A Long Way Round 



and even now I am not sure that victory is mine. 

 I have nightmares of my borders of blue and 

 mauve and pink being invaded by this Yellow 

 Peril. My state is much like that of the Australians 

 and the Americans of the Pacific coast. In moments 

 of depression I see yellow everywhere. 



Of course, I except daffodils, but even so, I 

 am reluctant to admit the heavy double blooms 

 that have too rich a colour. Between them and 

 the pale jonquil or the light trumpet of the wild 

 daffodil there is the difference between fresh coun- 

 try butter and the town conglomerate. . . . Pale 

 yellow is admissible even in full summer. Tall 

 handsome mullein is warmly greeted. For all his 

 stature and the beauty of his figure, mullein is 

 modest and strikes no yellower note than the lemon 

 tint in the after-glow of a dull sunset. His com- 

 plexion sorts well with the greeny-yellow of the 

 autumn lawn ; and, grown amongst the pines in 

 the woods, he looks his very best. Yellow broom 

 and yellow gorse can offend no one — in their place. 

 They are stippled yellow splashes from the paint- 

 pot, and must be set against a dark back- 

 ground. So also with the laburnum, which, if it 

 be hung against the sky, loses half the beauty of 

 its form. Laburnum should always be hung out 

 against a pine wood, or if pine woods are not 



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