THE AMATEUR GARDEN 



whether in size or in color; the season of their 

 blooming; the contour of the grounds — all these 

 points must be taken into account in determin- 

 ing where things are to stand and how be 

 grouped. Once the fence or hedge was the 

 frame of the picture; but now our pictures, on 

 almost any street of unpalatial, comfortable 

 homes, touch edge to edge without frames, and 

 the reason they do not mar one another's ef- 

 fects is that they have no particular effects to 

 be marred, but lie side by side as undiscord- 

 antly as so many string instruments without 

 strings. Let us hope for a time when they will 

 rise in insurrection, resolved to be either parts 

 of a private park, or each one a whole private 

 garden. 



In our Carnegie prize contest nothing yields 

 its judges more pleasure than to inculcate the 

 garden rules of perspective to which we have 

 just referred and to see the blissful complacency 

 of those who successfully carry them out. I 

 have now in my mind's eye a garden to which 

 was awarded the capital prize of 1903. A cot- 

 tage of maybe six small rooms crowns a high 



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