintering well-chosen hybridperpetual roses and the hybrid teas. If, for any reason, certainvarieties that succeed in Lavinia Cortright's garden and ours do notthrive with you, they must be replaced by a gradual process ofelimination. You alone may judge of this. I'm simply giving you a listof varieties that have thriven in my garden; others may not find themthe best. Only let me advise you to begin with roses that have stood atest of not less than half a dozen years, for it really takes that longto know the influence of heredity in this highly specialized race. Afterthe rose garden has shown you all its colours, it is easy to supplementa needed tint here or a proven newcomer there without speculating, asit were, in garden stock in a bull market. Too much of spending moneyfor something that two years hence will be known no more is a financialside of the _Garden-Goozle_ question that saddens the commuter, as wellas his wife. It is a continual proof of man's, and particularly woman's, innocency that such pictures as horticultural pedlers show whenextolling their wares do not deter instead of encouraging purchasers. Ifthe fruits and flowers were believable, as depicted, still they shouldbe unattractive to eye and palate. 

The hybrid perpetuals give their great yield in June, followed by a moreor less scattering autumn blooming. It is foolish to expect a rosespecialized and proven by the tests climatic and otherwise of Holland, England, or France, and pronounced a perpetual bloomer, to live up toits reputation in this country of sudden extremes: unveiled summer heat, that forces the bud open before it has developed quality, causingcertain shades of pink and crimson to fade and flatten before the floweris really fit for gathering. Americans in general must be content withthe half loaf, as far as garden roses are concerned, for in the coolerparts of the country, where the development of the flower is slower andmore satisfactory, the winter lends added dangers. 

Good roses--not, however, the perfect flowers of the connoisseur oreven of the cottage exhibitions of England--may be had from early Juneuntil the first week of July, but the hybrid tea roses that brave thelatter part of that month and August are but short lived, even whengathered in the bud. Those known as summer bedders of the Bourbon class, chiefly scentless, of which Appoline is a well-known example, are simplybits of decorative colour without the endearing attributes of roses, andgarden colour may be obtained with far less labour. 

In July and August you may safely let your eyes wander from the rosaryto the beds of summer annuals, the gladioli, Japan lilies, and Dahlias, and depend for fragrance on your bed of sweet odours. But as the nightsbegin to lengthen, at the end of August, you may prepare for a tea-rosefestival, if you have a little forethought and a very little money. 

You have, I think, a florist in your neighbourhood who raises roses forthe market. This is my method, practised for many years with comfortingsuccess. Instead of buying pot-grown tea roses in April or May, that, unless a good price (from twenty-five cents up) is paid for them, willbe so small that they can only be called bushes at the season's end, Igo to our florist and buy fifty of the bushes that he has forced duringthe winter and being considered spent are cast out about June first, inorder to fill in the new stock. 

All such roses are not discarded each season, but the process is carriedon in alternate benches and years, so that there are always some to beobtained. These plants, big, tired-looking, and weak in the branches, Ibuy for the nominal sum of ten dollars per hundred, five dollars' worthfilling a long border when set out in alternating rows. On taking thesehome, I thin out the woodiest shoots, or those that interfere, and plantdeep in the border, into which nitrate of soda has been dug in theproportion of about two ounces to a plant. 

After spreading out the roots as carefully as possible, I plant firmlyand water thoroughly, but do not as yet prune off the long branches. Inten days, having given meanwhile two waterings of liquid manure, I prunethe bushes back sharply. By this time they will have probably droppedthe greater part of their leaves, and having had a short but sufficientnap, are ready to grow, which they proceed to do freely. I do notencourage bloom in July, but as soon as we have dew-heavy August nightsit begins and goes on, increasing in quality until hard frost. Many ofthese bushes have wintered comfortably and on being pruned to withinthree inches of the ground have lasted many years. 

As to the varieties so treated, that is a secondary consideration, forunder these circumstances you must take what the florist has to offer, which will of course be those most suitable to the winter market. I haveused Perle des Jardins, Catherine Mermet, Bride and Bridesmaid, Safrano, Souvenir d'un Ami, and Bon Silene (the rose for button-hole buds) withequal success, though a very intelligent grower affirms that both Brideand Bridesmaid are unsatisfactory as outdoor roses. 

I do not say that the individual flowers from these bushes bear relationto the perfect specimens of greenhouse growth in anything but fragrance, but in this way I have roses all the autumn, "by the fistful, " asTimothy Saunders's Scotch appreciation of values puts it, though hisspouse, Martha Corkle, whose home memories are usually expanded by theperspective of time and absence, in this case speaks truly when she sayson receiving a handful, "Yes, Mrs. Evan, they're nice and sweetish and Ithank you kindly, but, ma'am, they couldn't stand in it with those thatgrows as free as corn poppies round the four-shillin'-a-week cottagesout Gloucester way, and _no_ disrespec' intended. "

The working season of the rose garden begins the first of April withthe cutting out of dead wood and the shortening and shaping of lastyear's growth. With hardy roses the flowers come from fresh twigs on oldgrowth. I never prune in the autumn, because winter always kills a bitof the top and cutting opens the tubular stem to the weather and inducesdecay. Pruning is a science in itself, to be learned by experience. Thisis the formula that I once wrote on a slate and kept in my attic deskwith my first _Boke of the Garden_. 

_April 1. _ Uncover bushes, prune, and have the winter mulch thoroughlydug in. Place stakes in the centre of bushes that you know fromexperience will need them. Re-tie climbers that have broken away fromsupports, but not too tightly; let some sprays swing and arch in theirown way. 

_May. _ As soon as the foliage begins to appear, spray with whale-oilsoap lotion mixed hot and let cool: strength--a bit the size of a walnutto a gallon of water. Do this every two weeks until the rosebuds showdecided colour, then stop. This is to keep the rose Aphis at bay, thelittle soft green fly that is as succulent as the sap upon which itfeeds. 

If the spring is damp and mildew appears, dust with sulphur flower in asmall bellows. 

_June. _ The Rose Hopper or Thrip, an active little pale yellow, transparent-winged insect that clings to the under side of the leaf, will now come if the weather is dry; dislodged easily by shaking, itimmediately returns. _Remedy_, spraying leaves from underneath withwater and applying powdered helebore with a bellows. 

If _Black Spot_, a rather recent nuisance, appears on the leaves, spraywith Bordeaux Mixture, bought of a horticultural dealer, directionsaccompanying. 

Meanwhile the leaf worm is sure to put in appearance. This is alsotransparent and either brownish green, or yellow, seemingly according tothe leaves upon which it feeds. _Remedy_, if they won't yield tohelebore (and they seldom do unless very sickly), brush them off into acup. An old shaving brush is good for this purpose, as it is close setbut too soft to scrape the leaf. 

_June 15. _ When the roses are in bloom, stop all insecticides. There issuch a thing as the cure being worse than the disease, and a rose gardenredolent of whale-oil soap and phosphates and encrusted with heleboreand Bordeaux Mixture has a painful suggestion of a horticulturalhospital. 

Now is the time for the Rose Chafer, a dull brownish beetle about halfan inch long, who times his coming up out of the ground to feast uponthe most fragrant and luscious roses. These hunt in couples and arewholly obnoxious. Picking into a fruit jar with a little kerosene inthe bottom is the only way to kill them. In one day last season Evancame to my rescue and filled a quart jar in two hours; they are so fatand spunky they may be considered as the big game among garden bugs, andtheir catching, if not carried to an extreme, in the light of sport. 

_July. _ See that all dead flowers are cut off and no petals allowed tomould on the ground. Mulch with short grass during hot, dry weather, anduse liquid manure upon hybrid teas and teas every two weeks, immediatelyafter watering or a rain. Never, at any season, allow a rose to witheron the bush!

_August. _ The same, keeping on the watch for all previous insects butthe rose beetle; this will have left. Mulch hybrid perpetuals if a dryseason, and give liquid manure for the second blooming. 

_September. _ Stir the ground after heavy rains, and watch for tendenciesof mould. 

_October. _ The same. 

_November. _ Begin to draw the soil about roots soon after black frost, and bank up before the ground freezes, but do not add straw, litter, ormanure in the trenches until the ground is actually frozen, which willbe from December first onward, except in the case of teas, which shouldbe covered gradually until the top is reached. 

By this you will judge, Mary Penrose, that a rosary has its labours, aswell as pleasures, and that like all other joys it is accompanied bydifficulties. Yet you can grow good roses if you _will_, but thedifficulty is that most people _won't_. I think, by the way, that remarkbelongs to Dean Hole of fragrant rose-garden memory, and of a truth hehas said all that is likely to be spoken or written about the rose onthe side of both knowledge and human fancy for many a day. 

Modern roses of the hybrid-perpetual and hybrid-tea types may be boughtof several reliable dealers for twenty-five dollars per hundred, in twoconditions, either grown on their own roots or budded on Manette orbrier stock. Personally I prefer the first or natural condition, if theconstitution of the plant is sufficiently vigorous to warrant it. Thereare, however, many indispensable varieties that do better for theinfusion of vigorous brier blood. A budded rose will show the junctionby a little knob where the bud was inserted; this must be planted atleast three inches below ground so that new shoots will be encouraged tospring from _above_ the bud, as those below are merely wild, worthlesssuckers, to be removed as soon as they appear. 

[Illustration: A CONVENIENT ROSE BED. ]

How can you tell wild suckers from the desired growth? At first byfollowing them back to the root until you have taken their measure, butas soon as experience has enlightened you they will be as easilyrecognized at sight as the mongrel dog by a connoisseur. Many admirablevarieties, like Jacqueminot, Anne de Diesbach, Alfred Colomb, MadamePlantier, and all the climbers, do so well on their own roots that it isfoolish to take the risk of budded plants, the worse side of which is atendency to decay at the point of juncture. Tea roses, being of rapidgrowth and flowering wholly upon new wood, are perfectly satisfactorywhen rooted from cuttings. 

Of many well-attested varieties of hybrid perpetuals, hybrid China, orother so-called June roses, you may at the start safely select from thefollowing twenty. 

_Pink, of various shades_

 1. Anne de Diesbach. One of the most fragrant, hardy, and altogether satisfactory of hybrid perpetual roses. Forms a large bush, covered with large deep carmine-pink flowers. Should be grown on own root. 2. Paul Neyron. Rose pink, of large size, handsome even when fully open. Fragrant and hardy. 3. Cabbage, or Rose The Provence rose of history and old of 100 Leaves. Gardens, supposed to have been known to Pliny. Rich pink, full, fragrant, and hardy. Own roots. 4. Magna Charta. A fine fragrant pink rose of the hybrid China type. Not seen as often as it should be. Own roots. 5. Clio. A vigorous grower with flesh-coloured and pink-shaded blossoms. 6. Oakmont. Exquisite deep rose, fragrant, vigorous, and with a long blooming season. 

_White_

 7. Marchioness of Free, full, and fragrant. Immense Londonderry. Cream-white flowers, carried on long stems. Very beautiful. 8. Madame Plantier A medium-sized, pure white rose, (Hybrid China). With creamy centre; flowers so profusely as to appear to be in clusters. Delicately fragrant, leaves deep green and remarkably free from blights. Perfectly hardy; forms so large a bush in time that it should be placed in the rose shrubbery rather than amid smaller species. 9. Margaret Dickson. A splendid, finely formed, fragrant white rose, with deep green foliage. 10. Coquette des Blanches. One of the very hardy white roses, an occasional pink streak tinting the outside petals. Cup-shaped and a profuse bloomer. 11. Coquette des Alps. A very hardy bush, coming into bloom rather later than the former and lasting well. Satisfactory. 

_Red and Crimson_

12. General Jacqueminot. Bright velvety crimson. The established favourite of its colour and class, though fashion has in some measure pushed it aside for newer varieties. May be grown to a large shrub. Fragrant and hardy. Best when in bud, as it opens rather flat. 13. Alfred Colomb. Bright crimson. Full, sweet. A vigorous grower and entirely satisfactory. If you can grow but one red rose, take this. 14. Fisher Holmes. A seedling of Jacqueminot, but of the darkest velvety crimson; fragrant, and blooms very early. 15. Marshal P. Wilder. Also a seedling of Jacqueminot. Vigorous and of well-set foliage. Full, large flowers of a bright cherry red. Very fragrant. 16. Marie Bauman. A crimson rose of delicious fragrance and lovely shape. This does best when budded on brier or Manette stock, and needs petting and a diet of liquid manure, but it will repay the trouble. 17. Jules Margottin. A fine, old-fashioned, rich red rose, fragrant, and while humble in its demands, well repays liberal feeding. 18. John Hopper. A splendid, early crimson rose, fragrant and easily cared for. 19. Prince Camille de Rohan. The peer of dark red roses, not large, but rich in fragrance and of deep colour. 20. Ulrich Brunner. One of the best out-of-door roses, hardy, carries its bright cerise flowers well, which are of good shape and substance; has few diseases. 

_Moss Roses_

 1. Blanch Moreau (Perpetual). A pure, rich white; the buds, which are heavily mossed, borne in clusters. 2. White Bath. The most familiar white moss rose, sometimes tinged with pink. Open flowers are attractive as well as buds. 3. Crested Moss. Rich pink, deeply mossed, each bud having a fringed crest; fragrant and full. 4. Gracilis. An exquisite moss rose of fairylike construction, the deep pink buds being wrapped and fringed with moss. 5. Common Moss. A hardy pink variety, good only in the bud. 

The moss roses as a whole only bloom satisfactorily in June. 

_Climbers_

1. 

 1. English Sweetbrier. Single pink flowers of the wild-rose type. Foliage of delicious fragrance, perfuming the garden after rain the season through. 

_Penzance Hybrid Sweetbriers, Having Fragrant Foliage and Flowersof Many Beautiful Colours_

 2. Amy Robsart. Pink. 3. Anne of Geierstein. Crimson. 4. Minna. White. 5. Rose Bradwardine. Deep rose. 

2. 

 1. Climbing Jules Margottin. Rosy carmine, very fragrant and full, satisfactory for the pergola, but more so for a pillar, where in winter it can be protected from wind by branches or straw. 2. Baltimore Belle. The old-fashioned blush rose, with clean leaves and solid flowers of good shape. Blooms after other varieties are over. Trustworthy and satisfactory, though not fragrant in flower or leaf. 3. Gem of the Prairie. Red flowers of large size, but rather flat when open. A seedling from Queen of the Prairie, and though not as free as its parent, it has the desirable quality of fragrance. 4. Climbing Belle Siebrecht Fragrant, vigorous, and of (Hybrid Tea). The same deep pink as the standard variety. Grow on pillars. 5. Gloire de Dijon. Colour an indescribable blending of rose, buff, and yellow, deliciously fragrant, double to the heart of crumpled, crêpelike petals. A tea rose and, as an outdoor climber, tender north of Washington, yet it can be grown on a pillar by covering as described on page 126. 

_Hybrid Tea Roses_

 1. La France. The fragrant silver-pink rose, with full, heavy flowers, --the combination of all a rose should be. In the open garden the sun changes its delicate colour quickly. Should be gathered in the bud at evening or, better yet, early morning. Very hardy if properly covered, and grows to a good-sized bush. 2. Kaiserin Augusta White, with a lemon tint in the Victoria. Folds; the fragrance is peculiar to itself, faintly suggesting the Gardenia. 3. Gruss an Teplitz. One of the newer crimson roses, vigorous, with well-cupped flowers. Good for decorative value in the garden, but not a rose of sentiment. 4. Killarney. One of the newer roses that has made good. Beautiful pointed buds of shell-pink, full and at the same time delicate. The foliage is very handsome. If well fed, will amply repay labour. 5. Souvenir de Malmaison. A Bourbon rose that should be treated like a hybrid tea. Shell-pink, fragrant flowers, that have much the same way of opening as Gloire de Dijon. A constant bloomer. 6. Clothilde Soupert. A polyantha or cluster rose of vigorous growth and glistening foliage, quite as hardy as the hybrid tea. It is of dwarf growth and suitable for edging beds of larger roses. The shell-pink flowers are of good form and very double; as they cluster very thickly on the ends of the stems, the buds should be thinned out, as they have an aggravating tendency to mildew before opening. 7. Souvenir de President A charming rose with shadows of all Carnot. The flesh tints, from white through blush to rose; sturdy and free. 8. Caroline Testout. Very large, round flowers, of a delicate shell-pink, flushed with salmon; sturdy. 

_Teas_

 1. Bon Silene. The old favourite, unsurpassed for fragrance as a button-hole flower, or table decoration when blended with ferns or fragrant foliage plants. Colour "Bon Silene, " tints of shaded pink and carmine, all its own. 2. Papa Gontier. A rose as vigorous as the hybrid teas, and one that may be easily wintered. Pointed buds of deep rose shading to crimson and as fragrant as Bon Silene, of which it is a hybrid. Flowers should be gathered in the bud. 3. Safrano. A true "tea" rose of characteristic shades of buff and yellow, with the tea fragrance in all its perfection. Best in the bud. Vigorous and a fit companion for Papa Gontier and Bon Silene. 4. Perle des Jardins. An exquisite, fragrant double rose of light clear yellow, suggesting the Marechal Niel in form, but of paler colour. Difficult to winter out of doors, but worth the trouble of lifting to cold pit or light cellar, or the expense of renewing annually. One of the lovable roses. 5. Bride. The clear white rose, sometimes with lemon shadings used for forcing; clean, handsome foliage and good fragrance. Very satisfactory in my garden when old plants are used, as described. 6. Bridesmaid. The pink companion of the above with similar attributes. 7. Etoille de Lyon. A vigorous, deep yellow rose, full and sweet. Almost as hardy as a hybrid tea and very satisfactory. 8. Souvenir d'un Ami. A deliciously fragrant light pink rose, with salmon shadings. Very satisfactory and as hardy as some of the hybrid teas. 

_Miscellaneous Roses for the Shrubbery_

 1. Harrison's Yellow. An Austrian brier rose with clear yellow semi-double flowers. Early and very hardy. Should be grown on its own roots, as it will then spread into a thicket and make the rosary a mass of shimmering gold in early June. 

_Damask Roses_

 Should be grown on own root, when they will form shrubs five feet high. 2. Madame Hardy. Pure white. Very fragrant, well-cupped flower, Time tried and sturdy. 3. Rosa Damascena Rose colour. Triginitipela. 

_Rugosa_

 The tribe of Japanese origin, conspicuous as bushes of fine foliage and handsome shape, as well as for the large single blossoms that are followed by seed vessels of brilliant scarlet hues. 4. Agnes Emily Carman. Flowers in clusters, "Jacqueminot" red, with long-fringed golden stamens. Continuous bloomer. Hardy and perfect. 5. Rugosa alba. Pure white, highly scented. 6. Rugosa rubra. Single crimson flowers of great beauty. 7. Chedane Guinoisseau. Flowers, satin pink and very large. Blooms all the summer. 

Now, Mary Penrose, having made up your mind to have a rosary, causegarden line and shovel to be set in that side lawn of yours withouthesitation. Do not wait until autumn, because you cannot plant the hardyroses until then and do not wish to contemplate bare ground. This sightis frequently wholesome and provocative of good horticultural digestion. You need only begin with one-half of Evan's plan, letting the pergolaenclose the walk back of the house, and later on you can add the otherwing. 

If the pergola itself is built during the summer, you can sit under it, and by going over your list and colour scheme locate each rose finallybefore its arrival. By the way, until the climbers are well started youmay safely alternate them with vines of the white panicled clematis, that will be in bloom in August and can be easily kept from clutchingits rose neighbours!

By and by, when you have planted your roses, tucked them in their wintercovers, and can sit down with a calm mind, I will lend you threeprecious rose books of mine. These are Dean Hole's _Book about Roses_, for both the wit and wisdom o't; _The Amateur Gardener's Rose Book_, rescued from the German by John Weathers, F. R. H. S. , for its commonsense, well-arranged list of roses, and beautiful coloured plates, andH. B. Ellwanger's little treatise on _The Rose_, a competent chronologyof the flower queen up to 1901, written concisely and from the Americanstandpoint. If I should send them now, you would be so bewildered by theenumeration of varieties, many unsuited to this climate, intoxicated bythe descriptions of Rose-garden possibilities, and carried away by theliterary and horticultural enthusiasm of the one-time master of theDeanery Garden, Rochester, that, like the child turned loose in the toyshop, you would lose the power of choosing. 

Lavinia Cortright lost nearly a year in beginning her rosary, owing to asimilar condition of mind, and Evan and I long ago decided that when weread we cannot work, and _vice versa_, so when the Garden of Outdoors isabed and asleep each year, we enter the Garden of Books with freshdelight. 

Have you a man with quick wit and a straight eye to be the spade handduring the Garden Vacation? If not, make haste to find him, for, as youhave had Barney for five years, he is probably too set in his ways towork at innovations cheerfully!

VIII

A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE

(Mary Penrose to Barbara Campbell)

_June 21. _ The rosary has been duly surveyed, staked according to theplan, and the border lines fixed with the garden line dipped inwhitewash, so that if we only plant a bed at a time, our ambition willalways be before us. But as yet no man cometh to dig. This process is ofgreater import than it may seem, because with the vigorousthree-year-old sod thus obtained do we purpose to turf the edges of thebeds for hardy and summer flowers that border the squares of thevegetable garden. These strips now crumble earth into the walks, and theslightest footfall is followed by a landslide. We had intended to usenarrow boards for edging, but Bart objects, like the old retainer inKipling's story of _An Habitation Enforced_, on the ground that theywill deteriorate from the beginning and have to be renewed every fewyears, whereas the turf will improve, even if it is more trouble to carefor. 

At present the necessity of permanence is one of the things that isimpressing us both, for after us--the Infant! Until a year ago I had apositive dread of being so firmly fixed anywhere that to spread wingsand fly here and there would be difficult, but now it seems the mostdelightful thing to be rooted like the old apple tree on the side hill, the last of the old orchard, that has leaned against the upland winds somany years that it is well-nigh bent double, yet the root anchors holdand it is still a thing of beauty, like rosy-cheeked old folk with snowyhair. I do not think that I ever realized this in its fulness until Ileft the house and came out, though but a short way, to live with and init all. 

You were right in thinking that Barney would not encourageinnovations, --he does not! He says that turf lifted in summer alwayslies uneasy and breeds worms. 

This seems to be an age for the defiance of horticultural tradition, forwe are finding out every day that you can "lift" almost anything ofherbaceous growth at any time and make it live, if you are willing totake pains enough, though of course transplanting is done with lesstrouble and risk at the prescribed seasons. 

The man-with-the-shovel question is quite a serious one hereabouts atpresent, for the Water Company has engaged all the rough-and-readylabourers for a long season and that has raised both the prices andthe noses of the wandering accommodators in the air. Something willprobably turn up. Now we are transplanting hardy ferns; for though thetender tops break, there is yet plenty of time for a second growth androoting before winter. 

[Illustration: THE LAST OF THE OLD ORCHARD. Copyright, 1903, H. Hendrickson. ]

Meanwhile there is a leisurely old carpenter who recently turned up asheir of the Opal Farm, Amos Opie by name, who is thinking of livingthere, and has signified his willingness to undertake the pergola byhour's work, "if he is not hustled, " as soon as the posts arrive. 

The past ten days have been full of marvellous discoveries for the"peculiar Penroses, " as Maria Maxwell heard us called down at the GolfClub, where she represented me at the mid-June tea, which I had whollyforgotten that I had promised to manage when I sent out those P. P. C. Cards and stopped the clocks!

It seems that the first impression was that financial disaster hadovertaken us, when instead of vanishing in a touring car preceded bytooting and followed by a cloud of oil-soaked steam, we took to our ownwoods, followed by Barney with our effects in a wheelbarrow. It is avery curious fact--this attributing of every action a bit out of thecommon to the stress of pocket hunger. It certainly proves thatadvanced as we are supposed to be to-day as links in the evolutionarychain, we have partially relapsed and certainly show strong evidences ofsheep ancestry. 

Haven't you noticed, Mrs. Evan, how seldom people are content to acceptone's individual tastes or desire to do a thing without a good andsufficient reason therefor? It seems incomprehensible to them that anyone should wish to do differently from his neighbour unless fromfinancial incapacity; the frequency with which one is suspected of beingin this condition strongly points to the likelihood that the criticsthemselves chronically live beyond their means and in constant danger ofcollapse. 

If this was thought of us a few weeks ago, it seems to have beensidetracked by Maria Maxwell's contribution to, and management of, thegolf tea. She is said not only to have compounded viands that areordinarily sold in exchange for many dollars by New York confectioners, but she certainly made more than a presentable appearance as "matron" ofthe receiving committee of young girls. Certainly Maria with a musicroll, a plain dark suit, every hair tethered fast, and common-senseshoes, plodding about her vocation in snow and mud, and Maria "letloose, " as Bart calls it, are a decided contrast. Except that she hasnot parted with her sunny common-sense, she is quite a new person. Ofcourse I could not have objected to it, but I was afraid that she mighttake it into her head to instruct the Infant in vocal music after themanner of the locustlike sounds that you hear coming over the loweredtops of school windows as soon as the weather grows warm, or else taketo practising scales herself, for we had only known the technical partof her calling. In short, we feared that we should be do-re-mi-ou'd pastendurance. Instead of which, scraps of the gayest of ballads float overthe knoll in the evening, and the Infant's little shrill pipe is beinginoculated with real music, _via_ Mother Goose melodies sung in adelightfully subdued contralto. 

From the third day after her arrival people began to call upon Maria. Imade such a positive declaration of surrender of all matters pertainingto the household, including curiosity, when Maria took charge, --and shein return promised that we should not be bothered with anything not "ofvital importance to our interests, "--that, unless she runs through thehousekeeping money before the time, I haven't a ghost of an excuse forasking questions, --but I do wonder how she manages! Also, to whom theshadows belong that cross the south piazza at night or intercept therays of the dining-room lamp, our home beacon of dark nights. 

In addition to the usual and convenient modern shirt-waist-and-skirtendowment, Maria had when she came but two gowns, one of black muslinand the other white, with improvised hats to match, --simple, gracefulgowns, yet oversombre. 

But lo! she has blossomed forth like a spring seed catalogue, and Bartinsists that I watched the gate with his field-glass an hour theafternoon of the tea, to see her go out. I did no such thing; I waslooking at an oriole's nest that hangs in the elm over the road, but Icould not help seeing the lovely pink flower hat that she wore atilt, with just enough pink at the neck and streamers at the waist of herdress to harmonize. 

I visited the larder that evening for supper supplies, --yes, we havebecome so addicted to the freedom of outdoors that for the last few daysBart has brought even the dinner up to camp, waiting upon mebeautifully, for now we have entirely outgrown the feeling of the firstfew days that we were taking part in a comedy, and have found ourselves, as it were--in some ways, I think, for the first time. 

Anastasia seemed consumed with a desire for a dish of gossip, but wasnot willing to take the initiative. She chuckled to herself and triedseveral perfectly transparent ways of attracting my attention, until Itook pity on her, a very one-sided pity too, for, between ourselves, Anastasia is the domestic salt and pepper that gives the Garden Vacationa flavour that I should sadly miss. 

"Miss Marie, " she exclaimed, "do be the tastiest creaytur ever I set meeyes on. " (She refused absolutely to call her Maria; that name, sheholds, is only fit for a settled old maid, "and that same it's not sureand fair to mark any woman wid being this side the grave. ")

Then I knew that I only had to sit down and raise my eyes to Anastasia'sface in an attitude of attention, to open the word gates, and this Idid. 

"Well, fust off win she got the invite ter sing at the swarry that topsoff the day's doings down to that Golf Club, she was that worried abouthats you never seen the like! She wus over ter Bridgeton, and Barneyswore he drove her ter every milliner in the place, and says she ter me, pleasant like, that evenin', when returned, in excuse fer havin' nothin'to show, 'Oh, Annie, Annie, it would break yer heart to see the littlewhisp of flowers they ask five dollars for; to fix me hats a triflewould part me from a tin-dollar bill!'"

(The sentiments I at once perceived might be Maria's, but theirtranslation Anastasia's. )

"Now Miss Marie, she's savin' like, --not through meanness, but becauseshe's got the good Irish heart that boils against payin' rint, and she'shoardin' crown by shillin' till she kin buy her a cabin and to say apertaty patch for a garden, somewhere out where it's green! Faith! butshe'll do it too; she's a manager! Yez had orter see the illigant bonedturkey she made out o' veal, stuck through with shrivelled black groundapples, she called 'puffles'! an glued it up foine wid jelly. Sez I, 'They'll never know the difference, ' but off she goes and lets it outand tells the makin' uv it ter every woman on the hill, --that's all Ihev agin her. She's got a disease o' truth-telling when there's no needthat would anguish the saints o' Hiven theirselves!

"'I kin make better 'n naturaler-lookin' hats fer nothin', here at home, than they keep in N' York, ' she says after looking out the back window apiece. 'And who'll help yer?' says I, 'and where'll yer git the posiesand what all?'

"'I bought some bolts o' ribbon to-day, ' says she, smilin'; 'and fer therest, the garden, you, and I will manage it together, if you'll lend mea shelf all to meself in the cold closet whenever I need it!' Sure fer amoment I wuz oneasy, fer I thought a wild streak run branchin' throughall the boss's family!"

(At the words Garden, You, and I, there flashed through me the thoughtof some telepathic influence at work. )

"'The garden's full o' growin' posies that outshames the flower-makers;watch out and see, Anastasia!'

"Well and I did!! This mornin' early she picks a lot o' them sticky pinkflowers by the stoop, the colour o' chiny shells, wid spokes in themlike umbrellas, and the thick green leaves, and after leavin' 'em inwater a spell, puts 'em in me cold closet, a small bit o' wet moss tiedto each stem end wid green sewin' silk! A piece after dinner out shecomes wid the hat that's covered with strong white lace, and she cocksit this way and pinches it that and sews the flowers to it quick wid abig thread and a great splashin' bow on behind, and into the cold boxagin!

"'That's fer this afternoon, ' says she, and before she wore it off (ahat that Eve, mother o' sin, and us all would envy), she'd another readyfor the night! 'Will it spoil now and give yer away, I wonder?' says I, anxious like. 

"'Not fer two hours, at least; and it'll keep me from stayin' too long;if I do, it'll wither away and leave me all forlorn, like Cinderella andher pumpkin coach!' she said a-smilin' kind uv to herself in me kitchenmirror, when she put the hat on. 'But I'm not insultin' God's flowerstryin' to pass them off for French ones, Annie, ' says she. 'I'm settin'a new garden fashion; let them follow who will!' and away wid her! Thatsame other is in here now, and it's no sin to let yer peep, gin it's yeown posies and ye chest they're in. " So, throwing open the doorAnastasia revealed the slate shelf covered by a sheet of white paper, while resting on an empty pickle jar, for a support, was the second hat, of loosely woven black straw braid, an ornamental wire edging the brimthat would allow it to take a dozen shapes at will. It was garlanded bya close-set wreath of crimson peonies grading down to blush, all in halfbud except one full-blown beauty high in front and one under the brimset well against the hair, while covering the wire, caught firm andclose, were glossy, fragrant leaves of the wild sweetbrier made into avine. 

Ah, well, this is an unexpected development born of our experiment and ahuman sort of chronicle for The Garden, You, and I. 

One of the most puzzling things in this living out-of-doors on our ownplace is the reversal of our ordinary viewpoints. Never before did Irealize how we look at the outdoor world from inside the house, whereinanimate things force themselves into comparison. Now we are seeingfrom outside and looking in at ourselves, so to speak, very much likethe robin, who has his third nest, lop-sided disaster having overtakenthe other two, in the old white lilac tree over my window. 

Some of our doings, judged from the vantage point of the knoll, are veryinconsistent. The spot occupied by the drying yard is the most suitableplace for the new strawberry bed, and is in a direct line between thefence gap, where my fragrant things are to be, and the Rose Garden. Several of the walks that have been laid out according to the plan, whenseen from this height, curve around nothing and reach nowhere. We shallpresently satisfy their empty embraces with shrubs and locate variousother conspicuous objects at the terminals. 

Also, the house is kept too much shut up; it looks inhospitable, seenthrough the trees, with branches always tossing wide to the breeze andsun. Even if a room is unoccupied by people, it is no reason why the sunshould be barred out, and at best we ourselves surely spend too muchtime in our houses in the season when every tree is a roof. We havedecided not to move indoors again this summer, but to lodge here in thetime between vacations and to annex the Infant. 

Oh, Mrs. Evan, dear! there is one thing in which _The Man fromEverywhere_ reckoned without his host! Stopping the clocks when we wentin camp did not dislodge Time from the premises; rather did it open thedoor to his entrance hours earlier than usual, when one of the chiefestluxuries we promised ourselves was late sleeping. 

Stretched on our wire-springed, downy cots (there is positively novirtue in sleeping on hard beds, and Bart considers it an absolutevice), there is a delicious period before sleep comes. Bats flit aboutthe rafters, and an occasional swallow twitters and shifts among thebeams as the particular nest it guarded grew high and difficult to mountfrom the growth of the lusty brood within. The scuffle of little feetover the rough floor brings indolent, half-indifferent guessing as towhich of the lesser four-foots they belonged. The whippoorwills down inthe river woods call until they drop off, one by one, and the timidditty of a singing mouse that lives under the floor by my cot is thelast message the sandman sends to close our eyes before sleep. And suchsleep! That first steel-blue starlit night in the open we said that wemeant to sleep and sleep it out, even if we lost a whole day by it. Itseemed but a moment after sleep had claimed us, when, struggling throughthe heavy darkness, came far-away light strands groping for our eyes, and soft, half-uttered music questioning the ear. Returning I opened myeyes, and there was the sun struggling slowly through the screen ofwhite birches in Opie's wood lot, and scattering the night mists thatbound down the Opal Farm with heavy strands; the air was tense withflitting wings, bird music rose, fell, and drifted with the mist, and itwas only half-past four! You cannot kill time, you see, by stoppingclocks--with nature day _Is_, beyond all dispute. In two days, byobeying instead of opposing natural sun time, we had swung half roundthe clock, only now and then imitating the habits of our four-footedbrothers that steal abroad in the security of twilight. 

