i 9 4 THE GARDEN, YOU, AND I 



dismay I found that the long, tough stalk ran quite 

 through the clod and we had no roots at all, but that 

 (if inanimate things can laugh) they were all laughing 

 at us back in the meadow and probably another foot 

 underground. Yet brakes are well worth the trouble 

 of deep digging, for if once established, a waste bit, 

 where little else will flourish, is given a graceful under- 

 growth that is able to stand erect even though the breeze 

 plays with the little forest as it does with a field of grain. 

 Then, too, the brake patch is a treasury to be drawn 

 from when arranging tall flowers like foxgloves, lark- 

 spurs, hollyhocks, and others that have little foliage of 

 their own. 



The fact that the brake does not mature its seeds that 

 lie under the leaf margin until late summer also insures 

 it a long season of sightliness, and when ripeness 

 finally draws nigh, it comes in a series of beautiful 

 mellow shades, varying from straw through deep gold 

 to russet, such as the beech tree chooses for its autumn 

 cloak. 



Another plant there is, a low-growing shrub, having 

 long leaves with scalloped edges, giving a spicy odour 

 when crushed or after rain, that I must beg you to 

 plant with these brakes. It is called Sweet-fern, merely 

 by courtesy, from its fernlike appearance, for it is of 



