THE AMATEUR GARDEN 



once he finds the second phase in a crescendo 

 of floral colors. The base of the house, and es- 

 pecially those empty eye-sockets, the cellar win- 

 dows, are veiled in exultant bloom, yellows pre- 

 dominating. Then at the back of the place 

 comes the full chorus, and red flowers overmaster 

 the yellow, though the delicate tints with which 

 the scheme began are still present to preserve the 

 dignity and suavity of all — the ladies of the 

 feast. The paths are only one or two and 

 they never turn abruptly and ask you to keep off 

 their corners; they have none. Neither have the 

 flower-beds. They flow wideningly around the 

 hard turnings of the house with the grace of a 

 rivulet. Out on the two wider sides of the lawn 

 nothing breaks the smooth green but a well- 

 situated tree or two until the limits of the prem- 

 ises are reached, and there, in lines that widen 

 and narrow and widen again and hide the sur- 

 veyor's angles, the flowers rise once more in a 

 final burst of innumerable blossoms and splendid 

 hues — a kind of sunset of the garden's own. 



When this place, five seasons ago, first entered 

 the competition, it could hardly be called a gar- 



68 