[Illustration: THE SCREEN OF WHITE BIRCHES. Copyright, 1901, H. Hendrickson. ]

_June 24. _ Amos Opie, the carpenter, owner of Opal Farm, is now keepingwidower's hall in the summer kitchen thereof. A thin thread of smokecomes idly from the chimney of the lean-to in the early morning, and atevening the old man sits in the well-house porch reading his paper solong as the light lasts, a hound of the ancient blue-spotted variety, with heavy black and tan markings, keeping him company. 

These two figures give the finishing touch to the picture that liesbeyond us as we look from the sheltered corner of the camp, andstrangely enough, though old Opie is not of the direct line and hasnever lived in this part of New England before, he goes about with asort of half-reminiscent air, as if picking up a clew long lost, whileDave, the hound, at once assumed proprietary rights and shows an uncannywisdom about the well-nigh fenceless boundaries. After his master hasgone to bed, Dave will often come over to visit us, after the calmfashion of a neighbour who esteems it a duty. At least that was hisattitude at first; but after a while, when I had told him what a fine, melancholy face he had, that it was a mistake not to have christened himHamlet, and that altogether he was a good fellow, following up theconversation with a comforting plate of meat scraps (Opie beingevidently a vegetarian), Dave began to develop a more youthfuldisposition. A week ago Bart's long-promised, red setter pup arrived, aspirit of mischief on four clumsy legs. Hardly had I taken him from hisbox (I wished to be the one to "first foot" him from captivity into thefamily, for that is a courtesy a dog never forgets) when we saw thatDave was sitting just outside the doorless threshold watching solemnly. 

The puppy, with a gleeful bark, licked the veteran on the nose, whereatthe expression of his face changed from one of uncertainty to a smile ofindulgent if mature pleasure, and now he takes his young friend on adaily ramble down the pasture through the bit of marshy ground to theriver, always bringing him back within a reasonable length of time, withan air of pride. Evidently the hound was lonely. 

_The Man from Everywhere_, who prowls about even more than usual, usingBart's den for his own meanwhile, says that the setter will be ruined, for the hound will be sure to trail him on fox and rabbit, and that inconsequence he will never after keep true to birds, but somehow we donot care, this dog-friendship between the stranger and the pup is sointeresting. 

By the way, we have financially persuaded Opie to leave his stragglingmeadow, that carpets our vista to the river, for a wild garden thissummer, instead of selling it as "standing grass, " which the purchasershad usually mown carelessly and tossed into poor-grade hay, giving apittance in exchange that went for taxes. 

So many flowers and vines have sprung up under shelter of thetumble-down fences that I was very anxious to see what pictures wouldpaint themselves if the canvas, colour, and brushes were left free forthe season through. Already we have had our money's worth, so thateverything beyond will be an extra dividend. The bit of marshy groundhas been for weeks a lake of iris, its curving brink foamed with meadowrue and Osmundas that have all the dignity of palms. 

Now all the pasture edge is set with wild roses and wax-white blueberryflowers. Sundrops are grouped here and there, with yellow thistles; thenative sweetbrier arches over gray boulders that are tumbled togetherlike the relic of some old dwelling; and the purple red calopogon of theorchid tribe adds a new colour to the tapestry, the cross-stitch fillingbeing all of field daisies. Truly this old farm is a well-nigh perfectwild garden, the strawberries dyeing the undergrass red, and the hedgesbound together with grape-vines. It does not need rescuing, but lettingalone, to be the delight of every one who wishes to enjoy. 

On being approached as to his future plans, Amos Opie merely sets hislips, brings his finger-tips together, and says, "I'm open to offers, but I'm not bound to set a price or hurry my decisions. "

Meanwhile I am living in a double tremor, of delight at the present andfear lest some one may snap up the place and give us what the comicpaper called a Queen Mary Anne cottage and a stiff lawn surrounded by agas-pipe fence to gaze upon. O for a pair of neighbours who would joinus in comfortable vagabondage, leave the white birches to frame themeadows and the wild flowers in the grass!

_June 25. _ We have been having some astonishing thunder-storms of nightslately, and I must say that upon one occasion I fled to the house. Twonights ago, however, the sun set in an even sky of lead, there was nowind, no grumblings of thunder. We had passed a very active day andfinished placing the stakes on the knoll in the locations to be occupiedby shrubs and trees, all numbered according to the tagged specimens overin the reservoir woods. 

_The Man from Everywhere_ suggested this system, an adaptation, he says, from the usual one of numbering stones for a bit of masonry. It willprevent confusion, for the perspective will be different when the leaveshave fallen, and as we lift the bushes, each one will go to its place, and we shall not lose a year's growth, or perhaps the shrub itself, by asecond moving. Our one serious handicap is the lack of a pair of extrahands, in this work as in the making of the rose bed, for ourtransplanting has developed upon a wholesale plan. Barney does notapprove of our passion for the wild; besides, between potatoes and cornto hoe, celery seedlings to have their first transplanting, vegetablesto pick, turf grass to mow, and edges to keep trim, with a horse andcow to tend in addition, nothing more can be expected of him. 

I was half dozing, half listening, as usual, to the various little nightsounds that constantly pique my curiosity, for no matter how long youmay have lived in the country you are not wholly in touch with it untilyou have slept at least a few nights in the open, --when rain began tofall softly, an even, persevering, growing rain, entirely different fromthe lashing thunder-showers, and though making but half the fuss, wasdoubly penetrating. Thinking how good it was for the ferns, andventuring remarks to Bart about them, which, however, fell on sleep-deafears, I made sure that the pup was in his chosen place by my cot anddrifted away to shadow land, glad that something more substantial thanboughs covered me!

I do not know how long it was before I wakened, but the first sound thatformulated itself was the baying of Dave, the hound, from the well-houseporch, where he slept when his evening rambles kept him out until afterAmos Opie had gone to bed. Having freed his mind, Dave presentlystopped, but other nearer-by sounds made me again on the alert. 

The rain, that was falling with increasing power, held one key; the dripfrom the eaves and the irregular gush from a broken waterspout playedseparate tunes. I am well used to the night-time bravado of mice, whofight duels and sometimes pull shoes about, of the pranks of squirrelsand other little wood beasts about the floor, but the noise that made mesit up in the cot and reach over until I could clutch Bart by the armbelonged to neither of these. There was a swishing sound, as of waterbeing wrung from something and dropping on the floor, and then a humanexclamation, blended of a sigh, a wheeze, and a cough, at which the pupwakened with a growl entirely out of proportion to his age andinexperience. 

"I wonder, now, is that a dog or only uts growl ter sind me back in thewet fer luv av the laugh at me?" chirped a voice as hoarse as a butterybrogue would allow it to be. 

My clutch had brought Bart to himself instantly, and at the words heturned the electric flashlight, that lodged under his pillow, full inthe direction of the sound, where it developed a strange picture andprinted it clearly on the opposite wall. 

In the middle of the circle of light was a little barefoot man, introusers and shirt; a pair of sodden shoes lay at different angles wherethey had been kicked off, probably making the sound that had wakened me, and at the moment of the flash he was occupied in the wringing out of acoat that seemed strangely long for the short frame upon which it hadhung. The face turned toward us was unmistakably Irish, comical even, entirely unalarming, and with the expression, blended of terror anddoubt, that it now wore, he might have slipped from the pages of avolume of Lever that lay face down on the table. The nose turned up atthe tip, as if asking questions of the eyes, that hid themselves betweenthe half-shut lids in order to avoid answering. The skin was tanned, andyet you had a certain conviction that minus the tan the man would bevery pale, while the iron-gray hair that topped the head crept down toform small mutton-chop whiskers and an Old Country throat thatch thatwas barely half an inch long. 

Bart touched me to caution silence, and I, seeing at once that there wasnothing to fear, waited developments. 

As soon as he could keep his eyes open against the sudden glare, thelittle man tried to grasp the column of light in his fingers, thendarted out of it, and I thought he had bolted from the barn; but no, hewas instantly back again, and dilapidated as he was, he did not looklike a professional tramp. 

"No, yez don't fool Larry McManus agin! Yez are a mane, cold light withall yer blinkin', and no fire beneath to give 'im the good uv a cup o'tay or put a warm heart in 'im! Two nights agone 'twas suspicion o' ratskep' me from shlapin', yesternight 'twas thought o' what wud become ofpoor Oireland (Mary rest her) had we schnakes there ter fill the drameso' nights loike they do here whin a man's a drap o'er full o' comfort. 'Tis a good roof above! Heth, thin, had I a whisp o' straw and a bite, wid this moonlight fer company, I'd not shog from out this the night tobe King!

"Saints! but there's a dog beyant the bark!" he cried a minute after, asthe pup crept over to him and began to be friendly, --"I wonder is a monsinsible to go to trustin' the loight o' any moon that shines full on apitch-black noight whin 'tis rainin'? Och hone! but me stomach's thatempty, gin I don't put on me shoes me lungs'll lake trou the soles o' mefate, and gin I do, me shoes they're that sopped, I'll cough themup--o-whurra-r-a! whurra-a! but will I iver see Old Oireland agin, --Idon't know!"

Bart shut off the light, slipped on his shoes, and drawing a coat overhis pajamas lighted the oil stable lantern, hung it with its back towardme, on a long hook that reached down from one of the rafters, and boredown upon Larry, whose face was instantly wreathed in puckered smilesat the sight of a fellow-human who, though big, evidently had nointention of being aggressive. 

"Well, Larry McManus, " said Bart, cheerfully, "how came you in this barnso far away from Oireland a night like this?"

"Seein' as yer another gintleman o' the road in the same ploice, whatmore loike than the misfortune's the same?" replied he, lengthening hislower lip and stretching his stubby chin, which he scratched cautiously. Then, as he raised his eyes to Bart's, he evidently read something inhis general air, touselled and tanned as he was, that shifted hisopinion at least one notch. 

"Maybe, sor, you're an actor mon, sor, that didn't suit the folks in thetown beyant, sor, but I'd take it as praise, so I would, for shurethey're but pigs there, --I couldn't stop wid thim meself! Thin agin, mayhap yer jest a plain gintleman, a bit belated, as it were, --a littlebelated on the way home, sor, --loike me, sor, that wus moinded to be inKildare, sor, come May-day, and blessed Peter's day's nigh come aboutan' I'm here yit!"

"You are getting on the right scent, Larry, " said Bart, struggling withlaughter, and yet, as he said after, not wishing possibly to huff thiscurious person. "I hope I'm a gentleman, but I'm not tramping about;this is my barn, in which my wife and I are sleeping, so if I were you, I wouldn't take off that shirt until I can find you a dry one!"

The change that came over the man was comical. In a lightning flash hehad fastened the few buttons in his blouse that it had taken hisfumbling fingers several moments to unloose, and dropping one hand tohis side, he held it there rigid as he saluted with two fingers at thebrim of an imaginary hat; while his roving eye quickly took in thevarious motley articles of furniture of our camp, --a small kitchen tablewith oil-stove and tea outfit of plain white ware, some plates andbowls, a few saucepans, half a dozen chairs, no two alike, and the twocots huddled in the shadows, --his voice, that had been pitched in aconfidential key, arose to a wail:--

"The Saints luv yer honor, but do they be afther havin' bad landlords inMeriky too, that evicted yer honor from yer house, sor? I thought herenigh every poor body owned their own bit, ground and roof, sor, letalone a foine man loike yerself that shows the breedin' down to his tintoes, sor. Oi feel fer yer honor, fer there wuz I meself set out wid pigand cow both, sor (for thim bein' given Kathy by her aunt fer herfortin could not be took), six years ago Patrick's tide, sor, and hadn'tshe married Mulqueen that same week, sor (he bein' gardener a long timeto his Riverence over in England, sor, and meetin' Kathy only at hismother's wakin'), I'd maybe been lodged in a barn meself, sor! Sure, hevye the cow below ud let me down a drap o' milk?"

Then did Bart laugh long and heartily, for this new point of view inregard to our doings amused him immensely. Of all the local motivesattributed to our garden vacation, none had been quite so naïve andunexpected as this!

"But we haven't been evicted, " said Bart, unconsciously beginning toapologize to an unknown straggler. "I own this place and my home isyonder; we are camping here for our health and pleasure. Come, it's timeyou gave an account of yourself, as you are trespassing. " That thesituation suddenly began to annoy Bart was plain. 

Ignoring the tail of the speech, Larry saluted anew: "Sure, sor, I knewye at first fer gintleman and leddy, which this same last proves; a ralegintleman and his leddy can cut about doin' the loikes of which poorfolks ud be damned fer! I mind well how Lord Kilmartin's youngest--shewid the wild red hair an' eyes that wud shame a doe--used to gobarefoot through the dew down to Biddie Macks's cabin to drink freshbuttermilk, whin they turned gallons o' it from their own dairy. Somesaid, underbreath, she was touched, and some wild loike, but none spokeloud but to wish her speed, fer that's what it is to be a leddy!

"Meself, is it? Och, it's soon told. Six years lived I there wid Kathyand Mulqueen, workin' in the garden, he keepin' before me, until one dayhis Riverence come face agin me thruble. Oh, yis, sor, that same, thatbit sup that's too much for the stomick, sor, and so gets into the toesand tongue, sor! Four times a year the spell's put on me, sor, and gin Ishlape it over, I'm a good man in between, sor, but that one time, sor, Mulqueen was sint to Lunnon, sor, and I missed me shlape fer mischief. 

"Well, thinks I, I'll go to Meriky and see me Johnny, me youngest; mostloike they're more used to the shlapin' spells out there where all isfree; but they wasn't! Johnny's a sheriff and got money wid his woman, and she's no place in her house fit fer the old man resting the drapoff. So he gives me money to go home first class, and says he'll sindanother bit along to Kathy fer me keepin'. 

"This was come Easter, and bad cess, one o' me shlapes was due, and soI've footed it to get a job to take me back to Kathy. If I could strikea port just right, Hiven might get me home between times in a cattleboat. 

"I'm that well risted now I could do good work if I had full feed, maybetill Michaelmas. Hiven rest ye, sor, but have ye ever a job o' gardenwork now on yer estate, sor, that would kape me until I got the bit tocross to Kathy?"

As Bart hesitated, I burst forth, "Have you ever tended flowers, Larry?"

"Flowers, me leddy?--that's what I did fer his Riverence, indoors andout, and dressed them fer the shows, mem, and not few's the prize moneywe took. His Riverence, he called a rose for Kathy, that is to sayKathleen; 'twas that big 'twould hide yer face. Flowers, is it? Well, Idon't know!"

Bart, meanwhile, had made a plan, telling Larry that he would draw a cupof tea and give him something to eat, while he thought the matter over. He soon had the poor fellow wrapped in an old blanket and snoringcomfortably in the straw, while, as the rain had stopped and dawn beganto show the outlines of Opal Farm, Bart suggested that I had best goindoors and finish my broken sleep, while he had a chance to scrutinizeLarry by daylight before committing himself. 

When he rejoined me several hours later for an indoor breakfast, for ithad turned to rain again and promised several days of the saturateweather that makes even a mountain camp utterly dreary, he brought methe news that Larry was to work for me especially, beginning on the rosebed, --that he would lodge with Amos Opie and take his meals withAnastasia, who thinks it likely that they are cousins on the mothers'side, as they are both of the same parish and name. The _exact_ way ofour meeting with him need not be dwelt upon domestically, for the sakeof discipline, as he will have more self-respect among his fellows inthe combination clothes we provided, "until his baggage arrives. " He isto be paid no money, and allowed to "shlape" if a spell unhappilyarrives. When the season is over, Bart agrees to see him on board shipwith a prepaid passage straight to Kathy, and whatever else is his duesent to her! Meanwhile he promised to "fit the leddy with the tastiestgarden off the old sod!"

So here we are!

This chronicle should have a penny-dreadful title, "Their MidnightAdventure, or How it Rained a Rose Gardener!" Tell me about the fernsnext time; we have only moved the glossy Christmas and evergreen-crestedwood ferns as yet, being sure of these. 

How about our fencing? Ask Evan. You remember that we have apicket-fence toward the road, but on three sides the boundary is only atumble-down stone wall in which bird cherries have here and there foundfooting. We have a chance to sell the stones, and Bart is thinking ofit, as it will be too costly to rebuild on a good foundation. The oldwall was merely a rough-laid pile. 

IX

FERNS, FENCES, AND WHITE BIRCHES

(Barbara Campbell to Mary Penrose)

_Hemlock Hills, July 3. _ For nearly a week we have been saunteringthrough this most entrancing hill country, practically a pedestriantrip, except that the feet that have taken the steps have been shod withsteel instead of leather. Your last chronicle has followed me, and wasread in a region so pervaded by ferns that your questions concerningtheir transplanting would have answered themselves if you could haveonly perched on the rock beside me. There is a fern-lined ravine below, a fern-bordered road in front; and above a log cottage, set in aclearing in the hemlocks which has for its boundaries the tumble-downfence piled by the settlers a century or two ago, its crevices nowfilled by leaf-mould, has become at once a natural fernery and abarrier. Why do you not use your old wall in a like manner? Of courseyour stones may be too closely piled and lack the time-gatheredleaf-mould, but a little discretion in removing or tipping a stone hereand there, and a crowbar for making pockets, would work wonders. Youmight even exchange the surplus rocks for leaf-mould, load by load; atany rate large quantities of fern soil must be obtainable for thecarting at the reservoir woods. 

Imagine the effect, if you please, of that irregular line of rocksswathed in vines and sheltering great clumps of ferns, while it willafford an endless shelter for every sort of wild thing that you may pickup in your rambles. Of course you need not plant it all at once, buthaving made the plan, develop it at leisure. 

You should never quite finish a country place unless you expect to leaveit. The something more in garden life is the bale of hay before thehorse's nose on the uphill road. Last year, for almost a week, wethought our garden quite as finished as the material and surroundingswould allow, --it was a strange, dismal, hollow sort of feeling. However, it was soon displaced by the desire that I have to collect my best rosesin one spot, add to them, and gradually form a rosary where the GardenQueen and all her family may have the best of air, food, and lodgings. You see I feared that the knoll, hardy beds, and rose garden were notsufficient food for your mind to ruminate, so I add the fern fence as asort of dessert!

[Illustration: AN ENDLESS SHELTER FOR EVERY SORT OF WILDTHING. ]

"Where is the shade that ferns need?" I hear you ask, "for exceptunder some old apple trees and where the bird cherries grow (and they, though beautiful at blooming time and leaf fall, attract tentcaterpillars), the stone wall lies in the sun!"

Yes, but in one of the woodland homes of this region I have seen ascreen placed by such a rustic stone fence that it not only served thepurpose of giving light shade, but was a thing of beauty in itself, dividing the vista into many landscapes, the frame being long or uprightaccording to the planter's fancy. 

Do you remember the old saying "When away keep open thine eyes, and sopack thy trunk for the home-going?"

On this drive of ours I've been cramming my trunk to overflowing, andyet the ideas are often the simplest possible, for the people of thisregion, with more inventive art than money, have the perfect gift ofadapting that which lies nearest to hand. 

You spoke in your last chronicle of the screen of white birches throughwhich you saw the sun rise over the meadows of Opal Farm. This birchsprings up in waste lands almost everywhere. We have it in abundance inthe wood lot on the side of our hill, and it is scattered through thewet woods below our wild walk, showing that all it needs is a foothold. 

Because it is common and the wood rather weak and soft, landscapegardening has rather passed it by, turning a cold shoulder, yet theslender tree is very beautiful. True, it has not the length of life, thegirth and strength of limb, of the silver-barked canoe birch, but thewhite birch will grow in a climate that fevers its northern cousin. Inspite of its delicate qualities, it is not a trivial tree, for I haveseen it with a bole of more than forty feet in length, measuringeighteen inches through at the ground. When you set it, you are notplanting for posterity, perhaps, but will gain a speedy result; and thefertility of the tree, when once established, will take care of thefuture. 

What is more charming after a summer shower than a natural cluster ofthese picturesque birches, as they often chance to group themselves inthrees, like the Graces--the soft white of the trunks, with darkhieroglyphic shadows here and there disappearing in a drapery of glossyleaves, green above and reflecting the bark colour underneath, alla-quiver and more like live things poised upon the russet twigs thandelicate pointed leaves! Then, when the autumn comes, how they stand outin company with cedar bushes and sheep laurel on the hillsides to makebeautiful the winter garden, and we stand in mute admiration when thesewhite birches reach from a snowbank and pencil their frosty traceryagainst a wall of hemlocks. 

This is the simple material that has been used with such wonderfuleffect. In the gardens hereabout they have flanked their alleys with thebirches, for even when fully grown their habit is more poplar-like thanspreading, and many plants, like lilies, requiring partial shadeflourish under them; while for fences and screens the trees are plantedin small groups, with either stones and ferns, or shrubs set thickbetween, and the most beautiful winter fence that Evan says he has everseen in all his wanderings amid costly beauty was when, last winter, inbeing here to measure for some plans, he came suddenly upon an informalboundary and screen combined, over fifty feet in length, made of whitebirches, --the groups of twos and threes set eight or ten feet apart, thegaps being filled by Japanese barberries laden with their scarlet fruit. Even now this same screen is beautiful enough with its shaded greens, while the barberries in their blooming time, and the crimson leaf glowof autumn, give it four distinct seasons. 

The branches of the white birch being small and thickly set, they may betrimmed at will, and windows thus opened here and there without the lookof artifice or stiffness. 

Fences are always a moot question to the gardener, for if she has apleasant neighbour, she does not like to raise an aggressive barrier orperhaps cut off the view, yet to a certain extent I like being walled inat least on two sides. A total lack of boundaries is tooimpersonal, --the eye travels on and on: there is nothing to rest it bycomparison. Also, where there are no fences or hedges, --and what arehedges but living fences, --there is nothing to break the ground draughtin winter and early springtime. The ocean is much more beautiful andfull of meaning when brought in contact with a slender bit of coast. Themoon has far more majesty when but distancing the tree-tops than whenrolling apparently at random through an empty sky. A vast estate maywell boast of wide sweeps and open places, but the same effect is notgained, present fashion to the contrary, by throwing down the barriersbetween a dozen homes occupying only half as many acres. Preferable isthe cosey English walled villa of the middle class, even though it be abit stuffy and suggestive of earwigs. The question should not be tofence or not to fence, but rather _how_ to fence usefully andartistically, and any one who has an old stone wall, such as you have, moss grown and tumble-down, with the beginnings of wildness alreadyachieved, has no excuse for failure. We have seen other fences herewhere bushes, wire, and vines all take part, but they cannot competewith an old wall. 

With ferns, a topic opens as long and broad and deep as the glen belowus, and of almost as uncertain climbing, for it is not so much whatferns may be dug up and, as individual plants, continue to grow in newsurroundings, but how much of their haunt may be transplanted with them, that the fern may keep its characteristics. Many people do not think ofthis, nor would they care if reminded. Water lilies, floating amongtheir pads in the still margin of a stream, with jewelled dragon-fliesdarting over, soft clouds above and the odour of wild grapes or swampazalea wafting from the banks, are no more to them than half a dozensuch lilies grown in a sunken tub or whitewashed basin in a backyard;rather are they less desirable because less easily controlled andencompassed. Such people, and they are not a few, belong to the tribe ofPeter Bell, who saw nothing more in the primrose by the river's brimthan that it was a primrose, and consequently yellow. Doubtless it wouldhave looked precisely the same to him, or even more yellow, if it hadbloomed in a tin can!

We do not treat our native ferns with sufficient respect. Homage is paidin literature to the palm, and it is an emblem of honour, but our NewEngland ferns, many of them equally majestic, are tossed into heaps forhay and mown down by the ruthless scythe of the farmer every autumn whenhe shows his greatest agricultural energy by stripping the waysides oftheir beauty prior to the coming of the roadmender with his awful"turn-piking" process. If, by the way, the automobilists succeed instopping this piking practice, we will print a nice little prayer forthem and send it to Saint Peter, so that, though it won't help them inthis world, --that would be dangerous, --it will by and by!

In the woods the farmer allows the ferns to stand, for are they not oneof the usual attributes of a picnic? Stuck in the horses' bridle, theykeep off flies; they serve to deck the tablecloth upon which the food isspread; gathered in armfuls, they somewhat ease the contact of therheumatic with the rocks, upon which they must often sit on suchoccasions. They provide the young folks with a motive to seek somethingfurther in the woods, and give the acquisitive ladies who "press things"much loot to take home, and all without cost. 

This may not be respectful treatment, but it is not martyrdom; the fernis a generous plant, a thing of wiry root-stock and prehistorictenacity; it has not forgotten that tree ferns are among its ancestors;when it is discouraged, it rests and grows again. But imagine thefeelings of a mat of exquisite maidenhair rent from a shady slope withmoss and partridge vine at its feet, and quivering elusive woodlandshade above, on finding itself unceremoniously crowded into a bed, between cannas or red geraniums! Or fancy the despair of either of thewide-spreading Osmundas, lovers of stream borders opulent withleaf-mould, or wood hollows deep with moist richness, on findingthemselves ranged in a row about the porch of a summer cottage, each onetied firmly to a stake like so many green parasols stuck in the dry loampoint downward!

It is not so much a question of how many species of native ferns can bedomesticated, for given sufficient time and patience all things arepossible, but how many varieties are either decorative, interesting, oruseful away from their native haunts. For any one taking what may becalled a botanical interest in ferns, a semi-artificial rockery, withone end in wet ground and the other reaching dry-wood conditions, isextremely interesting. In such a place, by obtaining some of the earthwith each specimen and tagging it carefully, an out-of-door herbariummay be formed and something added to it every time an excursion is madeinto a new region. Otherwise the ferns that are worth the trouble oftransplanting and supplying with soil akin to that from which theycame, are comparatively few. Of decorative species the Osmundas easilylead; being natives of swampy or at least moist ground, they should havea like situation, and yet so strong are their roots and crown of leavesthat they will flourish for years after the moisture that has fed themhas been drained and the shading overgrowth cut away, even thoughdwarfed in growth and coarsened in texture. Thus people seeing themgrowing under these conditions in open fields and roadside banks mistaketheir necessities. 

The Royal fern (_Osmunda regalis_) positively demands moisture; it willwaive the matter of shade in a great degree, but water it must have. 

The Cinnamon fern, that encloses the spongelike, brown, fertile frondsin the circle of green ones, gains its greatest size of five feet inroadside runnels or in springy places between boulders in the riverwoods; yet so accommodating is it that you can use it at the base ofyour knoll if a convenient rock promises both reasonable dampness andshelter. 

The third of the family (_Osmunda Claytonia_) is known as theInterrupted fern, because in May the fertile black leaflets appear inthe middle of the fronds and interrupt the even greenness. This fernwill thrive in merely moist soil and is very charming early in theseason, but like the other two, out of its haunts, cannot be reliedupon after August. 

As a fern for deep soil, where walking room can be allowed it, thecommon brake, or bracken (_Pteris aquilina_) is unsurpassed. It willgrow either in sandy woods or moist, and should have a certain amount ofhigh shade, else its broad fronds, held high above the groundumbrella-wise, will curl, grow coarse, and lose the fernlike qualityaltogether. You can plant this safely in the bit of old orchard that youare giving over to wild asters, black-eyed Susan, and sundrops, but mindyou, be sure to take both Larry and Barney, together with a longpost-hole spade, when you go out to dig brakes, --they are not things ofshallow superficial roots, I can assure you. 

A few years ago Evan, Timothy Saunders, and I went brake-hunting, Iselecting the groups and the menkind digging great solid turfs a foot ormore in depth, in order to be sure the things had native earth enoughalong to mother them into comfortable growth. Proudly we loaded the bigbox wagon, for we had taken so much black peat (as the soil happened tobe) that not a root hung below and success was certain. 

When, on reaching home, in unloading, one turf fell from the cart andcrumbled into fragments, to my dismay I found that the long, toughstalk ran quite through the clod and we had no roots at all, but that(if inanimate things can laugh) they were all laughing at us back in themeadow and probably another foot underground. Yet brakes are well worththe trouble of deep digging, for if once established, a waste bit, wherelittle else will flourish, is given a graceful undergrowth that is ableto stand erect even though the breeze plays with the little forest as itdoes with a field of grain. Then, too, the brake patch is a treasury tobe drawn from when arranging tall flowers like foxgloves, larkspurs, hollyhocks, and others that have little foliage of their own. 

The fact that the brake does not mature its seeds that lie under theleaf margin until late summer also insures it a long season ofsightliness, and when ripeness finally draws nigh, it comes in a seriesof beautiful mellow shades, varying from straw through deep gold torusset, such as the beech tree chooses for its autumn cloak. 

Another plant there is, a low-growing shrub, having long leaves withscalloped edges, giving a spicy odour when crushed or after rain, that Imust beg you to plant with these brakes. It is called Sweet-fern, merelyby courtesy, from its fernlike appearance, for it is of the bayberryfamily and first cousin to sweet gale and waxberry. 

The digging of this also is a process quite as elusive as mining forbrakes; but when once it sets foot in your orchard, and it will enjoythe drier places, you will have a liberal annex to your bed of sweetodours, and it may worthily join lemon balm, mignonette, southernwood, and lavender in the house, though in the garden it would be rather toopushing a companion. 

Next, both decorative and useful, comes the Silvery Spleenwort, that iscontent with shade and good soil of any sort, so long as it is not rankwith manure. It has a slender creeping root, but when it once takeshold, it flourishes mightily and after a year or so will wavesilver-lined fronds three feet long proudly before you, a rival ofOsmunda!

A sister spleenwort is the beautiful Lady fern, whose lacelike frondshave party-coloured stems, varying from straw through pink and reddishto brown, giving an unusual touch of life and warmth to one of the coolgreen fern tribe. In autumn the entire leaf of this fern, in dying, oftentimes takes these same hues; it is decorative when growing anduseful to blend with cut flowers. It naturally prefers woods, but willsettle down comfortably in the angle of a house or under a fence, andwill be a standby in your wall rockery. 

The ferns that seem really to prefer the open, one taking to dry and twoto moist ground, are the hay-scented fern (_Dicksonia punctilobula_), the New York fern (_Dryopteris Noveboracencis_), and the MarshShield-fern. Dicksonia has a pretty leaf of fretwork, and will growthree feet in length, though it is usually much shorter. It is the fernuniversal here with us, it makes great swales running out from woodedges to pastures, and it rivals the bayberry in covering hillsides; itwill grow in dense beds under tall laurels or rhododendrons, border yourwild walk, or make a setting of cheerful light green to the stone wall;while if cut for house decoration, it keeps in condition for severaldays and almost rivals the Maidenhair as a combination with sweet peasor roses. 

The New York fern, when of low stature, is one of the many bits ofgrowing carpet of rich cool woods. If it is grown in deep shade, theleaves become too long and spindling for beauty. When in moist ground, quite in the open, or in reflected shade, the fresh young leaves of afoot and under add great variety to the grass and are a perfect settingfor table decorations of small flowers. We have these ferns all throughthe dell. If they are mown down in June, July sees a fresh crop, andtheir spring green is held perpetual until frost. 

The Marsh Shield-fern of gentian meadows is the perfect small fern for abit of wet ground, and is the green to be used with all wild flowers oflike places. One day last autumn I had a bouquet of grass-of-Parnassus, ladies' tresses, and gentian massed thickly with these ferns, and theposey lived for days on the sunny window shelf of the den (for gentiansclose their eyes in shade), --a bit of the September marshland broughtindoors. 

The two Beech-ferns, the long and the broad, you may grow on the knoll;give the long the dampest spots, and place the broad where it is quitedry. As the rootstocks of both these are somewhat frail, I would adviseyou to peg them down with hairpins and cover well with earth. By theway, I always use wire hairpins to hold down creeping rootstocks ofevery kind; it keeps them from springing up and drying before therootlets have a chance to grasp the soil. 

The roots of Maidenhair should always be treated in this way, as theydry out very quickly. This most distinctive of our New England fernswill grow between the rocks of your knoll, as well as in deep nooks inthe fence. It seems to love rich side-hill woods and craves a rockbehind its back, and if you are only careful about the soil, you canhave miniature forests of it with little trouble. As for maidenhair, allits uses are beauty!

Give me a bouquet of perfect wild rosebuds within a deep fringe ofmaidenhair to set in a crystal jar where I may watch the deep pinkpetals unfold and show the golden stars within; let me breathe theirfirst breath of perfume, and you may keep all the greenhouse orchidsthat are grown. 

Though you can have a variety of ferns in other locations, those thatwill thrive best on the knoll and keep it ever green and in touch withlaurel and hemlock, are but five, --the Christmas fern, the MarginalShield-fern, the common Rock Polypody, the Ebony Spleenwort, and theSpinulose Wood-fern. Of the first pair it is impossible to have toomany. The Christmas fern, with its glistening leaves of holly green, hasa stout, creeping rootstock, which must be firmly secured, a few stonesbeing added temporarily to the hairpins to give weight. The EvergreenWood-fern and Ebony Spleenwort, having short rootstocks, can be tuckedinto sufficiently deep holes between rocks or in the hollows left bysmall decayed stumps, while the transplanting of the Rock Polypody is anact where luck, recklessness, and a pinch of magic must all be combined. 

