212 GARDENS PAST AND PRESENT 



own in the evening light ; but her primrose tint 

 just saves her from looking ghostly, though she, 

 too, only makes her curtsey to the lengthening 

 shadows. 



Autumn does not give us many white flowers ; 

 rich warm colouring prevails. We have the purple 

 of clematis and gold of sunflowers, the scarlet of 

 salvia and lobelia and glowing salmon-reds of 

 cactus dahlias, the orange and velvet-brown of 

 African marigolds and coreopsis. Still, some paler 

 tints remain. The pink or, by good luck, the 

 blue of hydrangeas, the white Japan anemone, 

 the varied shades of gladiolus and the lilacs and 

 purples of meadow saffron and Michaelmas daisies 

 for September is very fair, though it be with 

 the colours of the declining year, and rich with 

 the ripening fruit. 



But autumn is more than fair; it is the time 

 to be up and doing. There is something other 

 than beauty to be admired. The hour has struck 

 for stern criticism of past work and for the making 

 of new resolutions. There is no time to fold the 

 arms and moan out regrets; mistakes have to be 

 noted that they may be rectified, new combina- 

 tions and alterations have to be thought out, re- 

 movals to be planned. There is a sort of stock 

 notion that if perennials are to be transplanted 

 it is proper to wait to do it in November. Not so 

 in the experience of most old gardeners. A vast 

 number of hardy plants flower and mature their 

 growth early, and can be removed and divided to 

 much better advantage in September, while the 

 earth is still warm enough to encourage root action, 



