XLIII 



' COME and look at my herbaceous border,' said a lady 

 The to me one fine autumn day, and I went 



Border readily, for I had never been to her house 

 before, a charming residence standing within an ample 

 well-wooded demesne. I have long since realised how 

 just was Andrew Lang's description of gardening as ' a 

 device of Providence for the pottering peace of virtuous 

 eld,' and it is to the flower-garden that I gravitate most 

 naturally on visiting a place for the first time. 



Well, my hostess's herbaceous border lacked nothing 

 in dimension. It was about 140 yards long, of ample 

 breadth, straight as a line could lay it, and crammed 

 with plants that showed unmistakable signs of skilled 

 cultivation. But it was totally devoid of charm. 

 Throughout its whole length there was nothing to 

 break or vary its shadeless uniformity. Every half- 

 dozen yards of it was a replica of every other half-dozen 

 a clump of asters, torch-lilies and helianthus in the 

 back row, with herbs of descending stature arranged 

 with mathematical precision towards the front. Having 

 inspected the first few yards, one felt no inducement to 

 go any further. True, it was chill October; asters 

 glimmered uncertainly among tarnished torch-lilies; 

 and helianthus flashed a few stars at regular intervals ; 

 no doubt there had been plenty of colour there in July, 



