PREFATORY NOTE 



request for a few words by way of introduction to 

 the first chapter in a new " Garden Book " conies at 

 perhaps one of the most barren moments in all the year's 

 twelve months. As the darkest hour is said to be just before 

 the dawn, so the point where Spring and Winter meet may 

 prove the most comfortless of seasons. Frost has disheartened 

 the tender springing that had begun among green things 

 under the earth. Snow has lain with heavy weight on garden 

 borders and flower beds, flattening them into dull unsightli- 

 ness. Hardly does one care to leave the warm fireside at 

 home, though rooks are calling in the elms, and maybe a 

 broken note or two is heard now and then from some ever- 

 hopeful wild-bird perched on some bare tree. 



There seems as yet so little to tempt one to go out ! 

 so little, except perhaps the winter aconites' chill yellow, 

 or snowdrops' frozen loveliness albeit these may be a large 

 exception. There is now nothing scarcely to inspire ; only 

 that one word GARDEN a word so full of charm, that 

 simply to behold it printed outside a book makes us long 

 immediately to look inside that book. 



A long while ago, perhaps, the name of garden, as such, 

 bore slighter meaning. Gardens were more like pleasant 

 shades to spend long Summer days in. People seemed to 

 live in them more than they now do in England. So at 

 least it would seem, judging by the old prints and oil paint- 



