LITTLE GARDENS 



endures closer planting and less pinching back. 

 I confess to a dislike of pruning — amputation of 

 the limbs of unresisting subjects; the thwarting 

 of nature's intent; yet the garden is unquestion- 

 ably the better for it. A florist will advise us not 

 only to tear up and cut down sweet peas and 

 poppies when they come up thickly, but will 

 have us do the like for border plants, which we 

 sow for thickness: candytuft, sweet alyssum, 

 mignonette, portulaca, clarkia, larkspur and 

 canary-bird vine. 



Before the sweet peas have ceased from 

 blooming we have the asters, with their heads of 

 red, pink, crimson, white, pale-purple and dark- 

 purple bloom. Their buds are due to open by 

 the first of September, yet I remember that they 

 are forced into flower at earlier dates — a circum- 

 stance brought to mind by the delighted remark 

 of a woman at the Chicago fair, whom I heard 

 calling to her companion, in one of the gardens, 

 " O Samanthy! Look at the chrysanthemiums 

 and Chaney oysters!" — the same signifying 

 chrysanthemums and China asters. The asters 

 carry themselves with reserve and primness, 

 greatly different from the artistic slovenhness of 

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