You will find vast mats of these leathery little Polypodys growing withrock-selaginella on the great boulders of the river woods. As these areto be split up for masonry, the experiment of transferring the polypodyis no sin, though it savours somewhat of the process of skin-grafting. Evan and I have tried the experiment successfully, so that it is nofable. We had a bit of shady bank at home that proved by the mosses thatgrew on it that it was moistened from beneath the year through. Theprotecting shade was of tall hickories, and a rock ledge some twentyfeet high shielded it from the south and east. We scraped the moss froma circle of about six feet and loosened the surface of the earth only, and very carefully. Then we spread some moist leaf-mould on the roughbut flat surface of a partly exposed rock. Going to a near-by bit ofwoods that was being despoiled, as in your valley, we chose two greatmats of polypody and moss that had no piercing twigs to break thefabric, and carefully peeled them from the rocks, as you would bark froma tree, the matted rootstocks weaving all together. Moistening thesethoroughly, we wrapped them in a horse blanket and hurried home. Theearth and rock already prepared were sprinkled with water and the fernfabric applied and gently but firmly pressed down, that resting on theearth being held by the ever useful hairpin!

The rock graft was more difficult, but after many failures by way ofstones that rolled off, a coarse network of cords was put across andfastened to whatever twigs or roots came in the way. Naturally a periodof constant sprinkling followed, and for that season the rock graftseemed decidedly homesick, but the next spring resignation had set in, and two years later the polypodys had completely adopted the newlocation and were prepared to appropriate the whole of it. 

So you see that there are comparatively only a few ferns, after all, that are of great value to The Garden, You, and I, and likewise thereare but a few rules for their transplanting, viz. :--

Don't bother about the tops, for new ones will grow, but look to theroots, and do not let them be exposed to the air or become dry intravel. Examine the quality of soil from which you have taken the ferns, and if you have none like it nearer home, take some with you for astarter! Never dig up more on one day than you can plant during thenext, and above all remember that if a fern is worth tramping thecountryside for, it is worth careful planting, and that the moralremarks made about the care in setting out of roses apply with doubleforce to the handling of delicate wild flowers and ferns. 

Good luck to your knoll, Mary Penrose, and to your fern fence, if thatfancy pleases you. May the magic of fern seed fill your eyes and let yousee visions, the goodly things of heart's desire, when, all beingaccomplished, you pause and look at the work of your hands. 

 "And nimble fay and pranksome elf Flash vaguely past at every turn, Or, weird and wee, sits Puck himself, With legs akimbo, on a fern!"

X

FRANKNESS, --GARDENING AND OTHERWISE

(Mary Penrose to Barbara Campbell)

_July 15. _--_Midsummer Night. _ Since the month came in, vacation timehas been suspended, insomuch that Bart goes to the office every day, Saturdays excepted; but we have not returned to our indoor bedroom. Onceit seemed the definition of airy coolness, with its three wide windows, white matting, and muslin draperies, but now--I fully understand therelative feelings of a bird in a cage and a bird in the open. The airblows through the bars and the sun shines through them, but it is stilla cage. 

In these warm, still nights we take down the slat screens that hangbetween the hand-hewn chestnut beams of the old barn, and with the openrafters of what was a hay-loft above us, we look out of the door-framestraight up at the stars and sometimes drag our cots out on the widebank that tops the wall, overlooking the Opal Farm, and sleep whollyunder the sky. 

These two weeks past we have had the Infant with us at night, clad in alight woollen monkey-suit nighty with feet, her crib being, however, under cover. Her open-eyed wonder has been a new phase of the vacation. Knowing no fear, she has begun to develop a feeling of kinship with allthe small animals, not only of the barn but dwellers on Opal Farm aswell, and when she discovered a nest of small mice in an old tool-boxunder the eaves and proposed to take them, in their improvised house, toher very own room at the opposite end, this "room" being a square markedaround her bed by small flower-pots, set upside down, I protested, as amatter of course, saying that mice were not things to handle, andbesides they would die without their mother. 

The Infant, still clutching the box, looked at me in round-eyed wonder:"I had Dinah and the kittens to play with in the nursery, didn't I, mother?"

"Certainly!"

"And when Ann-stasia brought them up in her ap'n, Dinah walked behind, didn't she?"

"Yes, I think so!"

"Ver-r-y well, the mouse mother will walk behind too, and I love micebetter'n cats, for they have nicer hands; 'sides, mother, don't you knowwho mice really and truly are, and why they have to hide away? They arethe horses that fairlies drive, and I'm going to have these for thefairlies in my village!" making a sweep of her arm toward the encampmentof flower-pots; "if you want fairlies to stay close beside your bed, youmust give them horses to drive, 'cause when it gets cold weather cobwebsgets too sharp for them to ride on and there isn't always fireflies 'ncandle worms to show 'em the way, --'n it's true, 'cause Larry says so!"she added, probably seeing the look of incredulity on my face. 

"Larry knows fairlies and they're really trulies; if you're bad to them, you'll see the road and it won't be there, and so you'll get intoHen'sy's bog! Larry did, --and if you make houses for them like mine(pointing to the flower-pots) and give 'em drinks of milk and flowerwine, they'll bring you _lots_ of childrens! They did to Larry, so I'mtrying to please 'em wif my houses, so's to have some to play wif!"

Larry's harmless folklore (for when he is quite himself, as he is inthese days, he has a certain refinement and an endless fund ofmarvellous legends and stories), birds and little beasts for friends, dolls cut from paper with pansies fastened on for faces, morning-gloriesfor cups in which to give the fairies drink, what could make a moreblissful childhood for our little maid? That is the everlasting pity ofa city childhood. Creature comforts may be had and human friends, butwhere is the vista that reaches under the trees and through the longmeadow-grass where the red-gold lily bells tinkle, up the brook bed tothe great flat mossy rock, beneath which is the door to fairyland, thespotted turtle being warder. Fairyland, the country of eternal youth andpossibility!

I wouldn't give up the fairies that I once knew and peopled the solemnwoods with down in grandfather's Virginia home for a fortune, and evennow, any day, I can put my ear to the earth, like Tommy-Anne, and hearthe grass grow. It occurred to me yesterday that the Infant, in age, temperament, and heredity, is suited to be a companion for your Richard. Could you not bring him down with you before the summer is over? Though, as the unlike sometimes agree best, Ian and she might be morecompatible, so bring them both and we will turn the trio loose in themeadows of Opal Farm with a mite of a Shetland pony that _The Man fromEverywhere_ has recently bestowed upon the Infant--crazy, extravagantman! What we shall do with it in winter I do not know, as we cannot yetrun into the expense of keeping such live stock. But why bother? it isonly midsummer now, grazing is plentiful and seems to suit the needs ofthis spunky little beast, and the Infant riding him "across country, " asBart calls her wanderings about Opal Farm, is a spectacle too pretty tobe denied us. Yes, I know I'm silly, and that you have the twins torhapsodize about, but girls are so much more picturesque in the clothes!What! thought she wore gingham bloomers! Yes, but not all the time, forMaria will frill her up and run her with ribbons of afternoons!

 * * * * *

Back to the house and garden! I'm wandering, but then I'm Lady Lazy thissummer, as _The Man from Everywhere_ calls me, and naturally a bitinconsequent! As I said, Bart is at the office daily, and will be foranother week, but Lady Lazy has not returned to what Maria Maxwell calls"The Tyranny of the Three M's, "--the mending basket, the market book, and the money-box! I was willing, quite willing; in fact it is only fairthat Maria should have her time of irresponsibility, for I know that shehas half a dozen invitations to go to pleasant places and meet people, one being from Lavinia Cortright to visit her shore cottage. I'm alwayshoping that Maria may meet the "right man" some summer day, but that shesurely will never do if she stays here. 

"I've everything systematized, and it's easier for me to go on thandrop the needles for a fortnight or so and then find, on coming back, that you have been knitting a mitten when I had started the frame of asock, " Maria said, laughing; "make flower hay while the crop is to behad for the gathering, my lady! Another year you may not have such freehands!"

Then my protests grew weaker and weaker, for the establishment hadthriven marvellously well without my daily interference. The jam closetshows rows of everything that might be made of strawberries, cherries, currants, and raspberries, and it suddenly struck me that possibly ifdomestic machinery is set going on a consistent basis, whether it is nota mistake to do too much oiling and tightening of a screw here andthere, unless distinct symptoms of a halt render it absolutelynecessary. 

"Very well, " I said, with a show of spunk, "give me one single task, that I may not feel as if I had no part in the homemaking. Something asornamental and frivolous as you choose, but that shall occupy me atleast two hours a day!"

Maria paused a moment; we were then standing in front of the fireplace, where a jar of bayberry filled the place of logs between the andirons. First, casting her eyes through the doors of dining room, living room, and den, she fixed them on me with rather a mischievous twinkle, as shesaid, "You shall gather and arrange the flowers for the house; andalways have plenty of them, but never a withered or dropsical blossomamong them all. You shall also invent new ways for arranging them, newcombinations, new effects, the only restriction being that you shall notput vases where the water will drip on books, or make the house looklike the show window of a wholesale florist. I will give you a freshmop, and you can have the back porch and table for your workshop, and ifI'm not mistaken, you will find two hours a day little enough for thework!" she added with very much the air of some one engaging a newhousemaid and presenting her with a broom!

It has never taken me two hours to gather and arrange the flowers, andthough of course we are only beginning to have much of a garden, we'vealways had flowers in the house, --quantities of sweet peas and suchthings, besides wild flowers. I began to protest, an injured feelingrising in my throat, that she, Maria Maxwell, music teacher, city boundfor ten years, should think to instruct _me_ of recent outdoorexperience. 

"Yes, you've always had flowers, but did you pick the sweet peas or didBarney? Did you cram them haphazard into the first thing that came handy(probably that awful bowl decorated in ten discordant colours andevidently a wedding present, for such atrocities never find any othermedium of circulation)? Or did you separate them nicely, and arrange thepink and salmon peas with the lavender in that plain-coloured Sevresvase that is unusually accommodating in the matter of water, thenputting the gay colours in the blue-and-white Delft bowl and the dullerones in cut glass to give them life? Having plenty, did you change themevery other day, or the moment the water began to look milky, or did youleave them until the flowers clung together in the first stages ofmould? Meanwhile, the ungathered flowers on the vines were seriouslydeveloping peas and shortening their stems to be better able to beartheir weight. And, Mary Penrose, "--here Maria positively glared at me asif I had been a primary pupil in the most undesirable school of herroute who was both stone deaf and afflicted with catarrh, "did you washout your jars and vases with a mop every time you changed the flowers, and wipe them on a towel separate from the ones used for the pantryglass? No, you never did! You tipped the water out over there at the endof the piazza by the honeysuckles, because you couldn't quite bringyourself to pouring it down the pantry sink, refilled the vases, andthat was all!"

In spite of a certain sense of annoyance that I felt at the way in whichMaria was giving me a lecture, and somehow when a person has taught forten years she (particularly _she_) inevitably acquires a ratherunpleasant way of imparting the truth that makes one wish to deny it, Istood convicted in my own eyes as well as in Maria's. It had so oftenhappened that when either Barney had brought in the sweet peas and leftthem on the porch table, or Bart had gathered a particularly beautifulwild bouquet in one of his tramps, I had lingered over a book or somebit of work upstairs until almost the time for the next meal, and then, seeing the half-withered look of reproach that flowers wear when theyhave been long out of water, I have jammed them helter-skelter into thefirst receptacle at hand. 

Sometimes a little rough verbal handling stirs up the blood under atoo-complacent cuticle. Maria's preachment did me good, the moreprobably because the time was ripe for it, and therefore the past twoweeks have been filled with new pleasures, for another thing that themonth spent in the open has shown me is the wonderful setting thenatural environment and foliage gives to a flower. At first thecompleteness appeals insensibly, and unless one is of the temperamentthat seeks the cause behind the effect, it might never be realized. 

The Japanese have long since arrived at a method of arranging flowerswhich is quality and intrinsic value as opposed to miscellaneousquantity. The way of nature, however, it seems to me, is twofold, forthere are flowers that depend for beauty, and this with nature thatseems only another word for perpetuity, upon the strength of numbers, aswell as those that make a more individual appeal. The compositeflowers--daisies, asters, goldenrod--belong to the class that takenaturally to massing, while the blue flag, meadow and wood lilies, together with the spiked orchises, are typical of the second. 

By the same process of comparison I have decided that jars and vaseshaving floral decorations themselves are wholly unsuitable for holdingflowers. They should be cherished as bric-a-brac, when they are worthyspecimens of the art of potter and painter, but as receptacles forflowers they have no use beyond holding sprays of beautiful foliage orsilver-green masses of ferns. 

Porcelain, plain in tint and of carefully chosen colours, such asbeef-blood, the old rose, and peach-blow hues, in which so many simpleforms and inexpensive bits of Japanese pottery may be bought, a peculiarcreamy yellow, a dull green, gobelin, and Delft blue and white, sacredto the jugs and bowls of our grandmothers, all do well. Cut glass is afine setting for flowers of strong colour, but kills the paler hues, andabove and beyond all is the dark moss-green glass of substantial texturethat is fashioned in an endless variety of shapes. By chance, gift, andpurchase we have gathered about a dozen pieces of this, ranging from acylinder almost the size of an umbrella-stand down through fluted, hat-shaped dishes, for roses or sweet peas, to some little troughs ofconventional shapes in which pansies or other short-stemmed flowers maybe arranged so as to give the look of an old-fashioned parterre to thedining table. 

I had always found these useful, but never quite realized to the fullthat green or brown is the only consistent undercolour for all field andgrass-growing flowers until this summer. But during days that I havespent browsing in the river woods, while Bart and Barney, and morerecently Larry, have been digging the herbs that we have marked, I haverealized the necessity of a certain combination of earth, bark, anddead-leaf browns in the receptacles for holding wood flowers and thevines that in their natural ascent clasp and cling to the trunks andlimbs of trees. 

Several years ago mother sent me some pretty flower-holders made ofbamboos of different lengths, intended evidently to hang againstdoor-jambs or in hallways. The pith was hollowed out here and there, andthe hole plugged from beneath to make little water pockets. These didadmirably for a season, but when the wood dried, it invariably split, and treacherous dripping followed, most ruinous to furniture. 

A few weeks back, when looking at some mossed and gnarled branches inthe woods, an idea occurred to Bart and me at the same moment. Why couldwe not use such pieces as these, together with some trunks of yourbeloved white birch, to which I, _via_ the screen at Opal Farm, wasbecoming insensibly devoted at the very time that you wrote me?

Augur holes could be bored in them at various distances and angles, ifnot too acute; the thing was to find glass, in bottle or other forms, tofit in the openings. This difficulty was solved by _The Man fromEverywhere_ on his reappearance the night before the Fourth, after anabsence of a whole week, laden with every manner of noise and firemaking arrangement for the Infant, though I presently found that Barthad partly instigated the outfit, and the two overgrown boys revelled infire-balloons and rockets under cover of the Infant's enthusiasm, muchas the grandpa goes to the circus as an apparent martyr to littleTommy's desire! A large package that, from the extreme care of itshandling, I judged must hold something highly explosive, on being openeddivulged many dozens of the slender glass tubes, with a slight lip forholding cord or wire, such as, filled with roses or orchids, are hung inthe garlands of asparagus vines and smilax in floral decorations ofeither houses or florists' windows. These tubes varied in length fromfour to six inches, the larger being three inches in diameter. 

"Behold your leak-proof interiors!" he cried, holding one up. "Now setyour wits and Bart's tool-box to work and we shall have some speedyresults!"

Dear _Man from Everywhere_, he had bought a gross of the glasses, thereby reminding me of a generous but eccentric great-uncle of ours whohad a passion for attending auctions, and once, by error, in buying, ashe supposed, twelve yellow earthenware bowls, found himself confrontedby twelve _dozen_. Thus grandmother's storeroom literally had a goldenlining, and my entire childhood was pervaded with these bowls, severalfinally falling into my possession for the mixing of mud pies! Butbetween the durability of yellow bowls and blown-glass tubes there islittle parallel, and already I have found the advantage of having a goodsupply in stock. 

Our first natural flower-holder is a great success. Having found afour-pronged silver birch, with a broken top, over in the abandonedgravel-pit (where, by the way, are a score of others to be had for thedigging, and such easy digging too), Larry sawed it off a bit below theground, so as to give it an even base. The diameter of the four uprightswas not quite a foot, all told, and these were sawn of unequal lengthsof four, six, seven, and nine inches, care being taken not to "haggle, "as Larry calls it, the clean white bark in the process. 

Then Bart went to work with augur and round chisel, and bored andchipped out the holes for the glass tubes, incidentally breaking twoglasses before we had comfortably settled the four, for they must fitsnugly enough not to wiggle and tip, and yet not so tight as to bind andprevent removal for cleaning purposes. This little stand of natural woodwas no sooner finished and mounted on the camp table than itspossibilities began to crowd around it. Ferns being the nearest at hand, I crawled over the crumbling bank wall into the Opal Farm meadow andgathered hay-scented, wood, and lady ferns from along the fence line andgrouped them loosely in the stand. The effect was magical, a bit of itshaunt following the fern indoors. 

Next day I gathered in the hemlock woods a basket of the waxy, spotted-leaved pipsissewa, together with spikes and garlands of clubmoss. I had thought these perfect when steadied by bog moss in a flat, cut-glass dish, but in the birch stump they were entirely at home. Ifthese midsummer wood flowers harmonize so well, how much more charmingwill be the blossoms of early spring, a season when the white birch isquite the most conspicuous tree in the landscape! Picture dog-toothviolets, spring beauties, bellwort, Quaker-ladies, and great tufts ofviolets, shading from white to deepest blue, in such a setting! Or, ofgarden things, poets' narcissus and lilies-of-the-valley!

Other receptacles of a like kind we have in different stages ofprogress, made of the wood of sassafras, oak, beech, and hackberry, together with several irregular stumps of lichen-covered cedar. Two longlimbs with several short side branches Bart has flattened on the backand arranged with picture-hooks, so that they can be bracketed againstthe frame of the living-room door, opposite the flower-greeting tablethat I have fashioned after yours. These are to be used for vines, and Ishall try to keep this wide, open portal cheerfully garlanded. 

The first week of my flower wardenship was a most strenuous one. I usethe word reluctantly, but having tried half a dozen others, noequivalent seemed to fit. I had flowers in every room in the house, bedchambers included, using in this connection the cleanest-breathed andlongest-lived blossoms possible. 

Late as was the sowing, the annuals remaining in the seed bed have begunto yield a glorious crop. The fireplaces were filled with black-eyedSusans from the fields and hollyhocks from an old self-seeded colony atOpal Farm, and every available vase, bowl, and pitcher had something init. How I laboured! I washed jars, sorted colours, and freshened stillpassable arrangements of the day before, and all the while I felt surethat Maria was watching me, with an amused twinkle in the tail of hereye!

One day, the middle of last week, the temperature dropped suddenly, andwe fled from camp to the house for twenty-four hours, lighted the logsin the hall, and actually settled down to a serious game of whist in theevening, Maria Maxwell, _The Man_, Bart, and I. Yes, I know how youdetest the game, but I--though I am not exactly amused by it--ratherlike it, for it gives occupation at once for the hands and thoughts anda cover for studying the faces and moods of friends without the reproachof staring. 

By the way, _The Man_ has hired half the house from Amos Opie--it wasdivided several years ago--and established helter-skelter bachelorquarters at Opal Farm. Bart has told him, over and over again, howwelcome he is to stay here, under any and all conditions, while he worksin the vicinity, but he says that he needs a lot of room for his traps, muddy boots, etc. , while Opie, a curious Jack-at-all-trades, gives himhis breakfast. I'm wondering if _The Man_ felt that he was intrudingupon Maria by staying here, or if she has any Mrs. Grundy ideas and washumpy to him, or even suggested that he would better move up the road. She is quite capable of it!

However, he seems glad enough to drop in to dinner of an evening now, and the two are so delightfully cordial and unembarrassed in their talk, neither yielding a jot to the other, in the resolute spinster andbachelor fashion, that I must conclude that his going was probably anatural happening. 

This evening, while Maria and I were waiting together for the men tofinish toying with their coffee cups and match-boxes and emergerefreshed from the delightful indolence of the after-dinner smoke, theodour of the flowers--intensified both by dampness and thewoodsmoke--was very manifest. 

"How do you like your employment?" asked Maria. 

"I like the decorative and inventive part of it, " I said, thinking intothe fire, "but I believe"--and here I hesitated as a chain of peculiargreen flame curled about the log and held my attention. "That it isquite as possible to overdo the house decoration with flowers as it isto spoil a nice bit of lawn with too many fantastic flower beds!" Bartbroke in quite unexpectedly, coming behind me and raising my face, onehand beneath my chin. "Isn't that what you were thinking, my Lady Lazy?"

"Truly it was, only I never meant to let it pop out so suddenly andrudely, " I was forced to confess. "In one way it would seem impossibleto have too many flowers about, and yet in another it is unnatural, forare not nature's unconscious effects made by using colour as a centralpoint, a focus that draws the eye from a more sombre and soothingsetting?"

"How could we enjoy a sunset that held the whole circle of the horizonat once?" chimed in _The Man_, suddenly, as if reading my thoughts. "Ortwelve moons?" added Bart, laughing. 

No, Mrs. Evan, I am convinced by so short a trial as two weeks that theart of arranging flowers for the house is first, your plan of havingsome to greet the guest as he enters, a bit of colour or coolness ineach room where we pause to read or work or chat, and a tablegarnishing to render æsthetic the aspect and surroundings of the humananimal at his feeding time; otherwise, except at special seasons offestivity, a surplus of flowers in the house makes for restlessness, notpeace. Two days ago I had thirty-odd vases and jars filled with flowers, and I felt, as I sat down to sew, as if I was trespassing in a bazaar!Also, if there are too many jars of various flowers in one room, it isimpossible that each should have its own individuality. 

To-day I began my new plan. I put away a part of my jars and vases anddeliberately thought out what flowers I would use before gathering them. 

The day being overcast though not threatening, merely the trail, as itwere, of the storm that had passed, and the den being on the north sideof the house and finished in dark woodwork and furniture, I gatherednasturtiums in three shades for it, the deep crimson, orange-scarlet, and canary-yellow, but not too many--a blue-and-white jar of the Chinese"ginger" pattern for one corner of the mantel-shelf, and for theJapanese well buckets, that are suspended from the central hanging lampby cords, a cascade of blossoms of the same colour still attached totheir own fleshy vines and interspersed with the foliage. Strange as itmay seem, this little bit of pottery, though of a peculiar deep pink, harmonizes wonderfully well with the barbaric nasturtium colours. Thereseems to be a kind of magic blended with the form and colour of thesebuckets, plain and severe in shape, that swing so gracefully from theirsilken cords, for they give grace to every flower that touches them. When filled with stiff stalks of lilies-of-the-valley or tulips, theyhave an equally distinguished air as when hung with the bells ofcolumbines or garlands of flowering honeysuckles twisted about the cordsclimbing quite up to the lamp. 

In the hall I placed my tallest green-glass jar upon the greeting tableand filled it with long stalks of red and gold Canada lilies from thevery bottom of Amos Opie's field, where the damp meadow-grass begins tomake way for tussocks and the marshy ground begins. 

The field now is as beautiful as a dream; the early grasses haveripened, and above them, literally by the hundreds, --rank, file, regiment, and platoon, --stand these lilies, some stalks holding twentybells, ranged as regularly as if the will of man had set them there, andyet poised so gracefully that we know at once that no human touch hasplaced them. I wish that you could have stood with me in the doorway ofthe camp and looked across that field this morning. Bart declared thesight to be the first extra dividend upon our payment to Amos Opie forleaving the grass uncut. 

I left the stalks of the lilies full three feet long and used only theirown foliage, together with some broad-leaved grasses, to break the tooabrupt edge of the glass. This is a point that must be remembered inarranging flowers, the keeping the relative height and habit of theplant in the mind's eye. These lilies, gathered with short stems andmassed in a crowded bunch, at once lose their individuality and becomemere little freckled yellow gamins of the flower world. 

A rather slender jar or vase also gives an added sense of height;long-stemmed flowers should never be put in a flat receptacle, no matterhow adroitly they may be held in place. Only last month I was calledupon to admire a fine array of long-stemmed roses that were held in aflat dish by being stuck in wet sand, and even though this was coveredby green moss, the whole thing had a painfully artificial and embalmedlook, impossible to overcome. 

For the living room, which is in quiet green tones andchintz-upholstered wicker furniture, I gathered Shirley poppies. Theyare not as large and perfectly developed as those I once saw in yourgarden from fall-sown seed, but they are so delicately tinted and thepetals so gracefully winged that it seemed like picking handfuls ofbutterflies. 

Maria Maxwell has shown me how, by looking at the stamens, I can tell ifthe flower is newly opened, for by picking only such they will last twofull days. How lasting are youthful impressions! She remembers all thesethings, though she has had no very own garden these ten years and more. Will the Infant remember creeping into my cot in these summer mornings, cuddling and being crooned to like a veritable nestling, until herfather gains sufficient consciousness to take his turn and delight herby the whistled imitation of a few simple bird songs? Yes, I think so, and I would rather give her this sort of safeguard to keep off harmfulthoughts and influences than any worldly wisdom. 

The poppies I arranged in my smallest frosted-white and cut-glass vasesin two rows on the mantel-shelf, before the quaint old oblong mirror, making it look like a miniature shrine. Celia Thaxter had this way ofusing them, if I remember rightly, the reflection in the glass doublingthe beauty and making the frail things seem alive!

For the library, where oak and blue are the prevailing tints, I filled asilver tankard with a big bunch of blue cornflowers, encircled by theleaves of "dusty miller, " and placed it on the desk. 

The dining-room walls are of deep dark red that must be kept cool insummer. At all seasons I try to have the table decorations low enoughnot to oblige us to peer at one another through a green mist, and to-dayI made a wreath of hay-scented ferns and ruby-spotted Japan lilies(_Speciosum rubrum_, the tag says--they were sent as extras with myseeds), by combining two half-moon dishes, and in the middle set aslender, finely cut, flaring vase holding two perfect stems, eachbearing half a dozen lily buds and blossoms. These random bulbs are thefirst lilies of my own planting. There are a few stalks of the whiteMadonna lilies in the grass of the old garden and a colony of tigerlilies and an upright red lily with different sort of leaves, allclustered at the root, following the tumble-down wall, the rockery tobe. I am fascinated by these Japanese lilies and desire more, each stalkis so sturdy, each flower so beautifully finished and set with jewelsand then powdered with gold, as it were. Pray tell me something aboutthe rest of the family! Do they come within my range and pocket, thinkyou? The first cost of a fair-sized bed would be considerable, but ifthey are things that by care will endure, it is something to save upfor, _when the rose bed is completed_--take note of that!

When Bart came home this afternoon, he walked through the rooms beforegoing out and commented on the different flowers, entirely simple inarrangement, and lingered over them, touching and taking pleasure inthem in a way wholly different from last week, when each room was ajungle and I was fairly suffering from flower surfeit. 

Now I find myself taking note of happy combinations of colour in otherpeople's gardens and along the highways for further experiments. I seemto remember looking over a list of flower combinations and suggestionsin your garden book. Will you lend it to me?

By the way, opal effects seem to circle about the place this season--thesunsets, the farm-house windows, and finally that rainy night when wewere playing whist, when _The Man_, taking a pencil from his pocket, pulled out a little chamois bag that, being loose at one end, shed ashower of the unset stones upon the green cloth, where they lay winkingand blinking like so many fiery coals. 

"Are you a travelling jeweler's shop?" quizzed Bart. 

"No, " replied _The Man_, watching the stones where they lay, but notattempting to pick them up; "the opal is my birth stone, and I'vealways had a fancy for picking them up at odd times and carrying themwith me for luck!"

"I thought that they are considered unlucky, " said Maria, holding one inthe palm of her hand and watching the light play upon it. 

"That is as one reads them, " said _The Man_; "to me they areoccasionally contradictory, that is all; otherwise they representadaptation to circumstances, and inexpensive beauty, which must alwaysbe a consolation. "

Then he gave us each one, "to start a collection, " he said. I shall havemine set as a talisman for the Infant. I like this new interpretation ofthe stone, for to divine beauty in simple things is a gift equal togenius. 

Maria, however, insisted upon giving an old-fashioned threepenny bit, kept as a luck penny in the centre of her purse, in exchange. How canany woman be so devoid of even the little sentiment of gifts as she is?

A moment later _The Man from Everywhere_ electrified us by saying, inthe most casual manner, "Now that we are on the subject of opals, did Itell you that, being in some strange manner drawn to the place, I havemade Opie an offer for the Opal Farm?"

"Good enough! but what for?" exclaimed Bart, nearly exposing a verypoor hand. 

"How splendid!" I cried, checking an impulse to throw my arms around hisneck so suddenly that I shied my cards across the room--"Then the meadowneed never be cut again!"

"What a preposterous idea! Did he accept the offer?" jerked MariaMaxwell, with a certain eagerness. 

_The Man's_ face, already of a healthy outdoor hue, took a deeper colourabove the outline of his closely cropped black beard, which he declinedto shave, in spite of prevailing custom. 

"I'm afraid my popularity as a neighbour is a minor quality, when evenmy Lady Lazy makes it evident that her enthusiasm is for meadow weedsand not myself!"

"When would you live there?" asked practical Bart. 

"All the time, when I'm not elsewhere!" said _The Man_. "No, seriously, I want permanent headquarters, a house to keep my traps in, and it caneasily be somewhat remodelled and made comfortable. I want to own aresting-place for the soles of my feet when they are tired, and is itstrange that I should pitch my tent near two good friends?"

It was a good deal for _The Man_ to say, and instantly there washand-shaking and back-clapping between Bart and himself, and the gamebecame hopelessly mixed. 

As for Maria, she as nearly sniffed audibly at the idea as a well-bredwoman could. It is strange, I had almost fancied during the course ofthe past month, and especially this evening, that _The Man's_ glance, when toward her, held a special approval of a different variety than itcarried to Bart and me! If Maria is going to worry him, she shall goback to her flat! I've often heard Bart say that men's feelings are verywoundable at forty, while at twenty-five a hurt closes up like waterafter a pebble has been dropped in it. 

 * * * * *

Yes, Maria _has_ been rude to _The Man_, and in my house, too, where sherepresents me! Anastasia told me! I suppose I really ought not to havelistened, but it was all over before I realized what she was saying. 

"Yes, mem, for all Miss Marie do be fixed out, so tasty and pleasantlike to everybody, and so much chicked up by the country air, she's nonotion o' beaus or of troubling wid the men!"

"What do you mean, Anastasia?" said I, in perfect innocence. "Of courseMiss Maria is not a young girl to go gadding about!"

"It's not gadding I mean, mem, but here on the porch, one foine night, jest before the last time Mister Blake went off fer good, they was satthere some toime, so still that, says I to meself, 'When they do foindspach, it'll be something worth hearing!'

"'Do I annoy you by staying here? Would you prefer I went elsewhere?'says he, and well I moind the words, for Oi thought an offer was on theroad, and as 'twas the nearest I'd been to wan, small wonder I gotexcoited! Then Miss Marie spoke up, smooth as a knife cutting icecream, --'To speak frankly, ' says she, 'you do not exactly annoy me, butI'd much rather you went elsewhere!' Och, but it broke me heart, thesound of it!"

 * * * * *

LIST OF FLOWER COMBINATIONS FOR THE TABLE FROM BARBARA'S _GARDEN BOKE_

HEAVILY SCENTED FLOWERS, SUCH AS HYACINTHS, LEMON AND AURATUM LILIES, POLYANTHUS NARCISSUS, MAGNOLIAS, LILACS, AND THE LIKE, SHOULD BEAVOIDED. 

 Snowdrops and pussy-willows. Hepaticas and moss. Spice-bush and shad-bush sprays. Trailing arbutus and sweet, white garden violets. Double daffodils and willow sprays. Crocus buds and moss. Blue garden scillas and wild white saxifrage. Black-birch catkins and wind-flowers. Plants of the various wild violets, according to season, arranged in an earthen pan with a moss or bark covering. Old-fashioned myrtle, with its glossy leaves, and single narcissus, or English primroses. Bleeding-heart and young ferns. English border primroses in small rose bowls. Lilies-of-the-valley, with plenty of their own leaves, and poets' narcissus. Tulip-tree flowers and leaves. The wild red-and-gold columbine with young white-birch sprays. Pinxter flower and the New York or wood fern. Jack-in-the-pulpit with its own leaves, in a bark or moss covered jar. Pink moccasin-flowers with ferns, in bark-covered jar. Pansies with ivy or laurel leaves, arranged in narrow dishes to form a parterre about a central mirror. Iceland poppies with small ferns or grasses. May pinks and forget-me-nots. Blue larkspurs and deutzia (always put white with blue flowers). Peonies with evergreen ferns, in a central jar. Sweet-william, arranged in separate colours for parterre effect or in a large blue-and-white bowl, with graceful sprays of honeysuckle flowers. Wild roses with plenty of buds and foliage, in blue-and-white bowls. Roses in large sprays with branches of the young leaves of copper beech--or masses of Chinese honeysuckle. Roses with short stems arranged with their own or _rugosa_ foliage in blue-and-white dishes that have coarse wire netting fitted to the top to keep the flowers in place. White field daisies, clover, and flowering grasses, in a large bowl or jar. Mountain laurel with its own leaves, in central jar and parterre dishes. Nasturtiums, in cut-glass bowl or vase, with the foliage of lemon verbena. Sweet peas of five colours with a fringe of maiden-hair ferns, the deepest colour in a central jar, with other smaller bowls at corners, and small ferns laid around mirror and on cloth between. Japan lilies, single flowers, in parterre dishes with ivy leaves, and sprays in central vase. Balsams arranged in effect of set borders. Asters in separate colours. Spotted-leaved pipsissewa of the woods with fern border, in bark-covered dish. Red and gold bell meadow lilies, in large jar, with field grasses. Gladioli--the flowers separated from the stalks and arranged with various leaves for parterre effect, or stalks laid upon the cloth with evergreen ferns to separate the places at a formal meal. Sweet sultan, in separate colours, in rose bowls, with fragrant geranium or lemon-verbena foliage. Shirly poppies with grasses or green rye, in four slender vases about a larger centrepiece. Margaret or picotee carnations with mignonette, arranged loosely in a cut-glass vase or bowl. Green rye, wheat, or oats with the blue garden cornflower--or wild blue chickory. Wild asters with heavy tasselled marsh-grasses. Goldenrods with purple iron weed and vines of wild white clematis, arranged about a flat dish of peaches and pears. All through autumn place your central mirror on a mat made by laying freshly gathered coloured leaves upon the cloth. Wallflowers and late pansies. White Japanese anemonies and ferns. Grass of Parnassus, ladies tresses, and marsh shield ferns. Garden chrysanthemums, in blue-and-white jars and bowls, on a large mat of brown magnolia leaves. Sprays of yellow witch-hazel flowers and leaves of red oak. Sprays of coral winterberry, from which leaves have been removed, and white-pine tassels. Club-mosses, small evergreen ferns, and partridge vine with its red berries, in a bark-covered dish of earth. 

