MY GARDENING. 9 
catalogues, I looked out, not novelties alone, but 
curious novelties. Not one of them “did any good” 
to the best of my recollection. Impatient and dis- 
gusted, I formed several extraordinary projects to 
evade my ignorance of horticulture. Among 
others which I recollect was an idea of growing 
bulbs the year round! No trouble with bulbs! 
you just plant them and they do their duty. A 
patient friend at Kew made mea list of genera and 
species which, if all went well, should flower in 
succession. But there was a woeful gap about 
midsummer—just the time when gardens ought 
to be brightest. Still, I resolved to carry out the 
scheme, so far as it went, and forwarded my list to 
Covent Garden for an estimate of the expense. 
It amounted to some hundreds of pounds. So that 
notion fell through. 
But the patient friend suggested something for 
which I still cherish his memory. He pointed 
out that bulbs look very formal mostly, unless 
planted in great quantities,as may be done with 
the cheap sorts—tulips and such. An_ under- 
growth of low brightly-coloured annuals would 
correct this disadvantage. I caught the hint, and 
I profit by it to this more enlightened day. 
Spring bulbs are still a spécralité of my gardening. 
I buy them fresh every autumn—but of Messrs. 
