The hollyhocks greet you 



Wherever they meet you, 

 With stiffest of bows, or a curt little phrase; 



But never a mullein 



Was haughty or sullen, 



And warm are their hand-shakes, if awkward their 

 ways. 



Ah! never a flower, 



Blooming wild or in bower, 

 But lives in Humanity's flora anew; 



May I ask, in conclusion, 



'Mid all this confusion, 

 What flower we shall find if we analyze you? 



Katherine H. Perry, 



d&arfcen 



"The Garden of Autographs" 



My garden is a veritable album, and as I wan- 

 der over our place I find many a dear friend or 

 happy hour commemorated in it. This little clump 

 of oxalis, naturalized so prettily in the woods, was 

 gathered one lovely day when a merry party joined 

 us in an expedition to the Profile Notch. That 

 group of lady's-slippers came from the woods of a 

 dear friend in Vermont. Here are moss-roses from a 

 magnificent rose-garden in Massachusetts, and there 

 are seedlings from the home of Longfellow, or wil- 

 lows rooted from cuttings brought from the South 

 by Frederick Law Olmsted. Hardly a flower-loving 

 friend have I who has not left an autograph in plant, 

 or shrub, or tree in my garden, and in like manner 

 many a thrifty plant has left my borders for those of 

 distant friends. Mrj> rheodore Thgmas (Rose 



A garden that one makes oneself becomes asso- 

 ciated with one's personal history, and that of one's 