XI

A SEASIDE GARDEN

(Barbara Campbell to Mary Penrose)

_Gray Rocks, July 19. _ Your epistle upon the evils of an excess offlowers in the house found us here with the Cortrights and Bradfords, and I read it with Lavinia and Sylvia on either side, as the theme hadmany notes in it familiar to us all! There are certainly times andseasons when the impulse is overpowering to lay hold of every flowerthat comes in the way and gather it to one's self, to cram everypossible nook and corner with this portable form of beauty and fairlyindulge in a flower orgie. Then sets in a reaction that shows, as in somany things, the middle path is the best for every day. Also there aremany enthusiastic gardeners, both among those who grow their own flowersand those who cause them to be grown, who spare neither pains nor moneyuntil the flowers are gathered; then their grip relaxes, and the housearrangement of the fruit of their labour is left to chance. 

In many cases, where a professional gardener is in charge, severalbaskets, containing a confused mass of blossoms, are deposited daily inporch or pantry, often at a time when the mistress is busy, and they areeither overlooked or at the last moment crammed into the firstreceptacle that comes to hand, from their very inopportuneness creatingalmost a feeling of dislike. 

When once lodged, they are frequently left to their fate until theybecome fairly noisome, for is there anything more offensive to æsthetictaste than blackened and decaying flowers soaking in stagnant water?

Was it not Auerbach, in his _Poet and Merchant_, who said, "The loveliera thing is in its perfection, the more terrible it becomes through itscorruption"? and certainly this applies to flowers. 

Flowers, like all of the best and lasting pleasures, must be taken alittle seriously from the sowing of the seed to the placing in the vase, that they may become the incense of home, and the most satisfactory wayof choosing them for this use is to make a daily tour about the garden, or, if a change is desired, through the fields and highways, and, withthe particular nook you wish to fill in mind, gather them yourself. 

Even the woman with too wide a selection to gather from personally canin this way indicate what she wishes. 

In the vegetable garden the wise man thinks out his crop and arranges avariety for the table; no one wishes every vegetable known to the seasonevery day, and why should not the eye be educated and nourished by anequal variety?

We are all very much interested in your flower-holders of natural wood, and I will offer you an idea in exchange, after the truly coöperativeGarden, You, and I plan. In the flower season, instead of using yourembroidered centrepieces for the table, which become easily stained anddefaced by having flowers laid upon them, make several artistic tablecentres of looking-glass, bark, moss, or a combination of all three. 

Lavinia Cortright and I, as a beginning, have oval mirrors of abouteighteen inches in length, with invisibly narrow nickel bindings. Sometimes we use these with merely an edge of flowers or leaves and acrystal basket or other low arrangement of flowers in the centre. Theglass is only a beginning, other combinations being a birch-bark mat, several inches wider than the glass, that may be used under it so that awide border shows, or the mat by itself as a background for delicatewood flowers and ferns. A third mat I have made of stout cardboard andcovered with lichens, reindeer moss, and bits of mossy bark, and I nevergo to the woods but what I see a score of things that fairly thrustthemselves before me and offer to blend with one of these backgrounds, and by holding the eye help to render meal-times less "foody, " as SukeyLatham puts it, though none the less nourishing. 

Last night when we gathered at dinner, a few moments after our arrivaland our first meeting at this cottage, I at once became aware thatthough host and hostess were the same delightful couple, we were notdining at Meadow's End, their Oaklands cottage, but at Gray Rocks, withsilver sea instead of green grass below the windows. While the seasurroundings were brought indoors and on the centre of the dinner tablethe mirror was edged by a border of sea-sand, glistening pebbles andlittle shells were arranged as a background instead of mosses andlichens, and rich brown seaweeds still moist with the astringent tonicsea breath edged this frame, and the more delicate rose-coloured andpale green weeds seemed floating upon the glass, that held a giantperiwinkle shell filled with the pink star-shaped sabbatia, or sea pink, of the near-by salt marshes. There was no effort, no strain aftereffect, but a consistent preparation of the eye for the simple meal ofsea food that followed. 

In front of the cottage the rocks slope quickly to the beach, but oneither side there is a stretch of sand pocketed among the rocks, and inthe back a dune stops abruptly at the margin of wide salt meadows, creek-fed and unctuous, as befits the natural gardens of the sea. 

The other cottages lying to the eastward are gay in red-and-whitestriped awnings, and porch and window boxes painted red or green arefilled with geraniums, nasturtiums, petunias, --any flowers, in short, that will thrive in the broiling sun, while some of the owners haveplanted buoy-like barrels at the four corners of their enclosures andfilled them with the same assortment of foliage plants with which theywould decorate a village lawn. This use of flowers seemed at once todraw the coolness from the easterly breeze and intensify the heat thatvibrates from the sand. 

Have you ever noticed that the sea in these latitudes has no affinityfor the brightest colours, save as it is a mirror for the fleetingflames of sunrise and sunset?

The sea-birds are blended tints of rock, sand, sky, and water, save thedash of coral in bill and foot of a few, just as the coral of thewild-rose hips blends with the tawny marsh-grasses. Scarlet is a colourabhorred even by the marshes, until late in autumn the blaze of samphireconsumes them with long spreading tongues of flame. How can people beso senseless as to come seaward to cool their bodies, and yet sosurround themselves with scarlet that it is never out of range of theeye?

Lavinia Cortright and the botanical Bradfords, as Evan calls them, because though equally lovers of flowers, they go further than some forthe reason why that lies hid beneath the colour and perfume, have laidout and are still developing a sand garden that, while giving thecottage home the restful air that is a garden's first claim, has stillthe distinct identity of the sand and sea!

To begin, with one single exception, they have drawn upon the wild forthis garden, even as you are doing in the restoration of your knoll. Back of the cottage a dozen yards is a sand ridge covering some fairlygood, though mongrel, loam, for here, as along most of the coasts ofsounds and bays, the sea, year by year, has bitten into the soil and atthe same time strewn it with sand. Considering this as the gardenboundary, a windbreak of good-sized bayberry bushes has been placedthere, not in a stiff line, but in blended groups, enclosing threesides, these bays being taken from a thicket of them farther toward themarshes. 

An alley from the back porch into this enclosure is bordered on eitherside by bushes of beach plum, that, when covered with feathery whitebloom in May, before the leaves appear, gives the sandy shore the onlyorchard touch it knows. Of course the flowering period is over when theusual shore season begins, though nowadays there is no off time--peoplego to shore and country when they are moved; yet the beach plum is apicturesque bush at any time, especially when, in September, it isloaded with the red purple fruit. In the two spaces on either side thealley the sand is filled with massed plants that, when a little moretime has been given them for stretching and anchoring their roots, willstraightway weave a flower mat upon the sand. 

Down beyond the next point, one day last autumn, Horace and Sylvia founda plantation of our one New England cactus, the prickly pear (_Opuntiaopuntia_). We have it here and there in our rocky pasture; but ingreater heat and with better underfeeding it seemed a bit of a tropicalplain dropped on the eastern coast. Do you know the thing? The leavesare shaped like the fans of a lobster's tail and sometimes areseveral-jointed, smooth except for occasional tufts of very treacherousspikes, and of a peculiar semitranslucent green; the half-double flowersset on the leaf edges are three inches across and of a brilliantsulphur-yellow, with tasselled stamens; the fruit is fleshy, somewhatfig-shaped, and of a dark red when ripe--altogether a very decorativeplant, though extremely difficult to handle. 

After surveying the plantation on all sides, the tongs used by theoyster dredges suggested themselves to Horace, and thus grasped, theprickly pears were safely moved and pegged in their new quarters withlong pieces of bent wire, the giant equivalents of the useful hairpinsthat I recommended for pegging down your ferns. 

Now the entire plot of several yards square, apparently untroubled bythe removal, is in full bloom, and has been for well-nigh a month, theysay, though the individual blossoms are but things of a day. Close by, another yellow flower, smaller but more pickable, is just now waving, the rock rose or frostweed, bearing two sorts of flowers: theconspicuous yellow ones, somewhat resembling small evening primroses, while all the ground between is covered with an humble member of therock rose family--the tufted beach heather with its intricate branches, reminding one more of a club-moss than a true flowering plant. Not ascrap of sand in the enclosure is left uncovered, and the various plantsare set closely, like the grasses and wild flowers of a meadow, the sandpinweed that we gather, together with sea lavender, for winter bouquetsmuch resembling a flowering grass. 

The rabbit-foot clover takes kindly to the sandy soil, and, as itflowers from late May well into September, and holds its little furrytails like autumn pussy-willows until freezing weather, makes a veryinteresting sort of bed all by itself, and massed close to it, as ifrecognizing the family relationship, is the little creeping bush cloverwith its purplish flowers. 

Next, set thickly in a mass representing a stout bush, comes the fleshybeach pea with rosy purple flowers. When it straggles along according toits sweet will, it has a poor and weedy look, but massed so that thesomewhat difficult colour is concentrated, it is very decorative, and itserves as a trellis for the trailing wild bean, a sand lover that has alonger flowering season. 

A patch of a light lustrous purple, on closer view, proves to be a massof the feathered spikes of blazing star or colic-root, first cousin ofthe gay-feather of the West, that sometimes grows six feet high and hasbeen welcomed to our gardens. 

On the opposite side of the beach-plum alley, the Bradfords have madepreparations for autumn glory, such as we always drive down to the marshlands from Oaklands not only to see but to gather and take home. Massesof the fleshy tufted seaside goldenrod, now just beginning to throw upits stout flowerstalks, flank a bed of wild asters twenty feet across. Here are gathered all the asters that either love or will tolerate drysoil, a certain bid for their favour having been made by mixing severalbarrels of stiff loam with the top sand, as an encouragement until theroots find the hospitable mixture below. 

The late purple aster (_patens_) with its broad clasping leaves, thesmooth aster (_lævis_) with its violet-blue flowers, are making goodbushes and preparing for the pageant. Here is the stiff white-heathaster, the familiar Michaelmas daisy, that is so completely covered withsnowy flowers that the foliage is obliterated, and proves its hold uponthe affections by its long string of names, --frostweed, white rosemary, and farewell summer being among them, --and also the white-wreath aster, with the flowers ranged garland-wise among the rigid leaves, and thestiff little savory-leaved aster or sand starwort with pale violet rays. Forming a broad, irregular border about the asters are stout dwarfbushes of the common wild rose (_humilis_), that bears its deep pinkflowers in late spring and early summer and then wears large round hipsthat change slowly from green to deep glowing red, in time to make aframe of coral beads for the asters. 

Outside the hedge of bays, where a trodden pathway leads to the boatlanding, the weathered rocks, washed with soft tints blended of thebreath of sea mist and sunset rays, break through the sand. In the leeof these, held in place by a line of stones, is a long, low bed oflarge-flowered portulaca, borrowed from inland gardens, and yet so inkeeping with its surroundings as to seem a native flower of sea sands. 

The fleshy leaves at a little distance suggest the form of many plantsof brackish marsh and creek edges, and even the glasswort itself. Whenthe day is gray, the flowers furl close and disappear, as it were, butwhen the sun beats full upon the sand, a myriad upraised fleshy littlearms stretch out, each holding a coloured bowl to catch the sunbeams, asif the heat made molten the sand of quartz and turned it into pottery intints of rose, yellow, amber, scarlet, and carnation striped. It was abold experiment, this garden in the sand, but already it is making good. 

Then, too, what a refreshment to the eyes is it, when the unbrokenexpanse of sky and sea before the house tires, to turn them landwardover the piece of flowers toward the cool green marshes ribboned withthe pale pink camphor-scented fleabane, the almost intangible sealavender, the great rose mallows and cat-tail flags of the wet ground, the false indigo that, in the distance, reminds one of the broom ofScottish hills, the orange-fringed orchis, pink sabbatia, purplemaritime gerardia, milkwort, the groundsel tree, that covers itself withfeathers in autumn, until, far away beyond the upland meadows, thesilver birches stand as outposts to the cool oak woods, in whose shadethe splendid yellow gerardia, or downy false foxglove, nourishes. Truly, while the land garden excels in length of season and profusion, thegardens of the sea appeal to the lighter fancies and add the charmedspice of variety to out-of-door life. 

One of the most interesting features of this cottage and itssurroundings is the further transplanting of Martin Cortright from hiscity haunts. At Meadow's End, though he works in the garden in adilettante sort of way with Lavinia, takes long walks with father, andoccasionally ventures out for a day's fishing with either or both of mymen, he is still the bookworm who dives into his library upon everyopportunity and has never yet adapted his spine comfortably to thecurves of a hammock! In short he seems to love flowers historically--morefor the sake of those in the past who have loved and written of themthan for their own sake. 

But here, even as I began to write to you, Mary Penrose, entrenched in anook among the steep rocks between the cottage and the sea, a figurecoming up the sand bar, that runs northward and at low water shows asmooth stretch a mile in length, caught my eye. Laboriously butpersistently it came along; next I saw by the legs that it was a man, amoment later that he was lugging a large basket and that a potato forkprotruded from under one arm, and finally that it was none other thanMartin Cortright, who had been hoeing diligently in the sand and mud fora couple of hours, that his guests might have the most delectable of allsuppers, --steamed clams, fresh from the water, the condition alone underwhich they may be eaten _sans peur et sans reproche_!

XII

THE TRANSPLANTING OF EVERGREENS

(Mary Penrose to Barbara Campbell)

_Woodridge, August 8. _ Back again in our camp, we thought to pauseawhile, rest on our oars, and drift comfortably with the gentle summertide of things. We have transplanted all the ferns and wild herbs forwhich we have room, and as a matter of course trees and shrubs must waituntil they have shed their leaves in October. That is, all the treesthat _do_ shed. The exceptions are the evergreens, of which the riverwoods contain any number in the shape of hemlocks, spruces, and youngwhite pines, the offspring, I take it, of a plantation back of theWindom farm, for we have not found them anywhere else. 

The best authorities upon the subject of evergreens say that trees ofsmall size should be transplanted either in April, before they havebegun to put on their dressy spring plumes, or, if the season be not toohot and dry, or the distance considerable, in August, after this growthhas matured, time thus being given for them to become settled in theground before winter. 

We weighed the matter well. The _pros_ in favour of spring planting layin the fact that rain is very likely to be plentiful in April, and givenbut half a chance, everything grows best in spring; the _cons_ beingthat the spring rush is usually overpowering, that in a late season thefrost would not be fairly out of the knoll and ground by the fence, where we need a windbreak, before garden planting time, and that duringthe winter clearing that will take place in the river valley, leaf firesmay be started by the workmen that will run up the banks and menace ourtreasure-trove of evergreens. 

The _pros_ for August consisted mainly of the pith of a proverb and abit of mad Ophelia's sanity: "There is no time like the present" and "Weknow what we are, but know not what we may be!"

At present we have a good horse, Larry, and plenty of time, the _con_being, suppose we have a dry, hot autumn. The fact that we have a newwater-barrel on wheels and several long-necked water-pots is only apartial solution of the difficulty, for the nearest well is anold-fashioned arrangement with a sweep, located above the bank wall atOpal Farm. This well is an extremely picturesque object in thelandscape, but as a water-producer as inadequate as the shaving-mug withwhich the nervous gentleman, disturbed at his morning task, rushed outto aid in extinguishing a fire!

Various predictions as to the weather for the month have been lavishedupon us, the first week having produced but one passing shower. AmosOpie foresees a muggy, rainless period. Larry declares for much rain, asit rained at new moon and again at first quarter; but, as he says, as ifto release himself from responsibility, "That's the way we read it inOireland, but maybe, as this is t'other side of the warld, it's all theother way round wid rain!" Barney was noncommittal, but then histemperament is of the kind that usually regrets whatever is. 

For three or four days we remained undecided, and then _The Man fromEverywhere_ brought about a swift decision for August transplanting, bythe information that the general clearing of the woodlands would beginNovember first, the time for fulfilling the contract having beenshortened by six months at the final settlement. 

We covet about fifty specimen pines and hemlocks for the knoll and fullytwo hundred little hemlocks for the windbreaks, so we at once began thework and are giving two days a week to the digging and transporting andthe other four to watering. That is, Bart and Larry are doing this; I amlooking on, making suggestions as to which side of a tree should be infront, nipping off broken twigs, and doing other equally light andpleasant trifles. 

Our system of transplanting is this: we have any number of old burlapfeed bags, which, having become frayed and past their usefulness, webought at the village store for a song. These Larry filled with thesoft, elastic moss that florists use, of which there is any quantity inthe low backwater meadows of the river. A good-sized tree (and we arenot moving any of more than four or five feet in height; larger ones, itseems, are better moved in early winter with a ball of frozen earth) hasa bag to itself, the roots, with some earth, being enveloped in themoss, the bag as securely bound about them as possible with heavy cord, and the whole thing left to soak at the river edge while the next one isbeing wrapped. Of the small hemlocks for the windbreak, --and we areusing none over two or three feet for this purpose, as we want to pinchthem in and make them stocky, --the roots of three or four will often gointo a bag. 

When enough for a day's planting is thus collected, we go home, stackthem in the shade, and the next morning the resetting begins! The bagsare not opened until they are by the hole in which the trees are to beplaced, which, by the way, is always made and used after the directionsyou gave us for rose planting; and I'm coming to agree with you that thesuccess in gardening lies more than half in the putting under ground, and that the proper spreading and securing of roots in earth thoroughlyloosened to allow new roots to feel and find their way is one of thesecrets of what is usually termed "luck"!

This may sound like a very easy way of acquiring trees, but it sometimestakes an hour to loosen a sturdy pine of four feet. Of course arelentless hand that stops at nothing, with a grub-axe and spade, coulddo it in fifteen minutes, but the roots would be cut or bruised and thepulling and tugging be so violent that not a bit of earth would cleave, and thus the fatal drying process set in almost before the digging wascompleted. 

Larry first loosens the soil all about the tree with a crowbar, dislodging any binding surface stones in the meantime; then the rootsare followed to the end and secured entire when possible, a bit ofdetective work more difficult than it sounds in a bank where foresttrees of old growth have knit roots with saplings for mutual protection. 

Setting-out day sees a procession of three water-carriers going Indianfile up one side of the knoll and down the other. Bart declares that bythe time his vacation is over he will be sufficiently trained to becomecaptain of the local fire company, which consists of an antique engine, of about the capacity of one water-barrel, and a bucket brigade. 

This profuse use of water, upon the principle of imitation, has broughtabout another demand for it on the premises. The state of particularlyclay-and-leaf-mouldy perspiration in which Bart finds himself these dayscries aloud for a shower-bath, nor is he or his boots and clothing in asuitable condition for tramping through the house and turning the familybath-tub into a trough wherein one would think flower-pots had beenwashed. 

With the aid of Amos Opie an oil-barrel has been trussed up like aminiature windmill tank in the end of the camp barn, one end of whichrests on the ground, and being cellarless has an earth floor. Around thesupports of this tank is fastened an unbleached cotton curtain, and whenstanding within and pulling a cord attached to an improvised spray, thecontents of the barrel descend upon Bart's person with hygienicthoroughness, the only drawback being that twelve pails of water have tobe carried up the short ladder that leads from floor to barrel top eachtime the shower is used. Bart, however, seems to enjoy the processimmensely, and Larry, by the way in which he lingers about the place andgrins, evidently has a secret desire to experiment with it himself. 

Larry has been a great comfort up to now, but we both have an undefinedidea that one of his periods of "rest" is approaching. He works withfeverish haste, alternating with times of sitting and looking at theground, that I fear bodes no good. He also seems to take a diabolicpleasure in tormenting Amos Opie as regards the general make-up andpedigree of his beloved hound David. 

David has human intelligence in a setting that it would be difficult toclassify for a dog-show; a melancholy bloodhound strain certainlypercolates thoroughly through him, and his long ears, dewlaps, and frontlegs, tending to bow, separate him from the fox "'ounds" of Larry'sexperience. To Amos Opie David is the only type of hound worthy of thename; consequently there has been no little language upon the subject. That is, Larry has done the talking, punctuated by contemptuous "huhs"and sniffs from Amos, until day before yesterday. On this day David wenton a hunting trip extending from five o'clock in the afternoon until thenext morning, during which his voice, blending with two immature cries, told that he was ranging miles of country in company with a pair ofthoroughbred fox-hound pups, owned by the postmaster, the training ofwhich Amos Opie was superintending, and owing to an attack of rheumatismhad delegated to David, whose reliability for this purpose could not beoverestimated according to his master's way of thinking. For a place insome ways so near to civilization, the hills beyond the river woodsabound in fox holes, and David has conducted some good runs on his ownaccount, it seems; but this time alack! alack! he came limping slowlyhome, footsore and bedraggled, followed by his pupils and bearing a hugedead cat of the half-wild tribe that, born in a barn and having noowner, takes to a prowling life in the woods. 

I cannot quite appreciate the enormity of the offence, but doubtless Dr. Russell and your husband can, as they live in a fox-hunting country. Itseems that a rabbit would have been bad enough, something however, tobe condoned, --but not a cat! Instantly Amos fixed upon Larry as theresponsible cause of the calamity, --Larry, who is so soaked in a speciesof folk-lore, blended of tradition, imagination, and high spirits that, after hearing him talk, it is easy to believe that he deals in magic bythe aid of a black cat, and unfortunately the cat brought in by Davidwas of this colour!

Then Amos spoke, for David's honour was as his own, and Larry heard apronounced Yankee's opinion, not only of all the inhabitants of theEmerald Isle, but of one in particular! After freeing his mind, hethreatened to free his house of Larry as a lodger, this beingparticularly unfortunate considering the near approach of one of thatgentleman's times of retirement. 

Last night I thought the sky had again cleared, for Amos discovered thatthe postmaster did not suspect the cat episode, and as Larry had nofriends in the village through which it might leak out, the old manseemed much relieved; also, Larry apparently is not a harbourer ofgrievances. Within an hour, however, a second episode has furtherstrained the relationship of lodger and host, and it has snapped. 

Though still quite stiff in the joints, Amos came over this morning todo some little tinkering in the barn camp, especially in strengtheningthe stays of the shower-bath tank, when, as he was on his kneesfastening a brace to a post, in some inexplicable manner the string waspulled and the contents of the entire barrel of cold well-water werereleased, the first sprinkle so astonishing and bewildering poor Amosthat he remained where he was, and so received a complete drenching. 

Bart and Larry were up in the woods getting the day's load of hemlocks, and I, hearing the spluttering and groans, went to Amos's rescue as wellas I could, and together with Maria Maxwell got him to the kitchen, where hot tea and dry clothes should have completely revived him inspite of age. As, however, to-day, it seems, is the anniversary of afamous illness he acquired back in '64, on his return from the CivilWar, the peculiarities of which he has not yet ceased proclaiming, he isevidently determined to celebrate it forthwith, so he has taken to hisbed, groaning with a stitch in his side. The doctor has been telephoned, and Maria Maxwell, as usual bursting with energy, which on this occasiontakes a form between that of a dutiful daughter and a genuine countryneighbour, has gone over to Opal Farm to tidy up a bit until the doctorgives his decision and some native woman, agreeable to Amos's taste, canbe found to look after the interesting yet aggravating crank. 

But this is not all. Amos declines to allow Larry to lodge in the housefor another night, attributing the ducking to him, in spite of the factthat he was at least six miles away. In this both Bart and I think Amosright, for Larry's eye had a most inquiring expression on his return, and I detected him slipping into the old barn at the first opportunityto see if the tank was empty, while Bart says that he has been talkingto himself in a gleeful mood all the morning, and so he has decidedthat, as Larry has worked long enough to justify it, he will buy him aprepaid passage home to his daughter and see him off personally byto-morrow's steamer. As Amos will have none of Larry, to send the maninto village lodgings would probably hasten his downfall. I did hope tokeep him until autumn, for he has taught me not a little gardening in agenial and irresponsible sort of way, and the rose garden is laid out ina manner that would do credit to a trained man, Larry having the rarecombination of seeing a straight line and yet being able to turn agraceful curve. But even if Amos had been willing to allow him to sleepover one of his attacks, it would have been a dubious example forBarney, and in spite of the comfort he has been I now fully realize thelimitations of so many of his race, at once witty, warm-hearted, soothing, and impossible; it is difficult not to believe what they say, even when you know they are lying, and this condition is equallydemoralizing both to master and man. 

_August 11. _ Anastasia wept behind her apron when Larry left, but Barneyassumed a cheerfulness and interest in his work that he has never shownbefore. Bart says that in spite of a discrepancy of twenty-odd years hethinks that Larry, by his fund of stories and really wonderful jigdancing, was diverting Anastasia's thoughts, and the comfortable savingsattached, from Barney, who, though doubtless a sober man and far moredurable in many ways, is much less interesting an object for the dailycontemplation of an emotional Irishwoman. 

While Bart was in town yesterday seeing Larry started on his journey, Maria and I, with the Infant tucked between in the buggy, went for anouting under the gentle guidance of Romeo, who through constant practicehas become the most expert standing horse in the county. I'm only afraidthat his owners on their return may not appreciate this accomplishment. Being on what Maria calls "a hunt for antiques, " we drove in thedirection of Newham village, which you know is away from railroads andhas any number of old-time farms. We were not looking forspinning-wheels and andirons, but old-fashioned roses and peonies, especially the early double deep crimson variety that looks like a greatJack rose. We located a number of these in June and promised to returnfor our plunder in due season. Last year I bought some peony roots inAugust, and they throve so well, blooming this spring, that I think itis the best time for moving them. 

In one of the houses where we bought pink-and-white peonies the womansaid she had a bed, as big as the barn-door, of "June" lilies, and that, as they were going to build a hen-house next autumn on the spot wherethey grew, she was going to lift some into one of her raised mounds (anawful construction, being a cross between a gigantic dirt pie and agrave), and said that I might have all the spare lily bulbs that Iwanted if I would give her what she termed a "hatching" of gladiolusbulbs. Just at present the lilies have entirely disappeared, and nothingbut bare earth is visible, but I think from the description that theymust be the lovely Madonna lilies of grandmother's Virginia garden thatmade a procession from the tea-house quite down to the rose garden, like a bevy of slender young girls in confirmation array. If so, they donot take kindly to handling, and I have an indistinct remembrance ofsome rather unusual time of year when it must be done if necessary. 

Please let me know about this, for I can be of little use in the movingof the evergreens and I want something to potter about in the garden. There are two places for a lily bed, but I am uncertain which is bestuntil I hear from you. Either will have to be thoroughly renovated inthe matter of soil, so that I am anxious to start upon the right basis. One of these spots is in full sun, with a slope toward the orchard; inthe other the sun is cut off after one o'clock, though there are nooverhanging branches; there is also a third place, a squashy spot downin the bend of the old wall. 

On our return, toward evening, we met _The Man from Everywhere_ drivingdown from the reservoir ground toward Opal Farm, a pink-cheeked youngfellow of about twenty sharing the road wagon with him. As he has againbeen away for a few days, we drew up to exchange greetings and _The Man_said, rather aside, "I'm almost sorry that Larry fell from the skies tohelp out your gardening, for here is a young German who has come from adistance, with a note from a man I know well, applying for work at thequarry; but there will be nothing suitable for him there for severalmonths, for he's rather above the average. He would have done very wellfor you, as, though he speaks little English, I make out that his fatherwas an under-forester in the fatherland. As it is, I'm taking him to thefarm with me for the night and will try to think of how I may help himon in the morning. "

Instantly both Maria and I began to tell of Larry's defection indifferent keys, the young man meanwhile keeping up a deferential andmost astonishing bowing and smiling. 

Having secured the seal of Bart's approval, Meyer has been engaged, andafter to-day we must accustom our ears to a change from Larry's richbrogue to the juicy explosiveness of German; and worse yet, I must rackmy brains for the mostly forgotten dialect of the schoolroom languagethat is learned with such pain and so quickly forgotten. 

I'm wondering very much about _The Man's_ sudden return to Opal Farm andif it will interfere with Maria Maxwell's daily care of Amos Opie; for, as it turns out, he is really ill, the chill resulting from Larry'sprank having been the final straw, and no suitable woman having beenfound, who has volunteered to tend the old man in the emergency, butMaria! That is, to the extent of taking him food and giving himmedicines, for though in pain he is able to sit in an easy-chair. Mariacertainly is capable, but so stupid about _The Man_. However, as thefarm-house is now arranged as two dwellings, with the connecting dooropening in the back hall and usually kept locked on Amos's side, shecannot possibly feel that she is putting herself in _The Man's_ way!

XIII

LILIES AND THEIR WHIMS

(Barbara Campbell to Mary Penrose)

_Oaklands, August 18. _ As a suitable text for this chronicle, as well asan unanswerable argument for its carrying out, combined with a sort ofpremium, I'm sending you to-day, freight paid, a barrel oflily-of-the-valley roots, all vigorous and with many next year'sflowering pips attached. 

No, --I hear your decorous protest, --I have not robbed myself, neither amI giving up the growing of this most exquisite of spring flowers, whosefragrance penetrates the innermost fastnesses of the memory, yet isnever obtrusive. Simply my long border was full to overflowing and lastseason some of the lily bells were growing smaller. When this happens, as it does every half a dozen years, I dig two eight-inch trenches downthe bed's entire length, and taking out the matted roots, fill the gapwith rich soil, adding the plants thus dispossessed to my purse ofgarden wampum, which this time falls into your lap entire. Of thetreatment of the little flower, that is erroneously supposed to feastonly upon leaf-mould in the deep shade, you shall hear later. 

By all means begin your lily bed now, for the one season at which theMadonna lily resents removal the least is during the August restingtime. Then, if you lift her gently while she sleeps, do not let the coolearth breath that surrounds her dry away, and bed her suitably, she willawaken and in a month put forth a leafy crown of promise to be fulfillednext June. Madonna does not like the shifting and lifting that falls tothe lot of so many garden bulbs owing to the modern requirements thatmake a single flower bed often a thing of three seasonal changes. Manybulbs, many moods and whims. Hyacinths and early tulips blossom theirbest the first spring after their autumn planting (always supposing thatthe bob-tailed meadow-mice, who travel in the mole tunnels, therebygiving them a bad reputation, have not feasted on the tender heart budsin the interval). 

The auratum lily of the gorgeous gold-banded and ruby-studded flowerexults smilingly for a season or two and then degenerates sadly. 

Madonna, if she be healthy on her coming, and is given healthy soil freefrom hot taint of manure, will live with you for years and love you andgive you every season increasing yield of silver-white-crowned stalks, at the very time that you need them to blend with your royal bluedelphiniums. But this will be only if you obey the warning of "hands andspade off. "

The three species of the well-known recurved Japan lily--_speciosumroseum_, _s. Rubrum_, and _s. Album_--have the same love of permanence;likewise the lily-of-the-valley and all the tribe of border narcissi anddaffodils; so if you wish to keep them at their best, you must not onlygive them bits of ground all of their own, but study their individualneeds and idiosyncrasies. 

Lilies as a comprehensive term, --the Biblical grass of the field, --asfar as concerns a novice or the Garden, You, and I, may be made to coverthe typical lilies themselves, tulips, narcissi (which are of theamaryllis flock), and lilies-of-the-valley, a tribe by itself. You willwish to include all of them in your garden, but you must limit yourselfto the least whimsical varieties on account of your purse, the laborentailed, and the climate. 

Of the pieces of ground that you describe, take that in partial shadefor your Madonna lilies and their kin, and that in the open sun for yourlilies-of-the-valley, while I would keep an earth border free fromsilver birches, on the sunny side of your tumble-down stone-wallrockery, for late tulips and narcissi; and grape hyacinths, scillas, trilliums, the various Solomon's seals, bellworts, etc. , can beintroduced in earth pockets between the rocks if, in case of thedeeper-rooted kinds, connection be had with the earth below. 

It is much more satisfactory to plant spring bulbs in this way, --ingroups, or irregular lines and masses, where they may bloom according totheir own sweet will, and when they vanish for the summer rest, scattera little portulaca or sweet alyssum seed upon the soil to prevent toogreat bareness, --than to set them in formal beds, from which they musteither be removed when their blooming time is past, or else one runs therisk of spoiling them by planting deep-rooted plants among them. 

The piece of sunny ground in the angled dip of the old wall, which youcall "decidedly squashy, " interests me greatly, for it seems the veryplace for Iris of the Japanese type, --lilies that are not lilies in theexact sense, except by virtue of being built on the rule of three andhaving grasslike or parallel-veined leaves. But these closely alliedplant families and their differences are a complex subject that we neednot discuss, the whole matter being something akin to one of the dearold Punch stories that adorn Evan's patriotic scrap-book. 

A railway porter, puzzled as in what class of freight an immensetortoise shall be placed, as dogs are the only recognized standard, pauses, gazing at it as he scratches his head, and mutters, "Cats isdogs and rabbits is dogs, but this 'ere hanimal's a hinsect!" The Irismay be, in this respect, a "hinsect, " but we will reckon it in with thelilies. 

