CHAPTER II 



OF HERBACEOUS BORDERS 



IT must be a quarter of a century ago, perhaps 

 a little more, since we were all beginning to ask 

 again for the beautiful hardy plants of which old- 

 fashioned gardens had once been full. The irises, 

 the larkspurs, the sweet Provence roses, the laced 

 pinks and richly scented clove carnations after 

 which our hearts hungered where were they? 

 Alas, most of them had been grubbed up years 

 before and carted away to the rubbish heap, and 

 their ashes, by the irony of fate, had gone to feed 

 the hundreds and thousands of bedding plants, 

 turned out by routine as out of a machine, which 

 had taken their places. The nurserymen could not 

 help us, for they were completely at a loss. Hardy 

 perennials had long disappeared from their cata- 

 logues, and they could only assure those who asked 

 for them, with a perplexed and anxious expression 

 on their faces, that " such plants had quite gone 

 out of date." How bitterly then we regretted the 

 old favourites of our childhood's days ! How 

 every farmhouse garden was scanned in hopes of 

 meeting again with some long-lost treasure. How 

 many unexpected shillings found their way into 

 cottage purses more scantily filled in those days 



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