OUR SENTIMENTAL GARDEN 



appoint us. This sandy soil on our Surrey heights is not 

 at all appreciated by bulbs. Snowdrops will have nothing 

 to say to us, unless in a prepared bed. Narcissus Poeticus 

 disappeared altogether after one year's blooming. We are 

 trying to naturalize Bluebells in a glade which we have 

 cleared and in which this year has been planted an avenue 

 of pink May trees, to end at the bottom of the dell in a 

 group of white Azaleas but we are not at all sure that we 

 shall succeed. However, we have our compensations: 

 Azaleas thrive, and so do Rhododendrons. We are 

 year by year adding more of the former to the wild 

 slopes. 



Below the terrace, yclept the " Hemicycle," a path bor- 

 dered with Azalea Mollis was a perfect glory last May, 

 although it had only been planted the preceding autumn. 

 The " Hemicycle " was a little fairy glade of Crocus a week 

 ago, the second in February/ and we have still hope of 

 the Scillas which surround our bereft almond trees. A 

 rough wall rises from it to the Upper Terrace, over which 

 Dorothy Rambler will fling its lovely blooms' in immense 

 trails by and by / and its stones themselves hold a never- 

 ending succession of delight in the shape of Arabis, Au- 

 bretia, Cerastium, Thrift, and the like. Yellow roses 

 climb up to meet the Dorothy, and the dear little pink China 

 Rose grows in bushes all along the front between the 

 Lavender plants which we are trying to acclimatise, but 

 which, year after year, are blighted by the frost before 

 they have had time to grow strong. 

 Satisfactory as our wall-garden is, there is a wall-garden 

 at a cottage in a neighbouring village which never fails to 

 fill us with envy every time we see it. It belongs to two 

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