The culture of this Japan Iris is very simple and well worth while, forthe species comes into bloom in late June and early July, when theGerman and other kinds are through. I should dig the wet soil from thespot of which you speak, for all muck is not good for this Iris, andafter mixing it with some good loam and well-rotted cow manure replaceit and plant the clumps of Iris two feet apart, for they will spreadwonderfully. In late autumn they should have a top dressing of manureand a covering of corn stalks, but, mind, water must not stand on yourIris bed in winter; treating them as hardy plants does not warrant theirbeing plunged into water ice. It is almost impossible, however, to givethem too much water in June and July, when the great flowers of rainbowhues, spreading to a size that covers two open hands, cry for drink tosustain the exhaustion of their marvellous growth. So if your "squashyspot" is made so by spring rains, all is well; if not, it must bedrained in some easy way, like running a length of clay pipe beneath, sothat the overplus of water will flow off when the Iris growth cannotabsorb it. 

Ah me! the very mention of this flower calls up endless visions ofbeauty. Iris--the flower of mythology, history, and one might almost sayscience as well, since its outline points to the north on the face ofthe mariner's compass; the flower that in the dawn of recorded beautyantedates the rose, the fragments of the scattered rainbow of creationthat rests upon the garden, not for a single hour or day or week, butfor a long season. The early bulbous _Iris histriodes_ begins the seasonin March, and the Persian Iris follows in April. In May comes the sturdyGerman Iris of old gardens, of few species but every one worthy, and tobe relied upon in mass of bloom and sturdy leafage to rival even thepeony in decorative effect. Next the meadows are ribboned by our ownblue flags; and the English Iris follows and in June and July meets thesumptuous Iris of Japan at its blooming season, for there seems to beno country so poor as to be without an Iris. 

There are joyous flowers of gold and royal blue, the Flower de Luce(Flower of Louis) of regal France, and sombre flowers draped in deepgreen and black and dusky purple, "The widow" (_Iris tuberosa_) and theChalcedonian Iris (_Iris Susiana_), taking its name from the PersianSusa. _Iris Florentina_ by its powdered root yields the delicate violetperfume orris, a corruption doubtless of Iris. 

Many forms of root as well as blossom has the Iris, tuberous, bulbous, fibrous, and if the rose may have a garden to itself, why may not theIris in combination with its sister lilies have one also? And when myeyes rest upon a bed of these flowers or upon a single blossom, I longto be a poet. 

 * * * * *

Now to begin: will your shady place yield you a bed four feet in widthby at least twenty in length? If so, set Barney to work with pick andspade. The top, I take it, is old turf not good enough to use foredging, so after removing this have it broken into bits and put in aheap by itself. When the earth beneath is loosened, examine itcarefully. If it is good old mellow loam without the pale yellow colourthat denotes the sterile, undigested soil unworked by roots orearthworms, have it taken out to eighteen inches in depth and shovelledto one side. When the bad soil is reached, which will be soon, have itremoved so that the pit will be three feet below the level. 

Next, let Barney collect any old broken bits of flower-pots, cobbles, orsmall stones of any kind, and fill up the hole for a foot, and let thebroken turf come on top of this. If possible, beg or buy of Amos Opie acouple of good loads of the soil from the meadow bottom where the redbell-lilies grow, and mix this with the good loam, together with ascattering of bone, before replacing it. The bed should not only befull, but well rounded. Grade it nicely with a rake and wait a week oruntil rain has settled it before planting. When setting these lilies, let there be six inches of soil above the bulb, and sprinkle the holeinto which it goes with fresh-water sand mixed with powdered sulphur. 

This bed will be quite large enough for a beginning and will allow youfour rows of twenty bulbs in a row, with room for them to spreadnaturally into a close mass, if so desired. Or better yet, do not putthem in stiff rows, but in groups, alternating the early-flowering withthe late varieties. A row of German Iris at the back of this bed willgive solidity and the sturdy foliage make an excellent windbreak in theblooming season. If your friendly woman in the back country will giveyou two dozen of the Madonna lily bulbs, group them in fours, leaving ashort stake in the middle of each group that you may know its exactlocation, for the other lilies you cannot obtain before October, unlessyou chance to find them in the garden of some near-by florist or friend. These are--

 _Lilium speciosum album_--white recurved. _Lilium speciosum rubrum_--spotted with ruby-red. _Lilium speciosum roseum_--spotted with rose-pink. 

All three flower in August and September, _rubrum_ being the latest, andbarring accidents increase in size and beauty with each year. 

In spite of the fact of their fickleness, I would buy a dozen or two ofthe auratum lilies, for even if they last but for a single year, theyare so splendid that we can almost afford to treat them as a fleetingspectacle. As the _speciosum_ lilies (I wish some one would give them amore gracious name--we call them curved-shell lilies here amongourselves) do not finish flowering sometimes until late in September, the bulbs are not ripe in time to be sold through the stores, untilthere is danger of the ground being frozen at night. 

[Illustration: SPECIOSUM LILIES IN THE SHADE. ]

On the other hand, if purchased in spring, unless the bulbs have beenwintered with the greatest care in damp, not wet, peat moss, or sand, they become so withered that their vitality is seriously impaired. Thereare several dealers who make a specialty of thus wintering lilybulbs, [A] and if you buy from one of these, I advise spring planting. 

If, however, for any reason you wish to finish your bed this fall, afterplanting and covering each bulb, press a four or five inch flower-potlightly into the soil above it. This will act as a partial watershed tokeep the drip of rain or snow water from settling in the crown of thebulb and decaying the bud. Or if you have plenty of old boards about theplace, they may be put on the bed and slightly raised in the centre, like a pitched roof, so as to form a more complete watershed, and thewinter covering of leaves, salt, hay, or litter, free of manure, can bebuilt upon this. Crocuses, snowdrops, and scillas make a charming borderfor a lily bed and may be also put between the lilies themselves to lendcolour early in the season. 

To cover your bed thoroughly, so that it will keep out cold and damp andnot shut it in, is a _must be_ of successful lily culture. Have you evertried to grow our hardiest native lilies like the red-wood, Turk's cap, and Canada bell-lily in an open border where the porous earth, filled byice crystal, was raised by the frost to the consistency of bread sponge?I did this not many years ago and the poor dears looked pinched andwoebegone and wholly unlike their sturdy sisters of meadow and uplandwood edges. Afterward, in trying to dig some of these lilies from theirnative soil, I discovered why they were uncomfortable in the openborders; the Garden, You, and I would have to work mighty hard to find awinter blanket for the lily bed to match the turf of wild grassessometimes half a century old. 

Many other beautiful and possible lilies there are besides these four, but these are to be taken as first steps in lily lore, as it were; forto make anything like a general collection of this flower is a matter ofmore serious expense and difficulty than to collect roses, owing to thefrailness of the material and the different climatic conditions underwhich the rarer species, especially those from India and the seaislands, originated; but given anything Japanese and a certaincosmopolitan intelligence seems bred in it that carries a reasonablehope of success under new conditions. 

We have half a dozen species of beautiful native lilies, but like someof our most exquisite ferns they depend much for their attractivenessupon the setting their natural haunts offer, and I do not like to seethem caged, as it were, within strict garden boundaries. 

The red wood-lily should be met among the great brakes of a sandy woodedge, where white leafless wands of its cousin, star-grass, or colicroot, wave above it, and the tall late meadow-rue and white angelicafringe the background. 

The Canada bell-lily needs the setting of meadow grasses to veil itslong, stiff stalks, while the Turk's-cap lily seems the most at home ofall in garden surroundings, but it only gains its greatest size in thedeep meadows, where, without being wet, there is a certain moisturebeneath the deep old turf, and this turf itself not only keeps outfrost, but moderates the sun's rays in their transit to the ground. 

Two lilies there are that, escaping from gardens, in many places havebecome half wild--the brick-red, black-spotted tiger lily with recurvedflowerets, after the shape of the Japanese _roseum_, _rubrum_, and_album_, being also a native of Japan and China, and the tawny orangeday lily, that is found in masses about old cellars and waysides, withits tubular flowers, held on leafless stems, springing from a mattedbed of leaves. This day lily (_hemerocallis fulva_) is sister to thefamiliar and showy lemon lily of old gardens (_hemerocallis flava_). Ifyou have plenty of room by your wall, I should lodge a few good bunchesby it when you find some in a location where digging is possible. It isa decorative flower, but hardly worthy of good garden soil. The same maybe said of the tiger lily, on account of the very inharmonious shade ofred it wears; yet if you have a half-wild nook, somewhere that a dozenbulbs of it may be tucked in company with a bunch of the common tallwhite phlox that flowers at the same time, you will have a bit of colourthat will care for itself. 

The lemon lily should have a place in the hardy border well toward thefront row and be given enough room to spread into a comfortable circleafter the manner of the white plantain lily (_Funkia subcordata_). Thislast lily, another of Japan's contributions to the hardy garden, bloomsfrom August until frost and unlike most of the lily tribe is pleased ifwell-rotted manure is deeply dug into its resting-place. 

As with humanity the high and lowly born are subject to the samediseases, so is it with the lily tribe, and because you choose thesturdiest and consequently least expensive species for your garden, donot think that you may relax your vigilance. 

There is a form of fungous mould that attacks the bulbs of lilieswithout rhyme or reason and is the insidious tuberculosis of the race. _Botrytis cinerea_ is its name and it seizes upon stalk and leaves inthe form of spots that are at first yellow and then deepen in colour, until finally, having sapped the vitality of the plant, it succumbs. 

Cold, damp, insufficient protection in winter, all serve to render thelily liable to its attacks, but the general opinion among the wise isthat the universal overstimulation of lilies by fertilizers during lateyears, especially of the white lilies used for church and otherdecorative purposes, has undermined the racial constitution and made itprone to attacks of the enemy. Therefore, if you please, Mary Penrose, sweet soil, sulphur, sand, and good winter covering, if you would nothave your lily bed a consumptives' hospital!

Some lilies are also susceptible to sunstroke. When growing in the fulllight and heat of the sun, and the buds are ready to open, suddenly theflowers, leaves, and entire stalk will wither, as when in spring a tulipcollapses and we find that a meadow-mouse has nipped it in the core. But with the lily the blight comes from above, and the only remedy is toplant in half shade. 

On the other hand the whims of the flower require that this be donecarefully, for if the scorching sun is an evil, a soaking, sopping rain, coming at the height of the blooming season and dripping fromoverhanging boughs, is equally so. The gold-and-copper pollen turns torusty tears that mar the petals of satin ivory or inlaid enamel, and asickly transparency that bodes death comes to the crisp, translucentflower!

"What a pother for a bed of flowers!" I hear you say, "draining, subsoiling, sulphuring, sanding, covering, humouring, and then sunstrokeor consumption at the end!" So be it, but when success does come, it issomething worth while, for to be successful with these lilies is "aimingthe star" in garden experience. 

The plantain lilies and hemerocallis seem free from all of these whimsand diseases, but it is when we come to the lily-of-the-valley that wehave the compensation for our tribulations with the royal lilies of pureblood. 

The lily-of-the-valley asks deep, very rich soil in the open sun; if awall or hedge protects it from the north, so much the better. I do notknow why people preach dense shade for this flower; possibly becausethey prefer leaves to flowers, or else that they are of the sheeplikefollowers of tradition instead of practical gardeners of personalexperience. One thing grows to perfection in the garden of thiscommuter's wife, and that is lilies-of-the-valley, and shade knows themnot between eight in the morning and five at night, and we pick and picksteadily for two weeks, for as the main bed gives out, there are stripshere and there in cooler locations that retard the early growth, butnever any overhanging branches. 

In starting a wholly new bed, as you are doing, it is best to separatethe tangled roots into small bunches, seeing to it that a few buds or"pips" remain with each, and plant in long rows a foot apart, three rowsto a four-foot bed. Be sure to bury a well-tarred plank a foot in widthedgewise at the outer side of the bed, unless you wish, in a couple ofyears' time, to have this enterprising flower walk out and about thesurrounding garden and take it for its own. Be sure to press the rootsin thoroughly and cover with three inches of soil. 

In December cover the bed with rotten _cow_ manure for several inchesand rake off the coarser part in April, taking care not to break thepointed "pips" that will be starting, and you will have a forest ofcool green leaves and such flowers as it takes much money to buy. Notthe first season, of course, but after that--forever, if you thin outand fertilize properly. 

In the back part of your lily-of-the-valley bed plant two or three rowsof the lovely poets' narcissus (_poeticus_). It opens its white flowersof the "pheasant's eye" cup at the same time as the lilies bloom, itgrows sufficiently tall to make a good upward gradation, and it likes tobe let severely alone. But do not forget in covering in the fall to putleaves over the narcissi instead of manure. Of other daffodils andnarcissi that I have found very satisfactory, besides the good mixturesoffered by reliable houses at only a dollar or a dollar and a quarter ahundred (the poets' narcissi only costing eighty cents a hundred forgood bulbs), are Trumpet Major, Incomparabilis, the old-fashioned"daffy, " and the monster yellow trumpet narcissus, Van Sion. 

The polyanthus narcissi, carrying their many flowers in heads at the topof the stalk, are what is termed half hardy and they are more frequentlyseen in florists' windows than in gardens. I have found them hardy ifplanted in a sheltered spot, covered with slanted boards and leaves, which should not be removed before April, as the spring rain andwinds, I am convinced, do more to kill the species than winter cold. Theflowers are heavily fragrant, like gardenias, and are almost too sweetfor the house; but they, together with violets, give the garden theopulence of odour before the lilacs are open, or the heliotropes thatare to be perfumers-in-chief in summer have graduated from thumb pots inthe forcing houses. 

[Illustration: THE POET'S NARCISSUS. ]

Unless one has a large garden and a gardener who can plant and tendparterres of spring colour, I do not set much value upon outdoorhyacinths; they must be lifted each year and often replaced, as thelarge bulbs soon divide into several smaller ones with the flowersproportionately diminished. To me their mission is, to be grown in pots, shallow pans, or glasses on the window ledge, for winter and springcomforters, and I use the early tulips much in the same way, except fora cheerful line of them, planted about the foundation of the house, thatwhen in bloom seems literally to lift home upon the spring wings ofresurrection!

All my tulip enthusiasm is centred in the late varieties, and chiefamong these come the fascinating and fantastic "parrots. "

When next I have my garden savings-bank well filled, I am going to makea collection of these tulips and guard them in a bed underlaid withstout-meshed wire netting, so that no mole may leave a tunnel for thewicked tulip-eating meadow-mouse. 

It is these late May-flowering tulips of long stalks, like wands of tallperennials, that you can gather in your arms and arrange in your largestjars with a sense at once combined of luxury and artistic joy. 

Better begin as I did by buying them in mixture; the species you mustchoose are the bizarre, bybloems, parrots, breeders, Darwin tulips, andthe rose and white, together with a general mixture of late singles. Five dollars will buy you fifty of each of the seven kinds, threehundred and fifty bulbs all told and enough for a fine display. TheDarwin tulips yield beautiful shades of violet, carmine, scarlet, andbrown; the bizarres, many curious effects in stripes and flakes; therose and white, delicate frettings and margins of pink on a whiteground; but the parrots have petals fringed, twisted, beaked, poisedcuriously upon the stalks, splashed with reds, yellows, and green, andto come suddenly upon a mass of them in the garden is to think for abrief moment that a group of unknown birds blown from the tropics in aforced migration have alighted for rest upon the bending tulip stalks. 

[A] F. H. Horsford of Charlotte, Vt. , is very reliable in this matter. 

XIV

FRAGRANT FLOWERS AND LEAVES

(Mary Penrose to Barbara Campbell)

_Woodridge, August 26. _ The heliotrope is in the perfection of bloom andseems to draw perfume from the intense heat of the August days only torelease it again as the sun sets, while as long as daylight lastsbutterflies of all sizes, shapes, and colours are fluttering about theflowers until the bed is like the transformation scene of a veritabledance of fairies!

Possibly you did not know that I have a heliotrope bed planted at thevery last moment. I had never before seen a great mass of heliotropegrowing all by itself until I visited your garden, and ever since I havewondered why more people have not discovered it. I think that I wroteyou anent _hens_ that the ancient fowl-house of the place had been atthe point where there was a gap in the old wall below the knoll, andthat the wind swept up through it from the river, across the Opal Farmmeadows, and into the windows of the dining room? The most impossibleplace for a fowl-house, but exactly the location, as _The Man fromEverywhere_ suggested, for a bed of sweet odours. 

I expected to do nothing with it this season until one day Larry, thedeparted, in a desire to use some of the domestic guano with which therough cellar of the old building was filled, carted away part of it, andsupplying its place with loam, dug over and straightened out theirregular space, which is quite six feet wide by thirty long. 

The same day, on going to a near-by florist's for celery plants, I foundthat he had a quantity of little heliotropes in excess of his needs, that had remained unpotted in the sand of the cutting house, where theyhad spindled into sickly-looking weeds. In a moment of the horticulturalgambling that will seize one, I offered him a dollar for the lot, whichhe accepted readily, for it was the last of June and the poor thingswould probably have been thrown out in a day or two. 

I took them home and spent a whole morning in separating and cutting offthe spindling tops to an even length of six inches. Literally thereseemed to be no end to the plants, and when I counted them I found thatI had nearly a hundred and fifty heliotropes, which, after rejectingthe absolutely hopeless, gave me six rows for the bed. 

For several weeks my speculation in heliotropes was a subject of muchmirth between Bart and myself, and the place was anything but a bed ofsweet odours! The poor things lost the few leaves they had possessed andreally looked as if they had been haunted by the ghosts of all thedeparted chickens that had gone from the fowl-house to the block. Thenwe had some wet weather, followed by growing summer heat, and I did notvisit the bed for perhaps a week or more, when I rubbed my eyes andpinched myself; for it was completely covered with a mass of vigorousgreen, riotous in its profusion, here and there showing flower buds, andever since it is one of the places to which I go to feast my eyes andnose when in need of garden encouragement! Another year I shall plantthe heliotrope in one of the short cross-walk borders of the old garden, where we may also see it from the dining room, and use the larger bedfor the more hardy sweet things, as I shall probably never be able tobuy so many heliotrope plants again for so little money. 

Now also I have a definite plan for a large border of fragrant flowersand leaves. I have been on a journey, and, having spent three wholedays from home, I am able for once to tell you something instead ofendlessly stringing questions together. 

We also have been to the Cortrights' at Gray Rocks, and through a whiffof salt air, a touch of friendly hands, much conversation, and a driveto Coningsby (a village back from the shore peopled by the descendantsof seafarers who, having a little property, have turned mildly tofarming), we have received fresh inspiration. 

You did not overestimate the originality of the Cortrights' seasidegarden, and even after your intimate description, it contained severalsurprises in the shape of masses of the milkweeds that flourish in sandysoil, especially the dull pink, and the orange, about which thebrick-red monarch butterflies were hovering in great flocks. Neither didyou tell me of the thistles that flank the bayberry hedge. I neverrealized what a thing of beauty a thistle might be when encouraged andallowed room to develop. Some of the plants of the common deep purplethistle, that one associates with the stunted growths of dustyroadsides, stood full five feet high, each bush as clear cut and erectas a candelabrum of fine metal work, while another group was composed ofa pale yellow species with a tinge of pink in the centre set in veryhandsome silvery leaves. I had never before seen these yellow thistles, but Lavinia Cortright says that they are very plentiful in the dryground back of the marshes, where the sand has been carried in driftsboth by wind and tide. 

The table and house decorations the day that we arrived were of thistlesblended with the deep yellow blossoms of the downy false foxglove orGerardia and the yellow false indigo that looks at a short distance likea dwarf bush pea. 

We drove to Coningsby, as I supposed to see some gay little gardens, fantastic to the verge of awfulness, that had caught Aunt Lavinia's eye. In one the earth for the chief bed was contained in a surf-boat that hadbecome unseaworthy from age, and not only was it filled to the brim, butvines of every description trailed over the sides. 

A neighbour opposite, probably a garden rival of the owner of the boatbut lacking aquatic furniture, had utilized a single-seated cutterwhich, painted blue of the unmerciful shade that fights with everythingit approaches, was set on an especially green bit of side lawn, surrounded by a heavy row of conch shells, and the box into which theseat had been turned, as well as the bottom of the sleigh itself, wasfilled with a jumble of magenta petunias and flame-coloured nasturtiums. 

After we had passed down a village street a quarter of a mile long, bordered on either side by floral combinations of this description, thesight began to pall, and I wondered how it was possible that any flowerswell watered and cared for could produce such a feeling of positiveaversion as well as eye-strained fatigue; also, if this was all that theCortrights had driven us many miles to see, when it was so much moreinteresting to lounge on either of the porches of their own cottage, theone commanding the sea and the other the sand garden, the low dunes, andthe marsh meadows. 

"It is only half a mile farther on, " said Aunt Lavinia, quick to feelthat we were becoming bored, without our having apparently given anysign to that effect. 

"It! What is _it_?" asked Bart, while I, without shame it is confessed, having a ravenous appetite, through outdoor living, hoped that _it_ wassome quaint and neat little inn that "refreshed travellers, " as it wasexpressed in old-time wording. 

"How singular!" ejaculated Aunt Lavinia; "I thought I told you lastnight when we were in the garden--well, it must have been in a dreaminstead. _It_ is the garden of Mrs. Marchant, wholly of fragrant things;it is on the little cross-road, beyond that strip of woods up there, "and she waved toward a slight rise in the land that was regarded as ahill of considerable importance in this flat country. 

"It does not contain merely a single bed of sweet odours like Barbara'sand mine, but is a garden an acre in extent, where everything admittedhas fragrance, either in flower or leaf. We chanced upon it quite byaccident, Martin and I, when driving ourselves down from Oaklands, across country, as it were, to Gray Rocks, by keeping to shady lanes, byways, and pent roads, where it was often necessary to take down barsand sometimes verge on trespassing by going through farmyards in orderto continue our way. 

"After traversing a wood road of unusual beauty, where everything brokenand unsightly had been carefully removed that ferns and wild shrubsmight have full chance of life, we came suddenly upon a white picketgate covered by an arched trellis, beyond which in the vista could beseen a modest house of the real colonial time, set in the midst of agarden. 

"At once we realized the fact that the lane was also a part of thegarden in that it was evidently the daily walk of some one who lovednature, and we looked about for a way of retracing our steps. At thesame moment two female figures approached the gate from the other side. At the distance at which we were I could only see that one was tall andslender, was dressed all in pure white, and crowned by a mass of hair tomatch, while the other woman was short and stocky, and the way in whichshe opened the gate and held it back told that whatever her age might beshe was an attendant, though probably an intimate one. 

"In another moment they discovered us, and as Martin alighted from thevehicle to apologize for our intrusion the tall figure immediatelyretreated to the garden, so quickly and without apparent motion that wewere both startled, for the way of moving is peculiar to those whosefeet do not really tread the earth after the manner of their fellows;and before we had quite recovered ourselves the stout woman had advancedand we saw by the pleasant smile her round face wore that she was notaggrieved at the intrusion but seemed pleased to meet human beings inthat out-of-the-way place rather than rabbits, many of which hadscampered away as we came down the lane. 

"Martin explained our dilemma and asked if we might gain the highwaywithout retracing our steps. The woman hesitated a moment, and thensaid, 'If you come through the gate and turn sharp to the right, you cango out across the apple orchard by taking down a single set of bars, only you'll have to lead your horse, sir, for the trees are set thickand are heavy laden. I'd let you cross the bit of grass to the drive bythe back gate yonder but that it would grieve Mrs. Marchant to see theturf so much as pressed with a wheel; she'd feel and know it somehow, even if she didn't see it. '

"'Mrs. Marchant! Not Mrs. Chester Marchant?' cried Martin, while thefar-away echo of something recalled by the name troubled the ears of mymemory. 

"'Yes, sir, the very same! Did you know Dr. Marchant, sir? The minute Ilaid eyes on you two I thought you were of her kind!' replied the woman, pointing backward over her shoulder and settling herself against theshaft and side of Brown Tom, the horse, as if expecting and making readyfor a comfortable chat. 

"As she stood thus I could take a full look at her withoutintrusiveness. Apparently well over sixty years old, and her face linestelling of many troubles, yet she had not a gray hair in her head andher poise was of an independent landowner rather than an occupier ofanother's home. I also saw at a glance that whatever her presentposition might be, she had not been born in service, but was probably anative of local importance, who, for some reason perfectly satisfactoryto herself, was 'accommodating. '

"'Dr. Marchant, Dr. Russell, and I were college mates, ' said Martin, briefly, 'and after he and his son died so suddenly I was told that hiswidow was mentally ill and that none could see her, and later that shehad died, or else the wording was so that I inferred as much, ' and thevery recollection seemed to set Martin dreaming. And I did not wonder, for there had never been a more brilliant and devoted couple than Abbieand Chester Marchant, and I still remember the shock of it when wordcame that both father and son had been killed by the same runawayaccident, though it was nearly twenty years ago. 

"'She was ill, sir, was Mrs. Marchant; too ill to see anybody. For along time she wouldn't believe that the accident had happened, and whenshe really sensed it, she was as good as dead for nigh five years. Oneday some of her people came to me--'twas the year after my own husbanddied--and asked if I would take a lady and her nurse here to live withme for the summer. They told me of her sickness and how she was alwaystalking of some cottage in a garden of sweet-smelling flowers where shehad lived one happy summer with her husband and her boy, and they placedthe house as mine. 

"'Her folks said the doctors thought if she could get back here for atime that it might help her. Then I recollected that ten years before, when I went up to Maine to visit my sister, I'd rented the place, justas it stood, to folks of the name of Marchant, a fine couple that didn'tlook beyond each other unless 'twas at their son. In past times mygrandmother had an old-country knack of raising healing herbs and allsorts of sweet-smelling things, along with farm truck, so that folkscame from all about to buy them and doctors too, for such things weren'tsold so much in shops in those days as they are now, and so this placecame to be called the Herb Farm. After that it was sold off, little bylittle, until the garden, wood lane, and orchard is about all that'sleft. 

"'I was lonesome and liked the idea of company, and besides I was nonetoo well fixed; yet I dreaded a mournful widow that wasn't all thereanyway, according to what they said, but I thought I'd try. Well, sir, she come, and that first week I thought I'd never stand it, she talkedand wrung her hands so continual. But one day what do you thinkhappened? I chanced to pick a nosegay, not so much fine flowers perhapsas good-smelling leaves and twigs, and put it in a little pitcher in herroom. 

"'It was like witchcraft the way it worked; the smell of those thingsseemed to creep over her like some drugs might and she changed. Shestopped moaning and went out into the garden and touched all the posieswith her fingers, as if she was shaking hands, and all of a sudden itseemed, by her talk, as if her dead were back with her again; and onevery other point she's been as clear and ladylike as possible eversince, and from that day she cast off her black clothes as if wearing'em was all through a mistake. 

"'The doctors say it's something to do with the 'sociation of smells, for that season they spent in my cottage was the only vacation Dr. Marchant had taken in years, and they say it was the happiest time inher life, fussing about among my old-fashioned posies with him; andsomehow in her mind he's got fixed there among those posies, and everyyear she plants more and more of them, and what friends of hers sheever speaks of she remembers by some flowers they wore or liked. 

"'Well, as it turned out, her trustees have bought my place out andfixed it over, and here we live together, I may say, both fairlycontent!

"'Come in and see her, won't you? It'll do no harm. Cortright, did yousay your name was?' and before we could retreat, throwing Brown Tom'sloose check-rein across the pickets of the gate, she led us to where thetall woman, dressed in pure white, stood under the trees, a look ofperfectly calm expectancy in the wonderful dark eyes that made such acontrast to her coils of snow-white hair. 

"'Cortright! Martin Cortright, is it not?' she said immediately, as hercompanion spoke the surname. 'And your wife? I had not heard that youwere married, but I remember you well, Lavinia Dorman, and your citygarden, and the musk-rose bush that ailed because of having too littlesun. Chester will be so sorry to miss you; he is seldom at home in themornings, for he takes long walks with our son. He is having the firstentire half year's vacation he has allowed himself since our marriage. But you will always find him in the garden in the afternoon; he is sofond of fragrant flowers, and he is making new studies of herbs andsuch things, for he believes that in spite of some great discoveries itwill be proven that the old simples are the most enduring medicines. '

"As she spoke she was leading the way, with that peculiar undulatingprogress, like a cloud blown over the earth's surface, that I hadnoticed at first. Then we came out from under the shade of the treesinto the garden enclosure and I saw borders and beds, but chieflyborders, stretching and curving everywhere, screening all the fences, approaching the house, and when almost there retreating in gracefullines into the shelter of the trees. The growth had the luxuriance of ajungle, and yet there was nothing weedy or awry about it, and as thebreeze blew toward us the combination of many odours, both pungent andsweet, was almost overpowering. 

"'You very seldom wore a buttonhole flower, but when you did it was asafrano bud or else a white jasmine, ' Mrs. Marchant said, wheelingsuddenly and looking at Martin with a gaze that did not stop where hestood, but went through and beyond him; 'it was Dr. Russell who alwayswore a pink! See! I have both here!' and going up to a tea-rose bush, grown to the size of a shrub and lightly fastened to the side of thehouse, she gathered a few shell-like buds and a moment later pulleddown a spray of the jasmine vine that festooned a window, as we see itin England but never here, and carefully cut off a cluster of its whitestars by aid of a pair of the long, slender flower-picking scissors thathung from her belt by a ribbon, twisted the stems together, and placedthem in Martin's buttonhole almost without touching it. 

"Having done this, she seemed to forget us and drifted away among theflowers, touching some gently as she passed, snipping a dead leaf hereand arranging a misplaced branch there. 

"We left almost immediately, but have been there many times since, andthough as a whole the garden is too heavily fragrant, I thought that itmight suggest possibilities to you. "

As Aunt Lavinia paused we were turning from the main road into thenarrow but beautifully kept lane upon which the Herb Farm, as it wasstill called, was located, by one of those strange freaks that sometimesinduces people to build in a strangely inaccessible spot, though quitenear civilization. I know that you must have come upon many such placesin your wanderings. 

Of course my curiosity was piqued, and I felt, besides, as if I wasabout to step into the page of some strange psychological romance, norwas I disappointed. 

The first thing that I saw when we entered was a great strip ofheliotrope that rivalled my own, and opposite it an equal mass ofsilvery lavender crowned by its own flowers, of the colour that we sofrequently use as a term, but seldom correctly. There were no flagged orgravel walks, but closely shorn grass paths, the width of a lawn-mower, that followed the outline of the borders and made grateful footing. 

Bounding the heliotrope and lavender on one side was a large bed of whatI at first thought were Margaret carnations, of every colour combinationknown to the flower, but a closer view showed that while those in thecentre were Margarets, those of the wide border were of a heavierquality both in build of plant, texture of leaf, and flower, which waslike a compact greenhouse carnation, the edges of the petals being verysmooth and round, while in addition to many rich, solid colours therewere flowers of white-and-yellow ground, edged and striped and flakedwith colour, and the fragrance delicious and reminiscent of the clovepinks of May. 

Mrs. Puffin, the companion, could tell us little about them except thatthe seed from which they were raised came from England and that, asshe put it, they were fussy, troublesome things, as those sown oneseason had to be lifted and wintered in the cold pit and get just somuch air every day, and be planted out in the border again in April. Aunt Lavinia recognized them as the same border carnations over whichshe had raved when she first saw them in the trim gardens of HamptonCourt. Can either you or Evan tell me more of them and why we do not seethem here? Before long I shall go garden mad, I fear; for after groomingthe place into a generally decorative and floriferous condition oftrees, shrubs, vines, ferns, etc. , will come the hunger for specialtiesthat if completely satisfied will necessitate not only a rosary, a lilyand wild garden, a garden--rather than simply a bed--of sweet odours, and lastly a garden wholly for the family of pinks or carnations, whichever is the senior title. I never thought of these last except as agarden incident until I saw their possibilities in Mrs. Marchant's spaceof fragrant leaves and flowers. 

[Illustration: A BED OF JAPAN PINKS. ]

The surrounding fences were entirely concealed by lilacs and syringas, interspersed with gigantic bushes of the fragrant, brown-floweredstrawberry shrub; the four gates, two toward the road, one to thebarn-yard, and one entering the wood lane, were arched high and coveredby vines of Wisteria, while similar arches seemed to bring certain bedstogether that would have looked scattered and meaningless without them. In fact next to the presence of fragrant things, the artistic use ofvines as draperies appealed to me most. 

The border following the fence was divided, back of the house, by avine-covered arbour, on the one side of which the medicinal herbs andsimples were massed; on the other what might be classed as decorative orgarden flowers, though some of the simples, such as tansy with itsclusters of golden buttons, must be counted decorative. 

The plants were never set in straight lines, but in irregular groupsthat blended comfortably together. Mrs. Marchant was not feeling well, Mrs. Puffin said, and could not come out, greatly to my disappointment;but the latter was only too glad to do the honours, and the plant namesslipped from her tongue with the ease of long familiarity. 

This patch of low growth with small heads of purple flowers wasbroad-leaved English thyme; that next, summer savory, used in cooking, she said. Then followed common sage and its scarlet-flowered cousinthat we know as salvia; next came rue and rosemary, Ophelia's flower ofremembrance, with stiff leaves. Little known or grown, or rathercapricious and tender here, I take it, for I find plants of it offeredfor sale in only one catalogue. Marigolds were here also, why I do notknow, as I should think they belonged with the more showy flowers; theninconspicuous pennyroyal and several kinds of mints--spearmint, peppermint, and some great plants of velvet-leaved catnip. 

Borage I saw for the first time, also coriander of the aromatic seeds, and a companion of dill of vinegar fame; and strangely enough, inrotation of Bible quotation, cumin and rue came next. 

Caraway and a feathery mass of fennel took me back to grandmother'sVirginia garden; balm and arnica, especially when I bruised a leaf ofthe latter between my fingers, recalled the bottle from which I soothethe Infant's childish bumps, the odour of it being also stronglyreminiscent of my own childhood. 

