THE AMATEUR GARDEN 



acre is from books except what two or three pro- 

 fessional friends have from time to time dropped 

 into my hungry ear. Both my ears have good 

 appetites — for garden lore. 



About half a mile from me, down Mill River, 

 stands the factory of a prized friend who more 

 than any other man helps by personal daily care 

 to promote Northampton's "People's Institute," 

 of whose home-garden work I have much to 

 say in the chapters that follow this one. For 

 forty years or more this factory has been known 

 far and wide as the "Hoe Shop" because it 

 makes shovels. It has never made hoes. It 

 uses water-power, and the beautiful mill-pond 

 behind its high dam keeps the river full back to 

 the rapids just above my own acre. In winter 

 this is the favorite skating-pond of the town 

 and of Smith College. In the greener seasons 

 of college terms the girls constantly pass up- 

 stream and down in their pretty rowboats and 

 canoes, making a charming effect as seen from 

 my lawn's rear edge at the head of the pine 

 and oak shaded ravine whose fish-pools are gay 

 by turns with elder, wild sunflower, sumach, 

 iris, water-lilies, and forget-me-not. 



