164 A WHITE-PAPER GARDEN 



colour, and like nothing but themselves for 

 deliciousness of scent. 



Phlox, with what Maeterlinck calls its 

 loud laughter, is an invaluable July plant. 

 Its story is so short ; it is such a little while 

 ago that the reddish-purple phlox of our 

 swampy glades began to respond to the culti- 

 vator, that it seems a type of certain dominant 

 influences which we dare not decry since we 

 owe too much to them. For eight weeks, 

 perhaps for ten, sometimes for twelve, we can 

 rely upon the phlox to keep the garden gay, 

 a virtue it shares with almost no other plant. 

 The snapdragon, with its gorgeous wayward 

 colours, is another midsummer darling, most 

 trustworthy in every regard, and the poppy 

 makes a third to this admirable trio. Mrs 

 Earle heads one of her chapters, which are the 

 delight and despair of every garden writer, 

 "Joan Silverpin," a pretty and provoking name, 

 which, however, lacks all that the older word 

 poppy means to us. There is something 

 heavy-headed and drowsy in the word, which 

 suggests the languid grace of the stems, the 

 drooping of the sleepy buds and the sensuous 

 charm of the silken blossom. A long, long 