Angelica spoke of the sweet candied stalks, but when we reached a spotof basil, Martin Cortright's tongue was loosed and he began to recitefrom Keats; and all at once I seemed to see Isabella sitting among theshadows holding between her knees the flower-pot from which thestrangely nourished plant of basil grew as she watered it with hertears. 

A hedge of tall sunflowers, from whose seeds, Mrs. Puffin said, asoothing and nourishing cough syrup may be made, antedating cod-liveroil, replaced the lilacs on this side, and with them blended boneset andhorehound; while in a springy spot back toward the barn-yard the longleaves of sweet flag or calamus introduced a different class of foliage. 

On the garden side the border was broken every ten feet or so with greatshrubs of our lemon verbena, called lemon balm by Mrs. Puffin. It seemedimpossible that such large, heavily wooded plants could be lifted forwinter protection in the cellar, yet such Mrs. Puffin assured us was thecase. So I shall grow mine to this size if possible, for what one can domay be accomplished by another, --that is the tonic of seeing othergardens than one's own. Between the lemon verbenas were fragrant-leavedgeraniums of many flavours--rose, nutmeg, lemon, and one with a sharppeppermint odour, also a skeleton-leaved variety; while a low-growingplant with oval leaves and half-trailing habit and odd odour, Mrs. Puffin called apple geranium, though it does not seem to favour thefamily. Do you know it?

Bee balm in a blaze of scarlet made glowing colour amid so much green, and strangely enough the bluish lavender of the taller-growing sister, wild bergamot, seems to harmonize with it; while farther down the linegrew another member of this brave family of horsemints with almost pink, irregular flowers of great beauty. 

Southernwood formed fernlike masses here and there; dwarf tansy made theedging, together with the low, yellow-flowered musk, which Aunt Lavinia, now quite up in such things, declared to be a "musk-scented mimulus!"whatever that may be! Stocks, sweet sultan, and tall wands of eveningprimrose graded this border up to another shrubbery. 

Of mignonette the garden boasts a half dozen species, running from onenot more than six inches in height with cinnamon-red flowers to a tallvariety with pointed flower spikes, something of the shape of the whiteflowers of the clethra bush or wands of Culver's root that grow alongthe fence at Opal Farm. It is not so fragrant as the common mignonette, but would be most graceful to arrange with roses or sweet peas. AuntLavinia says that she thinks that it is sold under the name of Milesspiral mignonette. 

Close to the road, where the fence angle allows for a deep bed and thelilacs grade from the tall white of the height of trees down to thecompact bushes of newer French varieties, lies the violet bed, now amass of green leaves only, but by these Aunt Lavinia's eye read them outand found here the English sweet wild violet, as well as the deep purpledouble garden variety, the tiny white scented that comes withpussy-willows, the great single pansy violet of California, and theviolets grown from the Russian steppes that carpeted the ground underyour "mother tree. "

From this bed the lilies-of-the-valley start and follow the entirelength of the front fence, as you preach on the sunny side, the fenceitself being hidden by a drapery of straw-coloured and pink Chinesehoneysuckle that we called at home June honeysuckle, though this iscovered with flower sprays in late August, and must be therefore a sortof monthly-minded hybrid, after the fashion of the hybrid tea-rose. 

If I were to tell of the tea-roses grown here, they would fill achronicle by itself, though only a few of the older kinds, such assafrano, bon silene, and perle, are favourites. Mrs. Puffin says thatsome of them, the great shrubs, are wintered out-of-doors, and othersare lifted, like the lemon balms, and kept in the dry, light cellar intubs. 

But oh! Mrs. Evan, you must go and see Mrs. Marchant's lilies! They aregrowing as freely as weeds among the uncut grass, and blooming asprofusely as the bell-lilies in Opal Farm meadows! And all the springbulbs are also grown in this grass that lies between the shorn grasspaths, and in autumn when the tops are dead and gone it is carefullyburned over and the turf is all the winter covering they have. 

Does the grass look ragged and unsightly? No, because I think that it iscut lightly with a scythe after the spring bulbs are gone and that thepatient woman, whose life the garden is, keeps the tallest seededgrasses hand trimmed from between the lily stalks!

Ah, but how that garden lingers with me, and the single glimpse I caughtof the deep dark eyes of its mistress as they looked out of a vine-cladwindow toward the sky!

I have made a list of the plants that are possible for my own permanentbed of fragrant flowers and leaves, that I may enjoy them, and that theInfant may have fragrant memories to surround all her youth and bind herstill more closely to the things of outdoor life. 

I chanced upon a verse of Bourdillon's the other day. Do you know it?

 "Ah! full of purest influence On human mind and mood, Of holiest joy to human sense Are river, field, and wood; And better must all childhood be That knows a garden and a tree!"

XV

THE PINK FAMILY OUTDOORS

(Barbara Campbell to Mary Penrose)

_Oaklands, September 1. _ So you have been away and in going discoveredthe possibilities of growing certain pinks and carnations out-of-doorsthat, in America at least, are usually considered the winter specialtiesof a cool greenhouse!

We too have been afield somewhat, having but now returned from a drivingtrip of ten days, nicely timed as to gardens and resting-places untilthe last night, when, making a false turn, ten o'clock found us we didnot know where and with no prospect of getting our bearings. 

We had ample provisions for supper with us, including two bottles ofginger ale; no one knew that we were lost but ourselves and no one wasexpecting us anywhere, as we travel quite _con amore_ on these littlenear-by journeys of ours. The August moon was big and hot and late inrising; there was a rick of old hay in a clean-looking field by theroadside that had evidently been used as winter fodder for youngcattle, for what remained of it was nibbled about the base, leaving aprotruding, umbrella-like thatch, not very substantial, but sufficientshelter for a still night. Then and there we decided to play gypsy andcamp out, literally under the sky. Evan unharnessed the horse, wateredhim at a convenient roadside puddle, and tethered him at the rear of thestack, where he could nibble the hay, but not us! Then spreading thehorse-blanket on some loose hay for a bed, with the well-tufted seat ofthe buggy for a pillow, and utilizing the lap robe for a cover againstdew, we fell heavily asleep, though I had all the time a half-consciousfeeling as if little creatures were scrambling about in the hay beneaththe blanket and occasionally brushing my face or ears with a batlikewing, tiny paws, or whisking tail. When I awoke, and of courseimmediately stirred up Evan, the moon was low on the opposite side ofthe stack, the stars were hidden, and there was a dull red glow amongthe heavy clouds of the eastern horizon like the reflection of a distantfire, while an owl hooted close by from a tree and then flew with alurch across the meadow, evidently to the destruction of some smallcreature, for a squeal accompanied the swoop. A mysterious thing, thisflight of the owl: the wings did not flap, there was no sound, merelythe consciousness of displaced air. 

We were not, as it afterward proved, ten miles from home, and yet, asfar as trace of humanity was concerned, we might have been the onlycreated man and woman. 

Do you remember the old gypsy song?--Ben Jonson's, I think--

 "The owl is abroad, the bat, the toad, And so is the cat-a-mountain; The ant and the mole both sit in a hole, And frog peeps out o' the fountain; The dogs they bay and the timbrels play And the spindle now is turning; The moon it is red, and the stars are fled But all the sky is a-burning. "

But we were still more remote, for of beaters of timbrels and turners ofspindles were there none!

 * * * * *

Your last chronicle interested us all. In the first place fatherremembers Mrs. Marchant perfectly, for he and the doctor used toexchange visits constantly during that long-ago summer when they livedon the old Herb Farm at Coningsby. Father had heard that she washopelessly deranged, but nothing further, and the fact that she isliving within driving distance in the midst of her garden of fragranceis a striking illustration both of the littleness of the earth and thesocial remoteness of its inhabitants. 

Father says that Mrs. Marchant was always a very intellectual woman, andhe remembers that in the old days she had almost a passion for fragrantflowers, and once wrote an essay upon the psychology of perfumes thatattracted some attention in the medical journal in which it waspublished by her husband. That the perfume of flowers should now havedrawn the shattered fragments of her mind together for their comfort andgiven her the foretaste of immortality, by the sign of the consciousnessof personal presence and peace, is beautiful indeed. 

Your declaration that henceforth one garden is not enough for yourambition, but that you crave several, amuses me greatly. For a merenovice I must say that you are making strides in seven-leaguehorticultural boots, wherein you have arrived at the heart of thematter, viz. :--one may grow many beautiful and satisfactory flowers in amixed garden such as falls to the lot of the average woman sufficientlylucky to own a garden at all, but to develop the best possibilities ofany one family, like the rose, carnation, or lily, that is a bitwhimsical about food and lodging, each one must have a garden of itsown, so to speak, which, for the amateur, may be made to read as aspecial bed in a special location, and not necessarily a vast area. 

This need is always recognized in the English garden books, and thechapter headings, The Rose Garden, --Hardy Garden, --Wall Garden, --LilyGarden, --Alpine Garden, etc. , lead one at first sight to think that itis a great estate alone that can be so treated; but it is merely ahorticultural protest, born of long experience, against mixing races totheir mutual hurt, and this precaution, together with the climate, makesof all England a gardener's paradise!

What you say of the expansiveness of the list of fragrant flowers andleaves is also true, for taken in the literal sense there are really fewplants without an individual odour of some sort in bark, leaf, or flowerusually sufficient to identify them. In a recent book giving whatpurports to be a list of fragrant flowers and leaves, the chrysanthemumis included, as it gives out an aromatic perfume from its leaves! Thisis true, but so also does the garden marigold, and yet we should notinclude either among fragrant leaves in the real sense. 

Hence to make the right selection of plants for the bed of sweet odoursit is best, as in the case of choosing annuals, to adhere to a few triedand true worthies. 

But at your rhapsody on the bed of carnations, I am also tempted tolaunch forth in praise of all pinks in general and the annual floweringgarden carnation, early Marguerite, and picotee varieties in particular, especially when I think what results might be had from the same bits ofground that are often left to be overrun with straggling and unworthyannuals. For to have pinks to cut for the house, pinks for colour massesout-of-doors, and pinks to give away, is but a matter of understanding, a little patience, and the possession of a cold pit (which is but adeeper sort of frame like that used for a hotbed and sunken in theground) against a sunny wall, for the safe wintering of a few of thetenderer species. 

In touching upon this numerous family, second only to the rose inimportance, the embarrassment is, where to begin. Is a carnation a pink, or a pink a carnation? I have often been asked. You may settle that asyou please, since the family name of all, even the beardedSweet-William, is _Dianthus_, the decisive title of Linnæus, a word fromthe Greek meaning "flower of Jove, " while the highly scented speciesand varieties of the more or less pungent clove breath remain under theold subtitle--_Caryophyllus_. 

To go minutely into the differences and distinctions of the race wouldrequire a book all to itself, for in 1597, more than three hundred yearsago, Gerarde wrote: "There are, under the name of _Caryophyllus_, comprehended diuers and sundrie sorts of plants, of such variablecolours and also severall shapes that a great and large volume would notsuffice to write of euery one in particular. " And when we realize thatthe pink was probably the first flower upon which, early in theeighteenth century, experiments in hybridization were tried, theintricacy will be fully understood. 

For the Garden, You, and I, three superficial groups only are necessary:the truly hardy perennial pinks, that when once established remain foryears; the half-hardy perennials that flower the second year afterplanting, and require protection; and the biennials that will flower thefirst year and may be treated as annuals. 

The Margaret carnations, though biennials, are best treated as annuals, for they may be had in flower in three to four months after the sowingof the seed, and the English perennial border carnations, bizarres, andpicotees will live for several years, but in this climate must bewintered in a _dry wooden_ cold pit, after the manner of the perennialvarieties of wallflowers, tender roses, and the like. 

I emphasize the words _dry wooden_ in connection with a cold pit from myexperience in seeking to make mine permanent by replacing the planks, with which it was built and which often decayed, by stone work, withmost disastrous results, causing me to lose a fine lot of plants bymildew. 

The truly hardy pinks (_dianthus plumarius_), the fringed andclove-scented species both double and single of old-time gardens, thatbloom in late spring and early summer, are called variously May andgrass pinks. Her Majesty is a fine double white variety of this class, and if, in the case of double varieties, you wish to avoid the risk ofgetting single flowers, you would better start your stock with a fewplants and subdivide. For myself, every three or four years, I sow theseed of these pinks in spring in the hardy seed bed, and transplant totheir permanent bed early in September, covering the plants lightly inwinter with evergreen boughs or corn stalks. Leaf litter or any sort ofcovering that packs and holds water is deadly to pinks, so prone is thecrown to decay. 

In the catalogues you will find these listed under the names ofPheasant's Eye, Double Scotch pinks (_Scotius_), and Perpetual Pink(_semperflorens_). With this class belongs the Sweet-William (_dianthusbarbatus_), which should be sown and treated in a like manner. It isalso a hardy perennial, but I find it best to renew it every few years, as the flowers of young plants are larger, and in spite of care, themost beautiful hybrids will often decay at the ground. There is nogarden flower, excepting the Dahlia, that gives us such a wealth ofvelvet bloom, and if you mean to make a specialty of pinks, I shouldadvise you to buy a collection of Sweet-Williams in the separatecolours, which range from white to deepest crimson with varied markings. 

Directions for sowing the biennial Chinese and Japanese pinks were givenin the chronicle concerning the hardy seed bed. These pinks are notreally fragrant, though most of them have a pleasant apple odour that, together with their wonderful range of colour, makes them particularlysuitable for table decoration. 

In addition to the mixed colours recommended for the general seed bed, the following Japanese varieties are of special beauty, among the singlepinks: Queen of Holland, pure white; Eastern Queen, enormous rose-pinkflowers, Crimson Belle, dark red. Among the double, Fireball, an intensescarlet; the Diadem pink, Salmon Queen, and the lovely Oriental Beautywith diversely marked petals of a crêpy texture. 

The double varieties of course are more solid and lasting, if they donot insist upon swelling so mightily that they burst the calyx and sohave a dishevelled and one sided look; but for intrinsic beauty ofcolour and marking the single Chinese and Japanese pinks, particularlythe latter, reign supreme. They have a quality of holding one akin tothat of the human eye and possess much of the power of individualexpression that belongs to pansies and single violets. 

By careful management and close clipping of withered flowers, a bed ofthese pinks may be had in bloom from June until December, the firstflowers coming from the autumn-sown plants, which may be replaced inAugust by those sown in the seed bed in late May, which by this timewill be well budded. 

"August is a kittle time for transplanting border things, " I hear yousay. To be sure; but with your water-barrel, the long-necked water-pots, and a judicious use of inverted flower-pots between ten A. M. And four P. M. , there is no such word as fail in this as in manyother cases. 

[Illustration: SINGLE AND DOUBLE PINKS. ]

Upon the second and third classes you must depend for pinks of thetaller growth ranging from one to two feet in height and flourishinglong-stemmed clusters of deliciously clove-scented flowers. The hardyMargarets might be wintered in the pit, if it were worth the while, butthey are so easily raised from seed, and so prone literally to bloomthemselves to death in the three months between midsummer and hardfrost, that I prefer to sow them each year in late March and April andplant them out in May, as soon as their real leaves appear, and pullthem up at the general autumnal garden clearance. Upon the highlyscented perpetual and picotee pinks or carnations (make your own choiceof terms) you must depend for fragrance between the going of the Maypinks and the coming of the Margarets; not that they of necessity ceaseblooming when their more easily perfected sisters begin; quite thecontrary, for the necessity of lifting them in the winter gives them aspring set-back that they do not have in England, where they are theuniversal hardy pink, alike of the gardens of great estates and thebrick-edged cottage border. 

These are the carnations of Mrs. Marchant's garden that filled you withsuch admiration, and also awoke the spirit of emulation. LaviniaCortright was correct in associating them with the lavish bloom of thegardens of Hampton Court, for if anything could make me permanentlyunpatriotic (which is impossible), it would be the roses and picoteepinks of the dear old stupid (human middle-class, and coldbedroom-wise), but florally adorable mother country!

The method by which you may possess yourself of these crowning flowersof the garden, for _coro_nations is one of the words from which_car_nation is supposed but to be derived, is as follows:--

Be sure of your seed. Not long ago it was necessary to import it direct, but not now. You may buy from the oldest of American seed houses fiftyvarieties of carnations and picotees, in separate packets, for threedollars, or twenty-five sorts for one dollar and seventy-five cents, ortwelve (enough for a novice) for one dollar, the same being undoubtedlyEnglish or Holland grown, while a good English house asks fiveshillings, or a dollar and a quarter, for a single packet of mixedvarieties!

Moral--it is not necessary that "made in England" should be stamped uponflower seeds to prove them of English origin!

If you can spare hotbed room, the seeds may be sown in April, like theearly Margarets, and transplanted into some inconspicuous part of thevegetable garden, where the soil is deep and firm and there is a freecirculation of air (not between tall peas and sweet corn), as for thefirst summer these pinks have no ornamental value, other than thepleasurable spectacle made by a healthy plant of any kind, by virtue ofits future promise. Before frost or not later than the second week inOctober the pinks should be put in long, narrow boxes or potssufficiently large to hold all the roots comfortably, but with littlespace to spare, watered, and partly shaded, until they have recoveredthemselves, when they should be set in the lightest part of the coldpit. During the winter months they should have only enough water to keepthe earth from going to dust, and as much light and air as possiblewithout absolutely freezing hard, after the manner of treating lemonverbenas, geraniums, and wall-flowers. 

By the middle of April they may be planted in the bed where they are tobloom, and all the further care they need will be judicious watering andthe careful staking of the flower stalks if they are weak and the budstop-heavy, --and by the way, as to the staking of flowers in general, aword with you later on. 

In the greenhouse, pinks are liable to many ailments, and several ofthese follow them out-of-doors, three having given me some trouble, themost fatal being of a fungoid order, due usually to unhealthy rootconditions or an excess of moisture. 

_Rust_ is one of these, its Latin name being too long for the simplevocabulary of The Garden, You, and I. It first shows itself in a brownspot that seems to have worked out from the inner part of the leaf. Sometimes it can be conquered by snipping the infected leaves, but if itseizes an entire bed, the necessary evil of spraying with Bordeauxmixture must be resorted to, as in the case of fungus-spottedhollyhocks. 

_Thrip_, the little transparent, whitish fly, will sometimes botherborder carnations in the same way as it does roses. If the flowers areonly in bud, I sprinkle them with my brass rose-atomizer and powderslightly with helebore. But if the flowers are open, sprinkling andshaking alone may be resorted to. For the several kinds of undergroundworms that trouble pinks, of which the wireworm is the chief, I havefound a liberal use of unslaked lime and bone-dust in the preparation ofthe soil before planting the best preventive. 

Other ailments have appeared only occasionally. Sometimes an apparentlyhealthy, full-grown plant will suddenly wither away, or else swell upclose to the ground and finally burst so that the sap leaks out and itdies like a punctured or girdled tree. The first trouble may come fromthe too close contact of fresh manure, which should be kept away fromthe main roots of carnations, as from contact with lily bulbs. 

As to the swelling called _gout_, there is no cure, so do not temporize. Pull up the plant at once and disinfect the spot with unslaked lime andsulphur. 

Thus, Mary Penrose, may you have either pinks in your garden or a gardenof pinks, whichever way you may care to develop your idea. "A deal oftrouble?" Y-e-s; but then only think of the flowers that crown the work, and you might spend an equal amount of time in pricking cloth with asteel splinter and embroidering something, in the often taken-in-vainname of decorative art, that in the end is only an elaboratedrag--without even the bone and the hank of hair!

XVI

THE FRAME OF THE PICTURE

VINES AND SHRUBS

(Mary Penrose to Barbara Campbell)

_Woodridge, September 10. _ Your chronicle of the Pink Family found me bymyself in camp, dreaming away as vigorously as if it was a necessary andpractical occupation. After all, are we sure that it is not, in a way, both of these? This season my dreams of night have been so long thatthey have lingered into the things of day and _vice versa_, and yetneither the one nor the other have whispered of idleness, but theendless hope of work. 

Bart's third instalment of vacation ends to-morrow, though we shallcontinue to sleep out of doors so long as good weather lasts; theremaining ten days we are saving until October, when the finaltransplanting of trees and shrubs is to be made; and in addition tothose for the knoll we have marked some shapely dogwoods, hornbeams, andtulip trees for grouping in other parts of the home acres. There arealso to be had for the digging good bushes of the early pink and clammywhite azalea, mountain-laurel, several of the blueberry tribe, that havewhite flowers in summer and glorious crimson foliage in autumn, white-flowered elder, button-bush, groundsel tree, witchhazel, bayberry, the shining-leaved sumach, the white meadow-sweet, and pink steeplebush, besides a number of cornels and viburnums suitable for shrubberies. As Iglance over the list of what the river and quarry woods have yielded us, it is like reading from the catalogue of a general dealer in hardyplants, and yet I suppose hundreds of people have as much almost attheir doors, if they did but know it. 

The commercial side of a matter of this kind is not the one upon whichto dwell the most, except upon the principle of the old black woman whosaid, "Chillun, count yer marcies arter every spell o' pain!" andto-day, in assaying our mercies and the various advantages of our gardenvacation, I computed that the trees, shrubs, ferns, herbaceous wildflowers, and vines (yes, we have included vines, of which I must tellyou), if bought of the most reasonable of dealers, would have cost us atleast three hundred dollars, without express or freight charges. 

The reason for my being by myself at this particular moment is thatBart, mounted on solemn Romeo, has taken the Infant, astride herdiminutive pony, by a long leader, for a long-promised ride up the riverroad, the same being the _finale_ of the celebration of his birthday, that began shortly after daylight. The Infant, in order to be earlyenough to give him the first of his thirty-three kisses, came the nightbefore, and though she has camped out with us at intervals all summer, the novelty has not worn off. She has a happy family of pets that, without being caged or in any way coerced or confined, linger about theold barn, seem to watch for her coming, and expect their daily rations, even though they do not care to be handled. 

Punch and Judy, the gray squirrels of the dovecote, perch upon hershoulders and pry into the pockets of her overalls for nuts or kernelsof corn, all the while keeping a bright eye upon Reddy, the setter pup, who, though he lies ever so sedately, nose between paws, they well knowis not to be trusted. While as for birds, all the season we have hadchipping-sparrows, catbirds, robins, and even a wood-thrush, leader ofthe twilight orchestra, all of whom the little witch has tempted in turnby a bark saucer spread with leaves and various grains and smallfruits, from strawberries to mulberries, for which she has had a dailyhunt through the Opal Farm land the season through. 

Toward the English sparrow she positively declines to harden her heart, in spite of my having repeated the story of its encroachments andcrimes. She listens and merely shakes her head, saying, "We 'vited themto come, didn't we, mother? When we 'vites people, we always feed 'em;'sides, they're the only ones'll let me put them in my pocket, " which isperfectly true, for having learned this warm abiding-place of much oatsand cracked corn, they follow her in a flock, and a few confidingspirits allow themselves to be handled. 

At the birthday dinner party, arranged by the Infant, a number of theseguests were present. We must have looked a motley crew, in whose companyOld King Cole himself would have been embarrassed, for Bart wore awreath of pink asters, while a gigantic sunflower made my head-dress, and the cake, made and garnished with red and white peppermints, anAmerican and an Irish flag, by Anastasia, was mounted firmly upon amiscellaneous mass of flowers, with a superstructure of small yellowtomatoes, parsley, young carrots, and beets, the colour of thesevegetables having caught the Infant's eye. 

The pony, Ginger, had a basket of second-crop clover flowers providedfor him; Reddy some corned-beef hash, his favourite dish, coaxed fromAnastasia; while for Punch, Judy, and as many of their children as wouldventure down from the rafters, the Infant had compounded a wonderfulsalad of mixed nuts and corn. As the Infant ordained that "the childrensshan't tum in 'til d'sert, " we had the substantial part of our meal inpeace; but the candles were no sooner blown out and the cake cut thanGinger left his clover to nibble the young carrots, the squirrels gotinto the nut dish bodily and began sorting over the nuts to find thosethey liked best, with such vigour that the others flew in our faces, andReddy fell off the box upon which the Infant had balanced him withdifficulty, nearly carrying the table-cloth with him, while at thismoment, the feast becoming decidedly crumby, we were surrounded by theentire flock of English sparrows!

 * * * * *

Now this is not at all what I started to tell you; quite the contrary. Please forgive this domestic excursion into the land of maternal prideand happenings. What I meant to write of was my conviction, that camethrough sitting on the hay rafters and looking down upon the garden, that as a beautiful painting is improved by proper framing, so shouldthe garden be enclosed at different points by frames, to focus the eyeupon some central object. 

Though the greater part of the garden is as yet only planned and merelyenough set out in each part to fix special boundaries, as in the case ofthe rose bed, I realize that as a whole it is too open and lacksperspective. You see it all at once; there are no breaks. No matter inwhat corner scarlet salvia and vermilion nasturtiums may be planted, they are sure to get in range with the pink verbenas and magenta phloxin a teeth-on-edge way. 

From other viewpoints the result is no better. Looking from the piazzathat skirts two sides of the house, where we usually spend much time, three portions of the garden are in sight at once, and all on differentplanes, without proper separating frames; the rose garden is near athand, the old borders leading to the sundial being at right angles withit. At the right, the lower end of the knoll and the gap with its bed ofheliotrope are prominent, while between, at a third distance, is theproposed location of the white-birch screen, the old wall rockery, etc. The rockery and rose garden are in their proper relation, but the otherportions should be given perspective by framing, and the result of myday-dreams is that this, according to nature, should be done by thegrouping of shrubs and the drapery of vines. 

I now for the first time fully understand the uses of the pergola inlandscape gardening, the open sides of which form a series ofvine-draped frames. I had always before thought it a stiff andartificial sort of arrangement, as well as the tall clipped yews, laureltrees in tubs, and marble vases and columns that are parts of the usualframework of the more formal gardens. And while these things would bedecidedly out of place in gardens of our class, and at best could onlybe indulged in via white-painted wooden imitations, the woman who is herown gardener may exercise endless skill in bringing about equally goodresults with the rustic material at hand and by following wild nature, who, after all, is the first model. 

[Illustration: THE SILVER MAPLE BY THE LANE GATE. ]

I think I hear Evan laughing at my preachment concerning his specialart, but the comprehension of it has all come through looking at thenatural landscape effects that have happened at Opal Farm owing to thefact that the hand of man has there been stayed these many years. Oneither side of the rough bars leading between our boundary wall and themeadow stands a dead cedar tree, from which the dry, moss-coveredbranches have been broken by the loads of hay that used to be gatheredup at random and carted out this way. Wild birds doubtless used thesebranches as perches of vantage from which they might view the country, both during feeding excursions and in migration, and thus have sown theseed of their provender, for lo and behold, around the old trees havegrown vines of wild grapes, with flowers that perfume the entire meadowin June. Here the woody, spiral-climbing waxwork holds aloft itsclusters of berries that look like bunches of miniature lemons until onbeing ripe they open and show the coral fruit; Virginia creeper of thefive-pointed fingers, clinging tendrils, glorious autumn colour, andspreading clusters of purple blackberries, and wild white clematis, the"traveller's joy" of moist roadside copses, all blending together andstretching out hands, until this season being undisturbed, they haveclasped to form a natural arch of surpassing beauty. 

Having a great pile of cedar poles, in excess of the needs of all ourother projects, my present problem is to place a series of simple archesconstructed on this natural idea, that shall frame the different gardenvistas from the best vantage-point. Rustic pillars, after the plan ofEvan's that you sent me for the corners of the rose garden, will givethe necessary formal touch, while groups of shrubs can be so placed asnot only to screen colours that should not be seen in combination, butto make reasons for turns that would otherwise seem arbitrary. 

Aunt Lavinia has promised me any number of Chinese honeysuckle vinesfrom the little nursery bed of rooted cuttings that is MartinCortright's special province, for she writes me that they began withthis before having seed beds for either hardy plants or annuals, as theywished to have hedges of flowering shrubs in lieu of fences, and somefine old bushes on the place furnished ample cuttings of theold-fashioned varieties, which they have supplemented. 

Aunt Lavinia also says that the purple Wisteria grows easily from thebeanlike seed and blossoms in three years, and that she has a dozen ofthese two-year-old seedlings that she will send me as soon as I haveplace for them. Remembering your habit of giving every old tree a vineto comfort its old age, and in particular the silver maple by the lanegate of your garden, with its woodpecker hole and swinging garnitureof Wisteria bloom, I have promised a similar cloak to a gnarled birdcherry that stands midway in the fence rockery, and yet another to anattenuated poplar, so stripped of branches as to be little more than apole and still keeping a certain dignity. 

[Illustration: A CURTAIN TO THE SIDE PORCH. ]

The honeysuckles I shall keep for panelling the piazza, they are suchclean vines and easily controlled; while on the two-story portion underthe guest-room windows some Virginia creepers can be added to make acurtain to the side porch. 

As for other vines, we have many resources. Festooned across the frontstoop at Opal Farm is an old and gigantic vine of the scarlet-and-orangetrumpet creeper, that has overrun the shed, climbed the side of thehouse, and followed round the rough edges of the eaves, while allthrough the grass of the front yard are seedling plants of the vinethat, in spring, are blended with tufts of the white star of Bethlehemand yellow daffies. 

In the river woods, brush and swamp lots, near by, we have found andmarked for our own the mountain fringe with its feathery foliage andwhite flowers shaded with purple pink, that suggest both the bleedingheart of gardens and the woodland Dutchman's breeches. It grows in greatstrings fourteen or fifteen feet in length and seems as trainable assmilax or the asparagus vine. Here are also woody trailers of moonseed, with its minute white flowers in the axils of leaves that might pass atfirst glance for one of the many varieties of wild grapes; the hyacinthbean, with its deliciously fragrant chocolate flowers tinged withviolet, that is so kind in covering the unsightly underbrush of dampplaces. And here, first, last, and always, come the wild grapes, showingso many types of leaf and fruit, from the early ripening summer grape ofthe high-climbing habit, having the most typical leaf and thin-skinned, purple berries, that have fathered so many cultivated varieties; thefrost grape, with its coarsely-toothed, rather heart-shaped, pointedleaf and small black berries, that are uneatable until after frost (andrather horrid even then); to the riverside grape of the glossy leaf, fragrant blossoms and fruit. 

One thing must be remembered concerning wild grapes: they should beplanted, if in the open sunlight, where they will be conspicuous up tolate summer only, as soon after this time the leaves begin to growrusty, while those in moist and partly-shady places hold their own. Ithink this contrast was borne in upon me by watching a mass ofgrape-vines upon a tumble-down wall that we pass on our way to theriver woods. In August the leaves began to brown and curl at the edges, while similar vines in the cool lane shade were still green and growing. So you see, Mrs. Evan, that, in addition to our other treasure-trove, weare prepared to start a free vinery as well, and as our lucky star seemsto be both of morning and evening and hangs a long while in the sky, Meyer, Larry's successor, we find, has enough of a labourer's skill atpost setting and a carpenter's eye and hand at making an angled arch(this isn't the right term, but you know what I mean), so that we havenot had to pause in our improvements owing to Amos Opie's rheumaticillness. 

Not that I think the old man _very_ ill, and I believe he could getabout more if he wished, for when I went down to see him this morning, he seemed to have something on his mind, and with but little urging hetold me his dilemma. Both _The Man from Everywhere_ and Maria Maxwellhave made him good offers for his farm, _The Man's_ being the first! Nowhe had fully determined to sell to _The Man_, when Maria's kindnessduring his illness not only turned him in her favour, but gave him anattachment for the place, so that now he doesn't really wish to sell atall! It is this mental perturbation, in his very slow nature, that is, I believe, keeping him an invalid!

_What_ Maria wants of the farm neither Bart nor I can imagine. She has alittle property, a few thousand dollars, enough probably to buy the farmand put it in livable repair, but this money we thought she was savingfor the so-called rainy day (which is much more apt to be a very dryperiod) of spinsterhood! Of course she has some definite plan, butwhether it is bees or boarders, jam or a kindergarten, we do not know, but we may be very sure that she is not jumping at random. Only I'm alittle afraid, much as I should like her for a next-door neighbour, that, with her practical head, she would insist upon making hay of thelily meadow!

"Straying away again from the horticultural to the domestic things, " Ihear you say. Yes; but now that the days are shortening a bit, it seemsnatural to think more about people again. If I only knew whether Mariameans to give up her teaching this winter, I would ask her to stay withus and begin to train the Infant's mind in the way it should think, formy head and hands will be full and my heart overflowing, I imagine. Ah!this happy, blessed summer! Yes, I know that you know, though I havenever told you. That's what it means to have real friends. But to theshrubs. 

Will you do me one more favour before even the suspicion of frosttouches my enthusiasm, that I may have everything in order in my _GardenBoke_ against a planting season when Time may again hold his remorselesssway. This list of eighteen or more shrubs is made from those I know andlike, with selections from that Aunt Lavinia sent me. Is itcomprehensive, think you? Of course we cannot go into novelties in thisdirection, any more than we may with the roses. 

There is the little pale pink, Daphne Mezereum, that flowers before itsleaves come in April. I saw it at Aunt Lavinia's and Mrs. Marchant had agreat circle of the bushes. Then Forsythias, with yellow flowers, thered and pink varieties of Japanese quince, double-flowering almond andplum, the white spireas (they all have strange new names in thecatalogue), the earliest being what mother used to call bridal-wreath(_prunifolia_), with its long wands covered with double flowers, liketiny white daisies, the St. Peter's wreath (_Van Houttei_) with theclustered flowers like small white wild roses, two pink species, Billardii and Anthony Waterer, beautiful if gathered before the flowersopen, as the colour fades quickly, and a little dwarf bush, Fortune'swhite spirea, that I have seen at the florist's. Next the old-fashionedpurple lilac, that seems to hold its own against all newcomers forgarden use, the white tree lilac, the fragrant white mock orange orsyringa (_Coronarius_), the Japanese barberry of yellow flowers andcoral berries, the three deutzias, two being the tall _crenata_ and_scabra_ and the third the charming low-growing _gracilis_, theold-fashioned snowball or Guelder rose (_viburnum opulus sterilis_), theweigelias, rose-pink and white, the white summer-flowering hydrangea(_paniculata grandiflora_), and the brown-flowered, sweet-scentedstrawberry shrub (_calycanthus floridus_). 

