OUR OUTCAST GARDEN FOLK. 



385 



^obe. We cannot all of us, in pursuit of 

 new daffodils or orchids, rush after these 

 wildlings, to look for them in their native 

 haunts, or track them in the dim recesses of 

 the jungle; but another field is always open, 

 if we will only look for it. At our feet it 

 lies, and it is well worth exploration. The 

 very best place I know of for studying 

 weeds is one's own garden, and the next 

 best places are other people's gardens. 

 What with winds and wild birds, we need 

 never fear the supply of specimens will run 

 short. 



On the whole,, other people's gardens are 

 the most entertaining on account of their 

 variety. Country houses of friends, hotel 

 gardens, and the houses we own for a sea- 

 son affords us opportunities. The weeds 

 vary, of course, with every locality, and 

 most gardens provide something fresh- if it 

 be only a stowaway, that has come from 

 afar, in moss, or litter, or packing stuff. 

 Such errants are misleading, but they add 

 to the excitement of the chase. 



It was once my good fortune to own. a 

 garden in gravel-land, near a forest. A 

 half filled gravel-pit that had been left in it 

 was a paradise for weeds ; never to be for- 

 gotten was the way the trefoils, thrincias, 

 and cat's ears flourished in the sunshine. 

 Most beautiful of all were the tufts of 

 viper's-bugloss, its fuzzy green leaves and 

 clusters of brilliant blue flowers, dazzling 

 between the yellow earth and sapphire sky, 

 blue against blue. A chalk garden has 

 many delightful weeds, and so has a garden 

 that owns a stream or lake, all different, 

 with differing ways and scents. 



When one comes to think of it, what an 

 untold debt of gratitude we owe the weeds 

 of by-gone centuries. How about those 

 that were good enough to turn into coal, 

 and are now burning for us? A coal-box 

 is not a usual place for the study of botany- 

 but one might do worse than turn one over, 

 now and again, in search of floral impres- 



sions. Lignite, of course, is better; being 

 in the transition stage, it is quite easy to 

 pick out little stems and stalks. Two 

 friends, one a geologist and the other a 

 botanist, once took me for a walk, and for 

 fear of being considered a wild romancer, 

 I will not say how many kinds of weeds 

 were recognized in some seams of lignite, 

 brown and black. In fact, had everything 

 we came to not been in a fossilized condi- 

 tion, we could have had an oyster feast out 

 of the rocks, and salad to go with it. 



Sometimes in gardens one comes across 

 an unattractive outcast, commonly known 

 as the horse-tail. At sight of this small 

 weed an imaginative mind may take a leap 

 backwards across past aeons, and see the 

 horse-tails as they used to be. when, giants 

 in the land, they lived along with the mam- 

 moths of the period, the slow-moving rep- 

 tiles and the silent lizards, half fish, half 

 bird. We must forgive this homely weed 

 its flowerlessness and want of beauty, for 

 the sake of the tales it dumbly tells us. 



Fig. 2655. A Beautiful Arrangement OF Wild 

 Flowers. 



