COTTAGE GARDENS 163 



piece of waste land in a village. With the rude 

 curiosity of children we watched her arrival from 

 a point of vantage. She had few belongings, and 

 the odd hamper or two of old roots and cuttings did 

 not foretell future Garden beauties to our childish 

 eyes. But as if by magic, before a year had passed, 

 the Garden, under her care, became a mass of 

 blossoms. And in time over the porch grew a 

 sweet-smelling white Clematis, while on the cottage 

 walls climbed Gloire de Dijon and Monthly Roses ; 

 and in summer a long row of white Madonna Lilies 

 showed their heads above the white palings like 

 a procession of beautiful white saints. Striped 

 Carnations which for size, scent, and shape could 

 seldom be equalled, if ever surpassed scented the 

 Garden. Everything the old lady touched grew, 

 apparently not by rule but by love. She planted 

 like her neighbours, only with greater success, and 

 only where it excelled the others could her garden 

 be distinguished from a villager's. In Spring her 

 bulbs were always in bloom, and the Garden was 

 gay with Daffodils, Jonquils, Scillas, Grape Hya- 

 cinths, Wallflower, and ' Polly-urns,' as we used to 

 call them. 



" Memory still brings back the delicious scent of 

 her Garden. The perfume was wafted across the 

 little field lying between it and the church, where 

 we sat on Sunday evenings, all the doors wide open 

 during the hot, sultry summer weather. It was the 



