The Garden 



tions because their owner wishes all things of those shades 

 of pink, blue, or orange to fit in next to the grey or 

 crimson planting, and I long to shift the unhappy Lilium 

 pardalinum away from its sun- loving Alstroemeria part- 

 ners and plant it across the path among the shade-loving 

 Phloxes. The distribution of plants in this garden has 

 been governed chiefly by a sort of extra sense that seems 

 to be developed by many enthusiastic gardeners, a sym- 

 pathetic understanding derived from a new plant's appear- 

 ance only when the power is perfected ; but in others, 

 less qualified as clairvoyants, a knowledge of its native 

 country will often suggest its future neighbours. 



One of the finest collections of trees and shrubs to 

 be found in any private garden in England is arranged 

 by grouping them according to their native continents 

 or the larger countries, such as China. But that garden 

 is so well favoured in situation and climate that almost 

 any plant will grow in almost any part of it. Without 

 such a strict geographical system, however, one finds that 

 certain portions of the garden get allotted to N. American, 

 Mediterranean, and other plants with marked preferences 

 for sun or shade. But the sense I mean is an inexplic- 

 able knowledge and feeling, a sort of wireless message 

 from the plant to the invisible antennae of the gardener. 

 Such an one sits down to unpack a box of novelties 

 and can divide them out Trilliums to the left-hand basket 

 for the cool border, Viola bosniaca to the right for the 

 sand-moraine, with Wahlenbergia gracilis and Leucocrinum 

 montanum for companions. 



So here my sixth gardening sense, as in the last 

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