"Truly a small slice from the loaf the catalogues offer, " you say. Yes;but you must remember that our wild nursery has a long chain to add tothese. 

In looking over the list of shrubs, it seems to me that the majority ofthem, like the early wild flowers, are white, but then it is almost asimpossible to have too many white flowers as too many green leaves. 

_September 15. _ I was prevented from finishing this until to-day, when Ihave a new domestic event to relate. Maria, no longer a music mistress, has leased the Opal Farm, it seems, and will remain with me this winterpending the repairing of the house, which Amos Opie himself is tosuperintend. I wish I could fathom the ins and outs of the matter, whichare not at present clear, but probably I shall know in time. Meanwhile, I have Maria for a winter companion, and a mystery to solve and puzzleabout; is not this truly feminine bliss?

XVII

THE INS AND OUTS OF THE MATTER

Chronicled by the rays of light and sound waves upon the walls of thehouse at Opal Farm. 

PEOPLE INVOLVED

 _The Man from Everywhere_, keeping bachelor's hall in the eastern half of the farm home. 

 _Amos Opie_, living in the western half of the house, the separating door being locked on his side. 

 _Maria Maxwell_, who, upon hearing Opie is again ill, has dropped in to give him hot soup and medicine. 

Amos Opie was more than usually uncomfortable this particular Septemberevening. It may have been either a rather sudden change in the weatheror the fact that now that he was sufficiently well to get about thekitchen and sit in the well-house porch, of a sunny morning, MariaMaxwell had given up the habit of running over several times a day togive him his medicine and be sure that the kettle boiled and his tea wasfreshly drawn, instead of being what she called "stewed bitterness" thathad stood on the leaves all day. 

Whichever it was, he felt wretched in body and mind, and began to thinkhimself neglected and was consequently aggrieved. He hesitated a fewminutes before he opened the door leading to _The Man's_ part of thehouse, took a few steps into the square hall, and called "Mr. Blake" ina quavering voice; but no answer came, as the bachelor had not yetreturned from the reservoir. 

Going back, he settled heavily into the rocking-chair and groaned, --itwas not from real pain, simply he had relaxed his grip and was makinghimself miserable, --then he began to talk to himself. 

"_She_ doesn't come in so often now _he's_ come home, and _he_ fightsshy o' the place, thinkin' mebbe _she's_ around, and they both wants tobuy. _He's_ offered me thirty-five hundred cash, and _she's_ offered methirty hundred cash, which is all the place's worth, for it'll takeanother ten hundred to straighten out the house, with new winder frames, floorin' 'nd plaster 'nd shingles, beams and sills all bein'sound, --when the truth is I don't wish ter sell nohow, yet can't affordto hold! I don't see light noway 'nd I'm feelin' another turn comin'when I was nigh ready ter git about agin to Miss'ss Penrose flowerpoles. O lordy! lordy! I wish I had some more o' that settling medicineMaria Maxwell brought me" (people very seldom spoke of that young womanexcept by her complete name). "If I had my wind, I'd yell over to her tocome up! Yes, I vow I would!"

David, the hound, who had been lying asleep before the stove, in whichthe fire had died away, got up, stretched himself, and, going to hismaster, after gazing in his face for several minutes, licked his handsthoroughly and solemnly, in a way totally different from the carelessand irresponsible licks of a joyous dog; then raising his head gave along-drawn bay that finally broke from its melancholy music anddegenerated into a howl. 

Amos must have dozed in his chair, for it seemed only a moment when aknock sounded on the side door and, without waiting for a reply, MariaMaxwell entered, a cape thrown about her shoulders, a lantern in onehand, and in the other a covered pitcher from which steam was curling. 

"I heard David howling and I went to our gate to look; I saw that therewasn't a light in the farm-house and so knew that something was thematter. No fire in the stove and the room quite chilly! Where is thatneighbour of yours in the other half of the house? Couldn't he havebrought you in a few sticks?"

"He isn't ter hum just now, " replied Amos, in tones that wereunnecessarily feeble, while at the same time an idea entered his brainthat almost made him chuckle; but the sound which was quenched in histhroat only came to Maria as an uncomfortable struggle for breath thathastened her exit to the woodpile by the side fence for the material torevive the fire. In going round the house, her arms laden with logs, shebumped into the figure of _The Man_ leading his bicycle across thegrass, which deadened his footfall, as the lantern she carried blindedher to all objects not within its direct rays. 

"Maria Maxwell! Is Opie ill again? You must not carry such a heavyload!" he exclaimed all in one breath, as he very quickly transferredthe logs to his own arms, and was making the fire in the open stovealmost before she had regained the porch, so that when she had lighted alamp and drawn the turkey-red curtains, the reflections of the flamesbegan to dance on the wall and cheerfulness suddenly replaced gloom. 

Still Amos sat in an attitude of dejection. Thanking _The Man_ for hisaid, but taking no further notice of him, Maria began to heat the brothwhich was contained in the pitcher, asking Amos at the same time if hedid not think that he would feel better in bed. 

"I dunno's place has much to do with it, " he grumbled; "this can't go onno longer, it's doing for me, that it is!"

Maria, thinking that he referred to bodily illness, hastened thepreparations for bed, and _The Man_, feeling helpless as all men do whensomething active is being done in which they have no part, rose to go, and, with his hand on the latch of the porch door, said in a low voice:"If I might help you in any way, I should be very glad; I do not quitelike leaving you alone with this old fellow, --you may need help ingetting him to bed. Tell me frankly, would you like me to stay?"

"Frankly I would rather you would not, " said Maria, yet in so cordial atone that no offence could be gathered from it in any way. 

So the door opened and closed again and Maria began the rather laborioustask of coaxing the old man to bed. When once there, the medicine given, and the soup taken, which she could not but notice that he swallowedgreedily, she seated herself before the fire, resolving that, if Amosdid not feel better by nine o'clock, she would have Barney come over forthe night, as of course she must return to be near the Infant. 

As she sat there she pictured for the hundredth time how she wouldinvest her little capital and rearrange her life, if Amos consented tosell her the farm, --how best to restore the home without elaborating thecare of it, and take one or two people to live with her who had been illor needed rest in cheerful surroundings. Not always the same two, forthat is paralyzing after a time when the freshness of energeticinfluence wears off; but her experience among her friends told her thatin a city's social life there was an endless supply of overwroughtnerves and bodies. 

The having a home was the motive, the guests the necessity. Then sheclosed her eyes again and saw the upper portion of the rich meadow landthat had lain fallow so long turned into a flower farm wherein she wouldraise blossoms for a well-known city dealer who had, owing to hisartistic skill, a market for his wares and decorative skill in all thecities of the eastern coast. She had consulted him and he approved herplan. 

The meadow was so sheltered that it would easily have a two weeks' leadover the surrounding country, and the desirability of her crop shouldlie in its perfection rather than rarity. Single violets in frames, lilies-of-the-valley for Easter and spring weddings, sweet peas, inseparate colours, peonies, Iris, Gladioli, asters, and Dahlias: threeacres in all. Upon these was her hope built, for with a market waiting, what lay between her and success but work?

Yes, work and the farm. Then came the vision of human companionship, such as her cousin Bartram and Mary Penrose shared. Could flowers and ahome make up for it? After all, what is home?

Her thoughts tangled and snapped abruptly, but of one thing she wassure. She could no longer endure teaching singing to assorted tone-deafchildren, many of whom could no more keep on the key than a cow on thetight rope; and when she found a talented child and gave it appreciativeattention, she was oftentimes officially accused of favouritism by somedisgruntled parent with a political pull, for that was what contact withthe public schools of a large city had taught her to expect. 

A log snapped--she looked at the clock. It was exactly nine! Going tothe window, she pulled back the curtain; the old moon, that has afashion of working northward at this time, was rising from a locationwholly new to her. 

She looked at Amos; he was very still, evidently asleep, yetunnaturally so, for the regular breathing of unconsciousness was notthere and the firelight shadows made him look pinched and strange. Suddenly she felt alone and panic stricken; she forgot the tests so wellknown to her of pulse taking, and all the countryside tales of strokesand seizures came back to her. She did not hesitate a moment; a man wasin the same house and she felt entirely outside of the strength of herown will. 

Going to the separating door, she found it locked, on which side shecould not be sure; but seeing a long key hanging by the clock she triedit, on general principles. It turned hard, and the lock finally yieldedwith a percussive snap. Stepping into the hall, she saw a light in thefront of the house, toward which she hurried. _The Man_ was seated by atable that was strewn with books, papers, and draughting instruments; hewas not working, but in his turn gazing at the flames from a smoulderinghearth fire, though his coat was off and the window open, for it was notcold but merely chilly. 

Hearing her step, he started, turned, and, as he saw her upon thethreshold, made a grab for his coat and swung it into place. It isstrange, this instinct in civilized man of not appearing coatlessbefore a woman he respects. 

"Amos Opie is very ill, I'm afraid, " she said gravely, without the leastself-consciousness or thought of intrusion. 

"Shall I go for the doctor?" said _The Man_, reaching for his hat and atthe same time opening the long cupboard by the chimney, from which hetook a leather-covered flask. 

"No, not yet; please come and look at him. Yes, I want you very much!"This in answer to a questioning look in his eyes. 

Standing together by the bed, they saw the old man's eyelids quiver andthen open narrowly. _The Man_ poured whiskey from his flask into aglass, added water, and held it to Amos's lips, where it was quickly andcompletely absorbed!

Next he put a finger on Amos's pulse and after a minute closed his watchwith a snap, but without comment. 

"You feel better now, Opie?" he questioned presently in a tone that, tothe old man at least, was significant. 

"What gave you this turn? Is there anything on your mind? You might aswell tell now, as you will have to sooner or later, and Miss Maxwellmust go home presently. You'll have to put up with me for the rest ofthe night and a man isn't as cheerful a companion as a woman--is he, Amos?"

"No, yer right there, Mr. Blake, and it's the idee o' loneliness that'supsettin' me! Come down ter facts, Mr. Blake, it's the offers I've hadfer the farm--yourn and hern--and my wishin' ter favour both and yet notgive it up myself, and the whole's too much fer me!"

"Hers! Has Miss Maxwell made a bid for the farm? What do you want itfor?" he said, turning quickly to Maria, who coloured and then repliedquietly--"To live in! which is exactly what you said when I asked you asimilar question a couple of months ago!"

"The p'int is, " continued Amos, quickly growing more wide awake, andaddressing the ceiling as a neutral and impartial listener, "that Mr. Blake has offered me five hundred more than Maria Maxwell, and though Iwant ter favour her (in buyin', property goes to the highest bidder;it's only contract work that's fetched by the lowest, and I never didwork by contract--it's too darned frettin'), I can't throw away goodmoney, and neither of 'em yet knows that whichsomever of 'em buys ithas got ter give me a life right ter live in the summer kitchen andfetch my drinkin' water from the well in the porch! A lone widder man'sa sight helplesser 'n a widder, but yet he don't get no sympathy!"

_The Man from Everywhere_ began to laugh, and catching Maria's eye shejoined him heartily. "How do you mean to manage?" he asked in a way thatbarred all thought of intrusion. 

"I'm going to have a flower farm and take in two invalids--no, notcranks or lunatics, but merely tired people, " she added, a little catchcoming in her voice. 

"Then you had better begin with me, for I'm precious tired of takingcare of myself, and here is Amos also applying, so I do not see but whatyour establishment is already complete!"

Then, as he saw by her face that the subject was not one for jest, hesaid, in his hearty way that Mary Penrose likes, "Why not let me buy theplace, as mine was the first offer, put it in order, and then lease itto you for three years, with the privilege of buying if you find thatyour scheme succeeds? If the house is too small to allow two lone men aroom each, I can add a lean-to to match Opie's summer kitchen, for youknow sometimes a woman finds it comfortable to have a man in the house!"

Maria did not answer at first, but was looking at the one uncurtainedwindow, where the firelight again made opals of the panes. Then turning, she said, "I will think over your offer, Mr. Blake, if everything may beupon a strictly business basis. But how about Amos? He seems better, andI ought to be going. I do not know why I should have been so foolish, but for a moment he did not seem to breathe, and I thought it was astroke. "

"I'm comin' too all in good time, now my mind's relieved, " replied theold man, with a chuckle, "and I think I'll weather to-night fer the sakeo' fixin' that deed termorrow, Mr. Blake, if you'll kindly give me jesta thimbleful more o' that old liquor o' yourn--I kin manage it fust ratewithout the water, thank 'ee!"

_The Man_ followed Maria to the door and out into the night. He did notask her if he might go with her--he simply walked by her side for onceunquestioned. 

Maria spoke first, and rather more quickly and nervously than usual: "Isuppose you think that my scheme in wishing the farm is a madcap one, but I'm sure I could not see why you should wish to own it!"

"Yes and no! I can well understand why you should desire a broader, freer life than your vocation allows, but--well, as for reading women'smotives, I have given that up long since; it often leads to troublethough I have never lost my interest in them. 

"I think Amos Opie will revive, now that his mind is settled" (if it hadbeen sufficiently light, Maria would have seen an expression upon _TheMan's_ face indicative of his belief that the recent attack of illnesswas not quite motiveless, even though he forgave the ruse). "In a fewdays, when the deeds are drawn, will you not, as my prospective tenant, come and look over the house by daylight and tell me what changes wouldbest suit your purpose, so that I may make some plans? I imagine thatAmos revived will be able to do much of the work himself with a goodassistant. 

"When would you like the lease to begin? In May? It is a pity that youcould not be here in the interval to overlook it all, for the pastureshould be ploughed at once for next year's gardening. "

"May will be late; best put it at the first of March. As to overseeing, I shall not be far away. I'm thinking of accepting cousin Mary's offerto stay with her and teach the Infant and a couple of other childrenthis winter, which may be well for superintending the work, as I supposeyou are off again with the swallows, as usual. "

"Oh, no, you forget the reservoir and the tunnelling of Three Brothersfor the aqueduct to Bridgeton!"

"Then let it be March first!" said Maria, after hesitating a moment, during which she stood looking back at Opal Farm lying at peace in themoonlight; "only, in making the improvements, please do them as if forany one else, and remember that it is to be a strictly business affair!"

"And why should you think that I would deal otherwise by you?" _The Man_said quickly, stepping close, where he could see the expression of herface. 

Maria, feeling herself cornered, did not answer immediately, and halfturned her face away, --only for a moment, however. Facing him, she said, "Because men of your stamp are always good to women, --always doing themkindnesses both big and little (ask Mary Penrose), --and sometimeskindness hurts!"

"Well, then, the lease and all pertaining to it shall be strictly in theline of business until you yourself ask for a modification, --but becareful, I may be a hard landlord!" Then, dropping his guard, he saidsuddenly, "Why is it that you and I--man and woman--temperamentallyalike, both interested in the same things, and of an age to know what inlife is worth while, should stand so aloof? Is there no more human basisupon which I can persuade you to come to Opal Farm when it is mine? Giveme a month, three months, --lessen the distance you always keep betweenus, and give me leave to convince you! Why will you insist upondeliberately keeping up a barrier raised in the beginning when I was toostupidly at home in your cousin's house to see that I might embarrassyou? Frankly, do you dislike me?"

Maria began two different sentences, stumbled, and stopped short; thendrawing herself up and looking _The Man_ straight in the face, she said, "I have kept a barrier between us, and deliberately, as you say, but--"here she faltered--"it was because I found you too interesting; thebarrier was to protect my own peace of mind more than to rebuff you. "

"Then I may try to convince you that my plan is best?"

"Yes, " said Maria, with a glint of her mischievous smile, "if you haveplenty of time to spare. "

"And you will give me no more encouragement than this? No good wish oromen?"

"Yes, " said Maria again, "I wish that you may succeed--" here sheslipped her hand in the belt of her gown and drew out a little chamoisbag attached to her watch, "and for an omen, here is the opal you gaveme--you give it a happy interpretation and one is very apt to lose anunset stone, you know!"

But as neither walls nor leaves have tongues, Mary Penrose never learnedthe real ins and outs of this matter. 

XVIII

THE VALUE OF WHITE FLOWERS

(Barbara Campbell to Mary Penrose)

_Oaklands, September 29. _ Michaelmas. The birthdays of our commuters arenot far apart. This being Evan's festival, we have eaten the annualgoose in his honour, together with several highly indigestibleold-country dishes of Martha Corkle's construction, for she comes downfrom the cottage to preside over this annual feast. Now the boys havechallenged Evan to a "golf walk" over the Bluffs and back again, therough-and-ready course extending that distance, and I, being "o'er weeldined, " have curled up in the garden-overlook window of my room to writeto you. 

It has been a good gardener's year, and I am sorry that the fallanemones and the blooming of the earliest chrysanthemums insist upontelling me that it is nearly over, --that is, as far as the reign ofcomplete garden colour is concerned. And amid our vagrant summerwanderings among gardens of high or low degree, no one point has been sorecurrent or interesting as the distribution of colour, and especiallythe dominance of white flowers in any landscape or garden in which theyappear. 

In your last letter you speak of the preponderance of white among theflowering shrubs as well as the early blossoms of spring. That this isthe case is one of the strong points in the decorative value of shrubs, and in listing seeds for the hardy or summer beds or sorting the bushesfor the rosary, great care should be taken to have a liberal sprinklingof white, for the white in the flower kingdom is what the diamond is inthe mineral world, necessary as a setting for all other colours, as wellas for its own intrinsic worth. 

Look at a well-cut sapphire of flawless tint. It is beautiful surely, but in some way its depth of colour needs illumination. Surround it withevenly matched diamonds and at once life enters into it. 

Fill a tall jar with spires of larkspur of the purest blue known togarden flowers. Unless the sun shines fully on them they seem to swallowlight; mingle with them some stalks of white foxgloves, Canterburybells, or surround them with Madonna lilies, a fringe of spirea, or theslender _Deutzia gracilis_, more frequently seen in florists' windowsthan in the garden, and a new meaning is given the blue flower; theblack shadows disappear from its depth and sky reflections replace them. 

The blue-fringed gentian, growing deep among the dark grasses of lowmeadows, may be passed over without enthusiasm as a dull purplish flowerby one to whom its possibilities are unknown; but come upon itbackgrounded by Michaelmas daisies or standing alone in a meadow thickstrewn with the white stars of grass of Parnassus or wands of crystalladies' tresses, and all at once it becomes, --

 "Blue, blue, as if the sky let fall A flower from its cerulean wall!"

The same white setting enhances the brighter colours, though in a lessdegree than blue, which is, next to magenta, one of the most difficultcolours to place in the garden. In view of this fact it is not strangethat it is a comparatively unusual hue in the flower world and a veryrare one among our neighbourly eastern birds, the only three that wearit conspicuously being the bluebird, indigo bird, and the bluejay. 

It is this useful quality as a setting that gives value to many whiteflowers lacking intrinsic beauty, like sweet alyssum, candy-tuft, theyarrows, and the double feverfew. In buying seeds of flowers in mixedvarieties, such as asters, verbenas, Sweet-William, pansies, or anyflower in short that has a white variety, it is always safe to buy asingle packet of the latter, because I have often noticed that the usualmixtures, for some reason, are generally shy not only of the white butoften of the very lightest tints as well. 

In selecting asters the average woman gardener may not be prepared tobuy the eight or ten different types that please her fancy in as manyseparate colours; a mixture of each must suffice, but a packet of whiteof each type should be added if the best results are to be achieved. 

The same applies to sweet peas when planted in mixture; at least sixounces of either pure white or very light, and therefore quasi-neutraltints harmonizing with all darker colours, should be added. For it is inthe lighter tints of this flower that its butterfly characteristics aredeveloped. Keats had not the heavy deep-hued or striped varieties inmind when he wrote of

 "... Sweet Peas on tiptoe for a flight, With wings of gentle flush: o'er delicate white, And taper fingers catching at all things To bind them all about with tiny rings. "

If you examine carefully the "flats" of pansies growing from mixed seedand sold in the market-places or at local florists', you will noticethat in eight out of ten the majority of plants are of the darkercolours. 

There are white varieties of almost every garden flower that bloomsbetween the last frost of spring and winter ice. The snowdrop of courseis white and the tiny little single English violet of brief thoughunsurpassing fragrance; we have white crocuses, white hyacinths, narcissus, lilies-of-the-valley, Iris, white rock phlox, or moss-pink, Madonna and Japan lilies, gladiolus, white campanulas of many species, besides the well-known Canterbury bells, white hollyhocks, larkspurs, sweet Sultan, poppies, phloxes, and white annual as well as hardychrysanthemums. 

Almost all the bedding plants, like the geranium, begonia, ageratum, lobelia, etc. , have white species. There are white pinks of all types, white roses, and wherever crimson rambler is seen Madame Plantier shouldbe his bride; white stocks, hollyhocks, verbenas, zinnias, Japaneseanemones, Arabis or rock cress, and white fraxinella; white Lupins, nicotiana, evening primroses, pentstemons, portulaca, primulas, vincas, and even a whitish nasturtium, though its flame-coloured partner salviadeclines to have her ardour so modified. 

Among vines we have the white wisteria, several white clematis, themoon-flower, and other Ipomeas, many climbing and trailing roses, theEnglish polygonum, the star cucumber, etc. , so that there is no lack ofthis harmonizing and modifying colour (that is not a colour after all)if we will but use it intelligently. 

Aside from the setting of flower to flower, white has another and widerfunction. As applied to the broader landscape it is not only a maker ofperspective, but it often indicates a picture and fairly pulls it fromobscurity, giving the same lifelike roundness that the single white dotlends in portraiture to the correctly tinted but still lifeless eye. 

Take for instance a wide field without groups of trees to divide and letit be covered only with grass, no matter how green and luxuriant, andthere is a monotonous flatness, that disappears the moment the field isblooming with daisies or snowy wild asters. 

Follow the meandering line of a brook through April meadows. Where doesthe eye pause with the greatest sense of pleasure and restfulness? Onthe gold of the marsh marigolds edging the water? or on the silver-whiteplumes of shad-bush that wave and beckon across the marshes, as theystray from moist ground toward the light woods? Could any gay colourwhatsoever compete with the snow of May apple orchards?--the fact thatthe snow is often rose tinged only serving to accentuate the contrastingwhite. 

In the landscape all light tints that at a distance have the value ofwhite are equally to the purpose, and can be used for hedges, boundaries, or what may be called punctuation points. German or EnglishIris and peonies are two very useful plants for this purpose, floweringin May and June and for the rest of the season holding theirsubstantial, well-set-up foliage. These two plants, if they receive evenordinary good treatment, may also be relied upon for masses of uniformbloom held well above the leaves; and while pure white peonies are atrifle monotonous and glaring unless blended with the blush, rose, salmon, and cream tints, there are any number of white iris both talland dwarf with either self-toned flowers, or pencilled, feathered, orbordered with a variety of delicate tints, and others equally valuableof pale shades of lilac or yellow, the recurved falls being of adifferent tint. 

Thus does Nature paint her pictures and give us hints to follow, and yeta certain art phase proclaims Nature's colour combinations crude andrudimentary forsooth!

[Illustration: AN IRIS HEDGE. ]

Nature is never crude except through an unsuccessful human attempt toreproduce the uncopyable. Give one of these critics all the colourcombinations of the evening sky and let him manipulate them with wiresand what a scorched omelet he would make of the most simple and naturalsunset!

While Nature does not locate the different colours on the palette toplease the eye of man, but to carry out the various steps in the greatplan of perpetuation, yet on that score it is all done with a sense ofcolour value, else why are the blossoms of deep woods, as well as thenight-blooming flowers that must lure the moth and insect seekersthrough the gloom, white or light-coloured?

In speaking of white or pale flowers there is one low shrub withevergreen leaves and bluish-white flowers that I saw blooming in massesfor the first time not far from Boston in early May. There was a slighthollow where the sun lay, that was well protected from the wind. Thissloped gently upward toward some birches that margined a pond. Thebirches themselves were as yet but in tassel, the near-by grass wasgreen in spots only, and yet here in the midst of the chill, reluctantpromise of early spring was firmness of leaf and clustered flowers ofalmost hothouse texture and fragrance. Not a single spray or a dozen, but hundreds of them, covered the bushes. 

This shrub is _Daphne cneorum_, a sturdier evergreen cousin of _Daphnemezereum_, that brave-hearted shrub that often by the south wall of mygarden hangs its little pink flower clusters upon bare twigs as early asthe tenth of March. Put it on your list of desirables, for aside fromany other situation it will do admirably to edge laurels orrhododendrons and so bring early colour of the rosy family hue tobrighten their dark glossy leaves, for the sight and the scent thereofmade me resolve to cover a certain nook with it, where the sun lodgesfirst every spring. I am planting mine this autumn, which is necessarywith things of such early spring vitality. 

Another garden point akin to colour value in that it makes or mars has, I may say, run itself into my vision quite sharply and painfully thissummer, and many a time have I rubbed my eyes and looked again in wonderthat such things could be. This is the spoiling of a well-thought-outgarden by the obtrusive staking of its plants. Of course there are manytall and bushy flowers--hollyhocks, golden glow, cosmos--that have notsufficient strength of stem to stand alone when the weight of soakingrain is added to their flowers and the wind comes whirling to challengethem to a dizzy dance, which they cannot refuse, and it inevitably turnstheir heavy heads and leaves them prone. 

[Illustration: DAPHNE CNEORUM. ]

Besides these there are the lower, slender, but top-heavy lilies, gladioli, carnations, and the like, that must not be allowed to soiltheir pretty faces in the mud. A little thinking must be done and stakessuitable to the height and girth of each plant chosen. If the purseallows, green-painted stakes of sizes varying from eighteen inches forcarnations to six feet for Dahlias are the most convenient; but lackingthese, the natural bamboos, that may be bought in bundles by thehundred, in canes of eight feet or more, and afterward cut in lengths tosuit, are very useful, being light, tough, and inconspicuous. 

In supporting a plant, remember that the object is as nearly as possibleto supplement its natural stem. Therefore cut the stake a little shorterthan the top of the foliage and drive it firmly at the back of theplant, fastening the main stem to the stake by loosely woven florist'sstring. 

If, on the other hand, the plant to be supported is a maze of sidebranches, like the cosmos, or individual bushes blended so as to form ahedge, a row of stout poles, also a little lower than the bushes, shouldbe set firmly behind them, the twine being woven carefully in and outamong the larger branches, and then tightened carefully, so that thewhole plant is gradually drawn back and yet the binding string isconcealed. 

If it is possible to locate cosmos, hollyhocks, and Dahlias (especiallyDahlias) in the same place for several successive years, a flankingtrellis fence of light posts, with a single top and bottom rail andpoultry wire of a three inch mesh between, will be found a goodinvestment. Against this the plants may be tethered in several places, and thus not only separate branches can be supported naturally, butindividual flowers as well, in the case of the large exhibition Dahlias. 

[Illustration: A TERRIBLE EXAMPLE!]

Practicable as is the proper carrying out of the matter, in a score ofotherwise admirable gardens we have seen the results of weeks and monthsof preparation either throttled and bound martyrlike to a stake ortwisted and tethered, until the natural, habit of growth was whollychanged. In some cases the plants were so meshed in twine and chokedthat it seemed as if a spiteful fairy had woven a "cat's cradle" overthem or that they had followed out the old proverb and, having beengiven enough rope, literally hanged themselves. In other gardens greenstakes were set at intervals (I noticed it in the case of gladioli andcarnations especially) and strings carried from one stake to the other, leaving each plant in the centre of a twine square, like chessmenimprisoned on the board. But the most terrible example of all was whereeither the owner or the gardener, for they were not one and the same, had purchased a quantity of half-inch pine strips at a lumber yard andproceeded to scatter them about his beds at random, regardless of heightor suitability, very much as if some neighbouring Fourth of Julycelebration had showered the place with rocket sticks. 

If your young German has time in the intervals of tree-planting andtrellis-making, get him to trim some of the cedars of a diameter of twoor three inches and stack them away for Dahlia poles. Next season youwill become a victim of these gorgeous velvet flowers, I foresee, especially as I have fully a barrel of the "potatoes" of some veryhandsome varieties to bestow upon you. Make the most of Meyer, for hewill probably grow melancholy as soon as cool weather sets in and hethinks of winter evenings and a sweetheart he has left in thefatherland!

We have had several Germans and they all had _lieber schatz_, forjealousy or the scorn of whom they had left home, were for the samereason loath to stay away from it, and at the same time, owing tocontending emotions, were unable to work so that they might return. 

Are you not thinking about returning to your indoor bed and board again?With warm weather I fly out of the door as a second nature, but with asmart promise of frost I turn about again and everything--furniture, pictures, books, and the dear people themselves--seems refreshingly newand wholly lovable!

If you are thinking of making out a book list of your needs as an answerto your mother's or your "in-law's" query, "What do you want forChristmas?" write at the beginning--Bailey's _Cyclopædia of AmericanHorticulture_, in red ink. Lavinia and Martin Cortright gave it to uslast Christmas, the clearly printed first edition on substantial paperin four thick volumes, mind you, and it is the referee and court ofappeals of the Garden, You, and I in general and myself in particular. Not only will it tell you everything that you wish or ought to know, butdo it completely and truthfully. In short it is the perfect antidote to_Garden Goozle_!

XIX

PANDORA'S CHEST

(Mary Penrose to Barbara Campbell)

_Woodridge, October 10_. Nearly a month of pen silence on my part, during which I have felt many times as if I must go from one to anotherof our chosen trees in the river woods and shake the leaves down so thatthe transplanting might proceed forthwith, lest the early winter thatAmos Opie predicts both by a goose bone and certain symptoms of his ownshall overtake us. Be this as it may, the leaves thus far prefer theirairy quarters to huddling upon the damp ground. 

However, there is another reason for haste more urgent than the fear offrost--the melancholy vein that you predicted we should find in Meyer isfast developing, and as we wish to have him leave us in a perfectlynatural way, we think it best that his stay shall not be prolonged. Atfirst he seemed not only absorbed by his work and to enjoy the gardenand especially the river woods, but the trees and water rushing by. 

A week ago a change came over him; he became morose and silent, andyesterday when I was admiring, half aloud, the reflection of a beautifulscarlet oak mirrored in the still backwater of the river, he paused inthe kneeling position in which he was loosening the grasp of a whiteflowering dogwood, and first throwing out his arms and then beating hischest with them, exclaimed--"Other good have trees and water than forthe eye to see; they can surely hang and drown the man the heart of whomholds much sorrow, and that man is I!"

Of course I knew that it was something a little out of the ordinarystate of affairs that had sent a man of his capability to tramp about asa vagrant sort of labourer, but I had no previous idea that melancholyhad taken such a grip upon him. Much do I prefer Larry, with periods ofhilarity ending in peaceful "shlape. " Certain peoples have theirpeculiar racial characteristics, but after all, love of an occasionaldrink seems a more natural proposition than a tendency to suicide, whileas to the relative value of the labour itself, that is always anindividual not a racial matter. 

I too am feeling the domestic lure of cooler weather. All the day I wishto be in the open, but when the earlier twilight closes in, the house, with its lamps, hearth fires, and voices, weaves a new spell about me, though having once opened wide the door of outdoors it can never beclosed. 

Do you remember the _Masque of Pandora_, and the mysterious chest?

 "_Pandora_ Hast thou never Lifted the lid?

 _Epimetheus_ The oracle forbids. Safely concealed there from all mortal eyes Forever sleeps the secret of the Gods. Seek not to know what they have hidden from thee Till they themselves reveal it. "

Bart was reading it aloud to me last night. Prose read aloud alwaysfrets me, because one's mind travels so much faster than the spokenwords and arrives at the conclusion, even if not always the right one, long before the printed climax is reached; but with good poetry it isdifferent--the thoughts are so crystallized that the sound of amelodious voice liberates them more swiftly. 

Verily Pandora's Chest has been opened this season here in the garden;the gods were evidently not unwilling and turned the lock for me, thoughperhaps I have thrown back the cover too rashly, for out has flown, instead of dire disaster, ambition in a flock of winged ideals, hopes, and wishes masquerading cleverly as necessities, that will keep me alertin trying to overtake and capture them all my life long. 

Last night, once again comfortably settled in the den, we took inventoryof the season's doings, and unlike most ventures, find there is nothingto write upon the nether page that records loss. Of the money set asidefor the improvement of the knoll half yet remains, allowing for thefinishing of the tree transplanting. Into this remainder we arepreparing to tuck the filling for the rose bed, a goodly store of lilybulbs, some flowering shrubs, an openwork wire fence to be avine-covered screen betwixt us and the road, instead of the brokenrattling pickets, a new harness for Romeo to wear when he returns home, as a thank offering for his comfortable services (really the bridle ofthe old one is quite scratched to bits upon the various trees and roughfence rails to which he has been tethered), and last of all, what do youthink? Three guesses may be easily wasted without hitting the mark, forinstead of, as we expected, tearing down the old barn, our summer camp, we are going to remodel it to be a permanent outdoor shelter. It is tohave a wide chimney and fireplace at one end, before which our beds maybe drawn campfire fashion if it is too cool, and adjustable shutters sothat it may be either merely a roof or a fairly substantial cabin and atall possible seasons a study and playroom for us all. Then too we shalloverlook "Maria Maxwell's Experiment, " as Bart calls her scheme ofrunning the Opal Farm. We were heartily glad to know that she had leasedand not bought it, but we were much surprised to learn, first throughthe village paper, and not the man and woman concerned, that "Mr. RossBlake, the engineer in charge of the construction of the new reservoir, believing in the future of the real-estate boom in Woodridge (we didn'tknow there was one), has recently purchased the Amos Opie farm as aninvestment, the deed being to-day recorded in the town house. He hasalready leased it for a young ladies' seminary, pending its remodelling, for which he himself is drawing the plans. "

Dear _Man from Everywhere!_ much as I like Maria, I think he would bethe more restful neighbour of the two. What a complete couple they mighthave made, but that is a bit of drift thought that I have put out of myhead, for if any two people ever had a chance this summer to fall inlove if they had the capacity, it was Maria and _The Man_, and thestrange part of it is that as far as may be known neither is nourishingthe sentiment of a melancholy past and no other present man or womanstands between; perhaps it is some uncanny Opal spell that stays them. Yet even as it is, in this farm restoration both are unconsciouslypreparing to take a peep into Pandora's Chest full of the unknown, solet us hope the gods are willing. 

