SCOTTISH GAEDENS 



can hold their own, they increase rapidly and provide 

 a feast of colour every spring. A feast to which, 

 as I was grieved to notice a few days ago, some 

 people show strange indifference. On the outskirts 

 of a small country town in south-western Scotland 

 stands an old grey house, surrounded by about an 

 acre of garden and pleasure-ground, upon which until 

 twenty years ago, the owner used to expend much 

 care, planting therein many a choice shrub and herb. 

 He died; the property passed into other hands and 

 the garden into neglect. But the purple crocuses 

 have taken possession of the whole turf, and, as I 

 passed that way one bright March morning all the 

 enclosure was steeped in Tyrian dye. All of it, 

 except where a goat was tethered on the lawn ; 

 which beast had browsed everything bare within the 

 radius of its rope ! Surely, methought, the human 

 retina is alike in all ranks and conditions of men, 

 except the colour-blind. Is there not one member 

 of this household who cares to prevent the marring 

 of this exquisite display ? 



Matters are very different at Whitehouse, where 

 the crocuses have taken possession of every available 

 breadth of turf and are the pride and delight of the 

 family. Miss Wilson has chosen for her subject the 

 spot where these pretty flowers cluster thickly round 

 an old sun-dial, which bears the inscription, MR. DAVID 

 STRACHAN, 1732, the name of a former owner of 

 Whitehouse. It might now be inscribed with a 

 legend applicable alike to the dial and the sun- 



34 



