142 



THE GARDENERS' CHRONICLE OF AMERICA. 



books. Most of them can talk easily enough, and when 

 they have anything to say can say it without any con- 

 tortions of speech ; but the moment they begin to write, 

 their speech is apt to contort itself like the legs of a \'ic- 

 torian sideboard. 



What is it that makes Air. Bowles call someone's gar- 

 den "a veritable golconda of floral treasures'"? 



Why is it that he begins a chapter on spring Crocuses 

 thus ? — 



"For me, starting this chapter, there are great search- 

 ings of heart, compared with which those of the divisions 

 of Reuben were nothing. If but one of them possessed 

 a flat object with diverse and recognizable sides to it 

 they might toss up and decide whether to go and help 

 smash up Sisera or stay and listen to the music of their 

 baa-lambs, and they seem to have decided pretty unani- 

 mously for the ovine concert. But for me, the very in- 

 most cockle of whose heart glows more for a Crocus 

 than for the most expensive Urchid, every cockle in me 

 (though I haven't a notion what portion of my internal 

 anatomy is meant by that borrowed appellation of marine 

 molluscs) is full of searchings and provisions how to do 

 justice to my first garden love and avoid wearying and 

 driving away readers to whom my raptures may appear 

 the vaporings of a love-sick monomaniac." 



Mr. Bowles, we are sure, would never talk like that ; 

 whv does he take the trouble to write so? Why is writ- 

 ing for him a kind of obstacle race with every possible 

 irrelevance interposed between him and his subject 

 matter ! 



It is the same with i\Ir. Farrer, who tells us in his pref- 

 ace that "There was once a man who stood upon mont 

 Cenis when all the earth was indeed a burning deck of 

 blossom, filmed into the uttermost distances with gold 

 and violet veins of the Pansies." This man, we are told, 

 said "I don't think much of this for a display." which was 

 a bad judgment on the Mont Cenis, but not so bad on 

 Mr. Farrer's eloquence. For that tells us much more 

 about his notions of style than about the beauties of the 

 Mont Cenis. As we read it, instead of seeing these 

 beauties with the mind's eye, we are set to wondering how 

 the Pansies managed to film the earth into its uttermost 

 distances with their purple and gold veins, or rather by 

 what mental processes Mr. Farrer managed to persuade 

 himself that his ideas were expressed by his language. 

 We have no doubt that both he and Mr. Bowles are eager 

 to tell us all kinds of interesting things that they know, 

 but when thev write, they are like bad swimmers who 

 kick and splash and make no progress. And yet writing, 

 for those who have something to say and are content to 

 say that and nothing more, is not much more difficult than 

 talking. 



Mr. Bowles has a great deal to say. He could, if he 

 would, tell us how to grow a great many plants: but, 

 instead of doing that, he will try to express his feelings 

 about his garden ; and it is when a writer tries to express 

 his feelings that all the difficulties of literature begin with 

 him. We listen to a good gardener with respect when he 

 expounds his craft; but the best gardener in the world 

 is not therefore a humorist or a poet, and it is a fact which 

 the writers of books on gardening continually forget. 

 Thev try to communicate emotion to those who seek in- 

 formation. Thev labor to tell us what they feel when 

 we want to know what they do. Mr. Bowles' book is of 

 some value because, out of his great experience, he tells 

 us which are the best out of many different species and 

 varieties of plants ; but how much more valuable it might 

 have been if he could have remembered that Reuben and 

 Sisera and marine molluscs have nothing to do with 

 spring Crocuses. — Florist Trade Journal. 



LARGEST GLASS DOME IN THE WORLD. 



An idea of the splendor and beauty of the Panama- 

 Pacific International Exposition which is to open at San 

 Francisco next year is given in this photograph of the 

 hugh glass dome of the Palace of Horticulture. This is 

 the largest glass dome in existence, being 185 feet in 

 height and 152 feet in diameter. It is comprised of a 

 steel frame with a wire glass covering. The architecture 

 of the Palace of Horticulture, which is 600 feet long by 

 300 feet wide, is of Saracenic origin, resembling the 

 famous mosque of the Sultan Ahmed I. The dome is 

 visible miles from the exposition grounds. At night it 

 will be illuminated by giant searchlights playing on the 

 glass from within. 



GLASS DOME ON HORTICULTUR.\L BUILDING, S.AN FR.\NCISCO 

 EXPOSITION. 



JUST GLIMPSES— "SISTERS." 



By Miri.'^m Teichner. 

 I paid a visit to the room of one 



Hospital patient, "just a little" ill. 

 A woman who, since living had begun. 



Had all the world to answer to her will. 

 And now, the social season lacking zest. 

 Quiet required, and nurse's care, "for rest." 



The room was golden with the summer light. 



Massed groups of flowers nodded toward the bed ; 

 Great roses white and red and jonquils bright, 



And violets, purple-sweet. The patient said, 

 In fretful tone : "Nurse, all this thick perfume 

 Annoys me. Take the flowers from the room." 



In passing out, into a ward I strayed. 



Here, narrow beds, each with its pain-racked form. 

 And here a stifled moan, and here one prayed 



For quick release. Like mutt'ring of a storm 

 Hung on the air the pregnant chance of death, 

 So near, one almost feared to draw the breath. 



I dropped the rose I held beside the cheek 

 Of one. a woman fever-painted, dazed 



With pain: so famine-thin, so weak, so weak! 

 The vacant, staring eyes in stupor gazed. 



She seized the bud, as eager as a child. 



And kissed its coolness with hot lips that smiled. 



