A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE COUNTRY. 83 



develops stiff clay properties, and refuses to grow 

 roses. But through every chance, these people are 

 very happy; and that is more than some better 

 gardeners contrive. 



To-night Mrs. Kitty seems to notice some difference 

 between my crowded plots and the tile-and-trellis 

 features of the Gate House pleasaunce, and to want 

 a little advice a hint or two as to how the flowers 

 here grow so tall and thick. Well, first of all, it 

 means a good deal of hardish work ; you ought to 

 see me going my rounds in the morning, Mrs. Kitty. 

 Short of opening the petals with one's fingers, one 

 has to do everything for one's flowers. Then there 

 is the grand rule : Never do to-day what you can put 

 off till to-morroiv. She smiles at me. " Of course you 

 mean ' " I mean, Madam, precisely what I say ! 

 Procrastination is the soul of gardening. There is 

 more than enough to be done in each day. Once, 

 only once, in all my horticultural career, did I accom- 

 plish in a day all I had planned to do. Learn the 

 art of Putting-off. Next, feed your family. Turn in 

 and top-dress every year tons, tons, Madam, of good 

 black hotbed stuff, three-quarters rotten, like bride- 

 cake ; of rich yellow turfs ; leaf mould ; beautiful red 

 ashes from the rubbish fire. Then, keep away rakes 

 and tittivations, and rough up your borders with that 