_Hallowe'en. _ The Infant and Anastasia, her memories revived by Larry'svoluble and personally adapted folk-lore, are preparing all sorts oftraps and feasts for good luck and fairies, while Lady Lazy is contentto look at the log fire and plan for putting the garden to sleep. Yesterday I finished taking up my collection of peonies, Iris, and hardychrysanthemums that had been "promised" at various farm gardens beyondthe river woods, and duly cleared off my indebtednesses for the samewith a varied assortment of articles ranging from gladioli bulbs, whichseem to multiply by cube root here, to a pair of curling tongs, anarticle long coveted by a simple-minded woman of more than middle age, for the resuscitation of her Sunday front locks, and which thoughwilling to acquire by barter she, as a deacon's wife, had a prejudiceagainst buying openly over the counter. 

Meyer has gone, having relapsed into comparative cheerfulness a few daysbefore his departure on the receipt of a bulky letter which, in spite ofthe wear and tear of travel, remained heavily scented, coupled withBart's assurance that he could remain in America another four weeks andstill be at a certain Baltic town of an unpronounceable name in time forChristmas. 

In spite of heavy frosts my pansies are a daily cheer, but it is reallyof no use for even the flowers of very hardy plants to struggle onagainst nature's decree of a winter sleeping time; the wild animals allcome more or less under its spell, and the dogs, the nearest creaturesof all to man, as soon as snow covers the ground and they have theirexperience of ice-cut feet, drowse as near the fire as possible and incase of a stove almost under it. I wonder if nature did not intend thatwe also should have at least a half-drowsy brooding time, instead ofmaking the cold season so often a period of stress and strain and shortdays stretched into long nights. If so, we have taken the responsibilityof acting for ourselves, of flying in nature's face in this as in manyother ways. 

Does it ever seem to you strange that our contrariness began within theyear of our legendary creation, when Eve came to misery not by gazing ina bonnet shop, but when innocently wandering in her garden, the mostbeautiful of earth? By which we women gardeners should all take warning, for though the Tree of Life may be found in every garden, "Yet sin and sorrow's pedigree Spring from a garden and a tree. "

_December 10. _ Snow a month earlier than last year, but we rejoice init, for it will keep the winds from the roots of the trees not yetwholly settled and comfortable in their new homes. The young hemlocksare bewitching in their wreaths and garlands, and one or two older treesgive warmth to the woods beyond the Opal Farm and sweep the low, snow-covered meadow, that looks like a crystal lake, with their featherybranches. The cedars were beautiful in the May woods and so are theynow, where I see them through the gap standing sentinels against thewhite of the brush lot. It seems to me that we cannot have too manyevergreens any more than we can have too much cheerfulness. 

[Illustration: THE LOW, SNOW-COVERED MEADOW THAT LOOKS LIKE A CRYSTAL LAKE. Copyright, 1902, H. Hendrickson]

There are no paths in the garden now, a hint that our feet must travelelsewhere for a time, and I confess that Lady Lazy has not yetredeemed herself, and at present likes her feet to fall upon soft rugs. The Infant's gray squirrels, Punch and Judy, and the persistent sparrowshave found their way to the house, taking their daily rations from theroof of the shed. Punch, stuffed to repletion, has a _cache_ under theold syringa bushes, the sparrows seeming to escort him in his travels toand fro, but whether for companionship or in hope of gain, who can say?

The plans for the remodelling of Opal Farm-house are really veryattractive and yet it will be delightfully simple to care for. Maria and_The Man_ have agreed better about them than over anything I have everheard them discuss; but then, as it is purely a business arrangement, Isuppose that Maria feels free from her usual pernickety restraint. 

We surmise that either she has much more laid by than we supposed or sheis waxing extravagant, for she has had the opal, that _The Man_ gave heronce in exchange for an old coin, surrounded with very good diamonds andset as a ring! Really I never before noticed what fine strong whitehands she has. 

I shall ask Father Penrose for the _Cyclopædia_--it has a substantialsound that may soften his suspicion that we are not practical and werenot properly grieved over the loss of the hens!

XX

EPILOGUE

(DICTATED)

_Woodridge, January 3. _ In the face of circumstances that prevent myholding the pen in my own hand, I am resolved that the first chronicleof the New Year shall be mine, --for by me it has sent The Garden, You, and I a new member and our own garden a new tree, an oak we hope. 

The Infant is exultant at the evident and direct result of her dealingswith the fairies, and keeps a plate of astonishing goodies by thenursery hearth fire; these, if the fairies do not feast upon personally, are appreciated by their horses, the mice. 

His name is John Bartram Penrose, a good one to conjure with gardenwise, though he is no kin to the original. He has fresh-air lungs, and if hedoes not wax strong of limb and develop into a naturalist of some sort, he cannot blame his parents or their garden vacation. 

MARY PENROSE, her [Illustration: ROSE MOTIF. ] mark. 

[Illustration: PUNCH ... HAS A CACHE UNDER THE OLD SYRINGABUSHES. ]

FOR THE HARDY SEED BED

====================+=========+========+=======+=======+====================NAME |TENDER | | | | |OR HARDY | COLOUR |HEIGHT |SEASON |REMARKS--------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------Aquilegia-COLUMBINE | H. P. * | | 3 ft. |June |Columbines are among | | | | |the most gracefulChrysantha | |Golden | | |and easily raised | |yellow | | |of hardy plants. Coerulea | |Rich | | |They will thrive in | |Blue | | |open borders, but doGlandulosa vera | |Blue and| | |better in partial | |white | | |shade, after the | | | | |habit of our local | | | | |species, the "Red | | | | |Bells" of hillsides | | | | |and rocky wood. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------CANTERBURY-BELL | H. B. ** | | 2 ft. |June |Old-fashioned plantsCampanula media | |Blue, | | |of decorative value. | |white, | | |As with all | |pink | | |biennials, the plant | | | | |dies soon after | | | | |maturing seed; a new | | | | |sowing should be | | | | |made each spring and | | | | |seedlings | | | | |transplanted as soon | | | | |as the old plant | | | | |dies; this secures | | | | |strong growth before | | | | |winter. CHIMNEY BELL-FLOWER | H. P. |Blue |3-4 ft. |Aug. |Desirable because of | | | |to |of its late bloomingCampanula | | | |Oct. |combined with its pyramadalis | | | | |striking appearance. | | | | |Should be planted in | | | | |connection with the | | | | |tall white hardy | | | | |phlox. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------Coreopsis | H. P. |Yellow |1-2 ft. |Summer |A sturdy plant lanceolata | | | | |either for massing | | | | |or as a border to | | | | |sunny shrubberies. | | | | |Flowers carried on | | | | |long stems suitable | | | | |for cutting. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------CANDYTUFT--Iberis | H. P. | |1 ft. |Summer |When transplanted | | | | |from seed bed, Sempervirens | |White | | |plants should be | | | | |set eight inches | | | | |apart to make the | | | | |best effect, given | | | | |room, they make fine | | | | |compact bushes. The | | | | |foliage is | | | | |evergreen. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------Delphinium-- | H. P. |Blue, |3-7 ft. |June, |Our most satisfactory LARKSPUR |Flowering|all | |July, |blue flower, but |first |shades | |and |like all of this |year | |Oct. |colour should have | | | | |a setting of white. | | | | |If plants are cut | | | | |down to the ground | | | | |as soon as the | | | | |blossoms fade, they | | | | |will give a second | | | | |crop in October. D. Grandiflorum | |White |1-2 ft. |Summer |These flowers have Chinensis | |and blue| | |a peculiar | | | | |brilliancy, and ifSIBERIAN LARKSPUR | | | | |set in a bed edged | | | | |by sweet alyssum, | | | | |are very | | | | |satisfactory. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------Dianthus | H. P. | |1 ft. |May |There is nothing plumarius | | | |and |more suggestive ofSCOTCH CLOVE PINK | |Various | |June |the old time gardensHer Majesty | |White | | " |of sweet flowersLord Lyon | |Pink | | " |than these fringed | | | | |pinks. If once | | | | |established in a | | | | |well-drained spot, | | | | |and not harassed, | | | | |they will sow | | | | |themselves and last | | | | |for years. Her | | | | |Majesty and Lord | | | | |Lyon are new | | | | |varieties, and as | | | | |double as | | | | |carnations. Dianthus | H. P. |Var. |6 in. - |Summer |Excellent for either Chinensis | | | 1 ft. | |bedding or edging. CHINA PINK |first | | | |Have an apple | year | | | |fragrance. Dianthus | H. P. |Var. |9 in. - |Summer |These summer pinks Heddewigii | | | 1 ft. | |are not grown inJAPAN PINK |first | | | |masses as freely as | year | | | |as they deserve. | | | | |They bloom with all | | | | |the profusion of | | | | |annuals without | | | | |their frailty. For a | | | | |succession the seed | | | | |should be sown every | | | | |year, as the old | | | | |plants bloom | | | | |earliest and the new | | | | |follow them. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------Dianthus barbatus | H. P. |Var. | 1 ft. |June |An old-timeSWEET-WILLIAM | | | | |favourite with | | | | |slightly fragrant | | | | |blossoms that will | | | | |keep a week in water | | | | |when cut. A bed when | | | | |once established | | | | |will last a long | | | | |time if a few of the | | | | |finest heads of | | | | |flowers are allowed | | | | |to go to seed, as | | | | |with many perennials | | | | |the younger plants | | | | |bloom more | | | | |vigorously than the | | | | |old. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------Digitalis--FOXGLOVE | H. P. | |3 ft. |June |A dignified as well Variety | |White, | | |as a poetic flower gloxinoides | |pink, | | |if given its | |purple, | | |natural, half-wild | |light | | |surroundings. It | |yellow | | |will thrive best | | | | |in partial shade if | | | | |the soil be good. | | | | |While if the stalks | | | | |of seeds are saved | | | | |and the contents | | | | |scattered along wild | | | | |walks or at the edge | | | | |of woods, surprising | | | | |results will follow. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------FEVERFEW | H. P. | |1-3 ft. |Summer |A very useful, Chrysanthemum |first |White | | |double-flowered parthenium, | year | | | |white composite, double | | | | |resembling a small | | | | |chrysanthemum. It | | | | |should be used | | | | |freely as a setting | | | | |for blue, pink, or | | | | |magenta flowers. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------FORGET-ME-NOT | H. P. | |1 ft. |Spring |Well-known flowersMyosotis alpestris | |Blue | |and |that do best in Victoria | | | |autumn |moist borders or | | | | |places where they | | | | |can be watered | | | | |freely. If cut down | | | | |after first | | | | |flowering, will | | | | |bloom again in | | | | |autumn. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------Gaillardia | H. P. |Yellow |1 ft. |Until |Brilliant and hardy cristata | first |and | |frost |plants for edgingBLANKET FLOWER | year |red | | |shrubbery or in | | | | |separate beds. | | | | |Sprawl too much for | | | | |the mixed border. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------HOLLYHOCKS | H. P. | | |Summer |Of late years these Double and single | |All |4-7 ft. | |decorative plants | |colors | | |have suffered from aNew Hybrid Hollyhock| |All |4 ft. | |blight that turns flowers first year | |colors | | |the leaves yellow from seed | | | | |and soon spreads to | | | | |the stalks. Use | | | | |great care that the | | | | |soil be new and | | | | |well drained, | | | | |sprinkle powdered | | | | |sulphur and unslaked | | | | |lime on surface and | | | | |dig it in shortly | | | | |before setting out | | | | |the seedlings. | | | | |Also spray young | | | | |plants well with | | | | |diluted Bordeaux | | | | |mixture at intervals | | | | |before the flowers | | | | |show colour. | | | | |A large bed should | | | | |be given to this | | | | |flower, with either | | | | |a wall or hedge as a | | | | |background, and they | | | | |should be allowed to | | | | |seed themselves from | | | | |the best flowers. | | | | |Thus a natural and | | | | |artistic effect is | | | | |produced unlike the | | | | |stiff lines of | | | | |tightly staked | | | | |plants. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------HONESTY | H. B. | | | |The old EnglishLunaria biennis | |White |2 ft. |June |flower of colonial | | to | | |gardens. Should be | | lilac | | |massed. The silvery | | | | |moons of its seed | | | | |vessels make unusual | | | | |winter bouquets. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------LUPINS | H. P. | | | |Good for plantingLupinus polyphyllus | |Rich |3 ft. |June |before the white | | blue | | |flowering June | | | | |shrubs. Flowers borne | | | | |erect upon long | | | | |spikes. Very | | | | |difficult to | | | | |transplant unless | | | | |the long root is | | | | |kept intact. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------HORSEMINT | H. P. | |2-3 ft. |Summer |Sturdy and somewhatMonada didyma-Bee | |Deep red| | |coarse plants, theirbalm or Oswego tea | | | | |square stems tellingMonada fistulosa | | | | |the kinship with theWILD BERGAMOT | H. P. |Lavender|3-6 ft. |Summer |familiar mints. Of | | | | |good decorative | | | | |effect, should be | | | | |used as a background | | | | |in the bed of sweet | | | | |odours, as | | | | |especially after a | | | | |rain they yield the | | | | |garden a clean | | | | |fragrance of tonic | | | | |quality. The bergamot | | | | |grows wild in many | | | | |places and is easily | | | | |transplanted. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------Primula | H. P. | |6 in. |May |The beautiful tuftedENGLISH FIELD | |Primrose| | |primrose of the PRIMROSE | |yellow | | |English poets. Grows | | | | |in this country best | | | | |on moist, grassy | | | | |banks under high or | | | | |in partial shade. | | | | |It has, during the | | | | |ten years that I | | | | |have grown it, | | | | |proved entirely | | | | |hardy. The seed may | | | | |be in the ground a | | | | |year before | | | | |germinating, but | | | | |once established the | | | | |plant cares for | | | | |itself. Primula Japonica | H. P. |Yellows |6 in. - |May |The border primrose mixed border | |and reds| 1 ft. | |so freely used in | | | | |England but rarely | | | | |seen in everyday | | | | |gardens here, where | | | | |I have found it | | | | |perfectly hardy. | | | | |Makes a border of | | | | |rich colour for the | | | | |May garden. Must be | | | | |watered freely in | | | | |hot, dry seasons. Primula Officinalis | H. P. |Yellow |1 ft. |May |The English cowslip, COWSLIP | | | | |a charming garden | | | | |flower, but more at | | | | |home in nooks of | | | | |grassy banks, like | | | | |the primrose, or in | | | | |the open. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------POPPY | H. P. |Yellow |1 ft. |Early |Poppies are very { Iceland poppy | |and | |Summer |difficult to { P. Nudicale | |white | | |transplant, owing to | | | | |their long, | | | | |sensitive roots, | | | | |though it can be | | | | |done. It is easier, | | | | |therefore, to sow | | | | |them thinly where | | | | |they are to remain | | | | |and weed them out. P. Orientale | H. P. |Dazzling|2-3 ft. |June |A gorgeous flower, | | scarlet| | |subject to damping | | | | |off if heavy rains | | | | |come when it is in | | | | |full bloom. Should | | | | |be used to fill in | | | | |between white | | | | |shrubs, as its | | | | |colour is impossible | | | | |near any of the | | | | |pink, purple, or | | | | |magenta June | | | | |flowers, and a | | | | |single plant | | | | |misplaced will ruin | | | | |your garden. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------PHLOX | H. P. |In |3-4 ft. |July- |Offshoots of these P. Paniculata | |variety, | | Oct. |hardy phloxes may be | |crimson, | |Miss |usually obtained by | |purple, | |Lingard|exchange from some | |salmon, | |in June|friend, as they | |carmine, | | |increase rapidly. | |and | | |But there is a charm | |white | | |in raising seedlings | |with | | |on the chance of | |colored | | |growing a new | |eye | | |species. These | | | | |phloxes are the | | | | |backbone of the | | | | |hardy garden from | | | | |July until frost, | | | | |while Miss Lingard, | | | | |a fine white | | | | |variety, blooms in | | | | |June to be a setting | | | | |for the blue | | | | |larkspurs. Phlox subulata | H. P. |Pink and|6 in. | |The dwarf phlox that MOSS PINK | |white | | |hides its foliage | | | | |under sheets of pink | | | | |or white bloom and | | | | |makes the great mats | | | | |of colour seen among | | | | |rock work and on dry | | | | |banks in parks and | | | | |public gardens. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------PENTSTEMON | H. P. | |3 ft. |Summer |Very fine borderEuropean | |Many | | |plants, almost as varieties. Mixed | | rich | | |decorative as | | colours| | |foxgloves, showing | | | | |tints of reds | | | | |through pink, white, | | | | |blue and white | | | | |cream, etc. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------PANSIES | H. B. |Many |1 ft. |April |It is usual to sow in varieties | flowers | rich | | to |pansies in frames | first | colours| |Dec. |during September | year | | | |and October, winter | | | | |them under cover, | | | | |and transplant to | | | | |beds the following | | | | |spring. | | | | |If pansies (well | | | | |soaked previously) | | | | |are sown in the seed | | | | |bed in late August | | | | |or early September, | | | | |they will be compact | | | | |little plants by | | | | |November, when they | | | | |may be transplanted | | | | |to their permanent | | | | |bed or else covered | | | | |where they stand, | | | | |protected by leaves | | | | |between the rows and | | | | |a few evergreen | | | | |boughs or a little | | | | |salt hay over them. | | | | |If an entire bed is | | | | |set apart set apart | | | | |for pansies and only | | | | |the finest flowers | | | | |allowed to seed, the | | | | |bed will keep itself | | | | |going for several | | | | |years by merely | | | | |thinning and | | | | |adjusting the | | | | |seedlings. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------DAY PRIMROSE | H. P. |Golden |1 ft. |Early |A day-floweringOenothera fruticosa | |yellow | |summer |member of the | | | | |evening-primrose | | | | |family, resembling | | | | |the golden sundrops | | | | |of our June meadows. | | | | |Very fragrant, and | | | | |if once established, | | | | |will sow itself. EVENING PRIMROSE | H. B. |Yellow |3 ft. |All |The exquisitelyOenothera biennis | | | |summer |scented silver-gold | | | | |flower that unfurls | | | | |at twilight to give | | | | |a supper to the hawk | | | | |moths, upon whom it | | | | |depends for | | | | |fertilization. Grows | | | | |in dry soil and | | | | |should be used in | | | | |masses to fill in | | | | |odd corners. --------------------+---------+--------+-------+-------+--------------------Violas | H. P. |Purple, |6 in. |April |A race of plantsTUFTED PANSY-VIOLETS| |yellow, | |to Oct. |closely resembling for bedding | |rose, | | |pansies, that fill | |mauve, | | |an important place | |white | | |in the gardens of | | | | |Europe, but are as | | | | |yet little known | | | | |here, though they | | | | |are as hardy as the | | | | |primulas. As a | | | | |border for shrubs or | | | | |rose beds they are | | | | |excellent, but when | | | | |planted as a bed, | | | | |should be in partial | | | | |shade. ====================+=========+========+=======+=======+====================*: Hardy Perennial. **: Hardy Biennial. 

SOME WORTHY ANNUALS

====================+========+==========+========+========================== | TENDER | | | NAME |OR HARDY| COLOUR | HEIGHT | REMARKS--------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------ASTER | H. A. |All shades|18 in. |Asters are the standby ofMost reliable | |of blues, |- 2 ft. |the late summer and autumn varieties-- | |purples, | |garden, and for thisTruffants | |and pink | |reason it is better to sowVictoria | |up to deep| |them in the outdoor seedQUEEN OF MARKET | |blue, also| |bed than to attempt (very early) | |white. | |forcing. They requireComet | | | |light, rich soil, mixed (quaint and | | | |with old manure, as fresh artistic) | | | |manure breeds many asterEMPEROR FREDERICK | | | |ills. Two enemies--lice at (best white) | | | |the root and blackHOHENZOLLERN | | | |goldenrod beetles on the (new large | | | |flowers--must be guarded flowers. ) | | | |against--the first by | | | |digging sulphur powder, | | | |unslaked lime, nitrate of | | | |soda, or wood ashes into | | | |the soil both before | | | |sowing the seed and again | | | |into the place where they | | | |are transplanted; the | | | |beetle must be dislodged | | | |by careful hand picking. | | | |Cover the seeds with half | | | |an inch of soil, and in | | | |transplanting set the | | | |plants from a foot to | | | |eighteen inches apart, | | | |according to variety. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------SWEET ALYSSUM, | H. A. |White, | 1 ft. |A cheerful little Variety | | fragrant | |mustard-shaped flower Maritimum | | | |borne in short, thick | | | |spikes, useful for edgings | | | |or to supply the white | | | |setting necessary to | | | |groups of party-coloured | | | |flowers. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------BALSAM | T. A. |White, | 18 in. |A rapid-growing, tender Camellia flowered | |peach, | |annual from India, and | |carmine, | |while rather stiff in form | |lavender, | |of growth, very decorative | |rose, | |for the summer borders | |scarlet, | |surrounding a sundial. | |spotted, | |The flowers, like | |and straw | |compact, double roses, are | | | |very useful for set table | | | |decorations and may be | | | |used in many ways. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------Calendula--POT | H. A. |Yellow | 1 ft. |Showy flowers for summerMARIGOLD | |and orange| |beds, not good forCalendula | |White | |cutting, as they grow officinalis | | | |sleepy indoors and in grandiflora | | | |cloudy weather. Calendula Pongei. | | | | fl. Pl. | | | |--------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------CANDYTUFT | H. A. |White, | 1 ft. |A sturdy white flowerIberis Coronaria | |fine | |useful for edgings in theRocket Candytuft | |erect form| |same way as sweet alyssum. | | | |May be sown in fall for | | | |early flowering. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------CORNFLOWER | H. A. | | 1-2 ft. |One of the mostCentaurea | | | |satisfactory of the tallerCentaurea Margaritæ, | | | |growing annuals, the fragrant | |White | |flowers having some of theSWEET SULTAN | | | |qualities of anSuaveolens | |Yellow | |everlasting, and makingMoschata | |Purple | |fine buttonhole flowersCYANUS--EMPEROR | | | |or house bouquets. The WILLIAM | |Deep blue | |Sweet Sultans are (Rich blue | | | |delightfully fragrant, and cornflower) | | | |the Cornflower one of the | | | |finest of our blue | | | |flowers. They should be | | | |sown in borders or large | | | |beds where they are to | | | |bloom and while the Sweet | | | |Sultans must be spring | | | |sown, the Cornflower if | | | |sown in October will bloom | | | |in May. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------COSMOS | H. A. |White |4-8 ft. |A beautiful autumn flowerGiant fancy | |Pink | |if they are on their best | |Maroon | |behaviour and bloom on | | | |time, but like the little | | | |girl with the curl--when | | | |they are bad, they are | | | |horrid. --They take a | | | |great deal of room during | | | |a long season which can be | | | |often used to better | | | |advantage--planted with | | | |asters. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------Dahlia | H. H. P. |Various |3-6 ft. |If sown either indoors orSingle and cactus, | | | |in a frame, these Dahlias mixed varieties | | | |may be as cheaply raised | | | |as any common annual--with | | | |the chance of growing | | | |many beautiful and new | | | |varieties. The roots may | | | |be stored in sand in the | | | |cellar during winter like | | | |other bulbs. | | | |I class this seed with | | | |annuals from the fact that | | | |it must be sown in spring | | | |and cannot be left over | | | |winter in the hardy bed | | | |though it is a _half_ | | | |hardy perennial. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------Gaillardia, called | H. A. |Red and |1 ft. |Fine daisy-shaped flower BLANKET FLOWER from| |yellow | |for colour-masses or its habit of | | | |picking. May be sown in covering the ground| | | |in the borders after bulbs with bloom | | | |have died away, and willGaillardia, picta | | | |and will bloom until hard Lorenziania | | | |frost. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------Ipomæa | T. A. | |10-15 |Our most beautiful annual | | | ft. |vines. The common morning | | | |glories should be kept | | | |from seeding in flower or | | | |vegetable gardens, because | | | |before you know it the | | | |strong tendrils will have | | | |twined about vegetables | | | |and flowers alike and | | | |strangled them. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------Ipomæa | T. A. | | |An early variety of the | | | |of the popular moonflowerIpomæa, Mexicana | |Satiny | 15 ft. | grandiflora | | white | | alba--Large white | | | | moonflower | | | |Ipomæa, Northern | T. A. |Pinkish | 15 ft. | Light | |heliotrope| |--------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------Imperial Japanese | T. A. |White, |30-40 |One of the most artisticmorning-glories | |rose, | ft. |flowers of the modern | |crimson, | |garden, the seed must be | |all | |must be sown early, | |shades of | |preferably in a hotbed, | |purple | |and extra precautions | | | |taken to insure its | | | |germination, as the | | | |coverings are exceedingly | | | |hard. It is best to soak | | | |them over night in several | | | |changes of warm water or | | | |else very carefully notch | | | |the shell of the seed with | | | |a knife. This last | | | |performance is rather | | | |risky, if the knife slip | | | |ever so little, and it is | | | |best to trust to the | | | |soaking. For those who are | | | |in the country only from | | | |June to October and have | | | |little room for vines, | | | |these morning-glories | | | |will prove a new | | | |experience, for in flower | | | |and leaf they present an | | | |infinite variety of shape | | | |and marking. The flowers | | | |are both self-coloured as | | | |well as marbled, spotted, | | | |striped, margined, and | | | |fringed. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------MIGNONETTE | H. A. | |1-2 ft. |These three species ofMiles Spiral | |Green | |mignonette I have found | | and white| |perfectly satisfactory. Giant Pyramidal | |Green, | 18 in. |If quantity is desired | | deep | |rather than quality, theParson's White | |White and | 9 in. |seed may be sown thinly | | buff | |where it is to remain. But | | | |for specimen stalks to | | | |come up to catalogue | | | |descriptions, each plant | | | |must have individual | | | |treatment, like the | | | |asters. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------NASTURTIUMS | H. A. |All shades| |A showy climbing orTall | |of reds | |trailing plant, useful forMake your own | |and | |outdoor decorations and mixture by buying | |yellows, | |the clean-smelling flowers the twenty named | |chocolate, | |being equally valuable for colours offered and| |pink, and | |table decorations. Blending them. | |salmon | |Should be either planted | | | |on a bank, wall, or in | | | |front of a fence, stone or | | | |otherwise. If stone, a | | | |thick support of peabrush | | | |should be given, set | | | |slantwise toward the wall. | | | |Be careful not to place | | | |nasturtiums where you will | | | |look over them toward beds | | | |containing pink or magenta | | | |flowers or where they will | | | |form a background for the | | | |same, as in spite of some | | | |beautiful tints of | | | |straw-colour and maroon, | | | |the general nasturtium | | | |colour is dazzling, | | | |uncompromising | | | |vermilion-orange. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------PHLOX DRUMMONDII | H. A. | |1½ ft. |A thoroughly satisfactoryBest colours in | | | |flower for the summertall flowering class| | | |garden, whether sown | | | |broadcast to cover bedsAlba | |White | |left empty by spring bulbsCoccinea | |Scarlet | |or sown in a seed bed andIsabellina | |Light | |transplanted eight inches | | yellow | |to a foot apart, when ifRosea | |Pink | |the dead flowers are keptStella Splendens | |Crimson | |well picked off, they willAtropurpurea | |Purple | |make sturdy, compact | | | |bushes. DRUMMOND PHLOX | | |6-8 ft. |The dwarf varieties makeSnowball | |White | |charming edges for hardyChamois Rose | |Pink | |rose beds or shrubberies. Fireball | |Flame | |Surprise | |Scarlet | | | |edged with| | | |white | |--------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------POPPIES | H. A. | |1 ft. - |Poppies are gorgeous | | | 18 in. |flowers, but in ourSHIRLEY, the most | |All shades| |changeable climate, as a satisfactory reds | |class, are too short-lived of poppies for | | | |to pay their way, except outdoor decoration | | | |in summer gardens where a or cutting | | | |brief period of bloom | | | |suffices, or in a garden | | | |so large that there need | | | |be no economy of space. | | | |Shirley is sown in May and | | | |again in August for spring | | | |flowering. | | | |Even under adverse | | | |conditions the Shirley is | | | |always dainty and never | | | |makes a disagreeable, | | | |soppy exhibition after a | | | |rainy period like the | | | |carnation and peony | | | |flowered varieties. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------PORTULACA | T. A. |Red, |6-8 in. |A most useful "filler" forBuy the separate | |white, | |sunny nooks, --rockwork, -- colours and mix | |pink, | |for covering bulb beds, them yourself, as | |crimson, | |and concealing mishaps in the commercial | |yellow | |and disappointments. Mixtures both | | | |Its fat, uninteresting scarlet and pink | | | |foliage, that makes mats appear in tints | | | |a foot broad and proclaims that set the teeth | | | |it first cousin to on edge | | | |"pusley, " is covered | | | |during bright sunshine by | | | |a wealth of gay flowers | | | |two inches across and of | | | |satiny texture. | | | |Heat, and plenty of it, is | | | |what Portulaca craves, | | | |backyards agree with it, | | | |also dry banks, and even | | | |seashore sand if there is | | | |a foothold of loam | | | |beneath. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------Salvia Splendens-- | H. A. | |2-2½ ft. |The familiar flower thatFLOWERING SAGE | | | |sends up its spikes ofBonfire | |Intense | |flame from August until | | flame | |frost--should be sown in | | | |seed beds and set out from | | | |one to two feet apart. | | | |Watch out and do not put | | | |your salvia where it will | | | |come in competition with | | | |the crimson-hued hardy | | | |phlox tribe. Scarlet | | | |geraniums and the crimson | | | |rambler rose in | | | |conjunction are not more | | | |painful. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------SWEET PEAS, twelve | H. A. |Various |6 ft. |If sweet peas are to be good colours | | | |grown in any quantity, | | | |they should be sown afterApple blossom | |Pink | |the manner of tall gardenBlack knight | |Maroon | |peas and the colours keptBoreatton | |Deep | |separate. This is a great | | Crimson | |aid both to theirCoquette | |Primrose | |gathering and artisticCrown jewel | |Cream, | |arrangement. | | violet | | | | veins | |Duke of Clarence | |Claret | |Firefly | |Dazzling | | | | scarlet | |Gorgeous | |Orange and| | | | rose | |Mrs. Kenyon (very | |Primrose- | | large) | | yellow | |King Edward VII | |Very fine | | | | crimson | |Mrs. Dugdale | |Best | | | | rose-pink| |Navy blue | |Rich dark | | | | blue | |Primrose | |Light | | | | yellow | |Senator | |White, | | | | purple, | | | | and | | | | maroon | | | | striped | |Mont Blanc, very | |White | 2 ft. | early | | | |Stella Morse | |Primrose | | | | flushed | | | | with pink| |--------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------SUNFLOWERS | H. A. |All shades|4-8 ft. |Cheerful flowers to lineHenry Wilde | |of yellow | |up against fences or atPrimrose-coloured | | | |the back of shrubberies, Cucumerifolius | | | |whose seeds, if left to hybridus fl. Pl. , | | | |ripen, will secure the a fine mixture of | | | |company of many birds for new varieties, | | | |your garden through the decorative and | | | |autumn and early winter. Good for cutting | | | |Single Russian (The | | | 8 ft. | Henyard Sunflower), | | | | large head heavy | | | | with seeds | | | |--------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------VERBENA | H. A. | |1½ ft. |The best summer-beddingDefiance, scarlet | | | |plant that is raised from bedder | | | |seed, which must be wellCandidissima | | | |soaked before sowing. TheAuriculæflora, | | | |mammoth varieties are the various, with | | | |most satisfactory, and white eye | | | |among them are to beMammoth, mixed, | |Red, | |found shaded tints of roselarge flowers, often| |white, | |and lavender that have fragrant, of many | |blue, | |decided perfume. Beautiful colours. | |purple, | | | |crimson, | | | |pink, | | | |striped | |--------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------WALLFLOWER | H. A. |Gold and |1½ ft. |While the most beautifulParis single annual | | Brown | |species of wallflowers are | | | |in this climate so tender | | | |that they must be wintered | | | |in pits or cold frames, | | | |this single species, if | | | |sown in spring and | | | |transplanted, will bloom | | | |until Christmas. | | | |It is one of the most | | | |valuable and | | | |characteristic plants of | | | |the bed of sweet odours | | | |and can be used to fill | | | |odd nooks, against stone | | | |walls, or the foundation | | | |of buildings. --------------------+--------+----------+--------+--------------------------ZINNIA (Crabbed age | H. A. | |1-16 in. |Bedding annual, ofand Youth) | | | |brilliant colours andSalmon | | | |vigorous growth. If roomSnowball | | | |is lacking, the dwarfSulphur | | | |varieties are best unlessGolden | | | |the soil is very poor. ItFireball | | | |is best to buy the seed inRose | | | |separate colours, and when | | | |transplanting from the | | | |seed bed, combine as | | | |required. | | | |Avoid the purple and | | | |magenta shades, they are | | | |quite impossible. ====================+========+==========+========+==========================