TOWN GARDENS 



tree put out the first blossom. The life of the street 

 began. I did not wonder about the favoured owners of 

 the ground floor of Number Two. I knew. 



Not long after the Almond tree had bloomed a cart 

 drew up before Number Two, and three men began to 

 wheel barrow loads of earth into the front garden. They 

 were directed by a gentleman of some age, but of cheerful 

 countenance. He smiled as each load of earth was neatly 

 placed. He looked at the earth as if he already saw it 

 covered with flowers. In his mind's eye he was arrang- 

 ing a surprise for the street. 



The next event of notice in the street was the appear- 

 ance of Number Two garden, a blaze of flowers set in a 

 desert of red brick. A balcony of Number Sixteen, far 

 down the road, entered into friendly competition. 

 Numbers Five and Nine worked like slaves. Three 

 followed suit with carpet-bedding on a tiny scale. A 

 Laburnam and a Lilac sprang like magic from the soil of 

 Number Ten. Then, one day, the whole of Number One 

 burst into flower from top to toe. The tenant of each 

 floor having apparently been secretly at work to surprise 

 the rest. Two, who had started, and was indeed the 

 father of the street, put forth more strenuous efforts. 



To-day I am certain of a pleasant walk, and can come 

 out of a wilderness of bricks and mortar to my charming 

 oasis flowering in the land. I wonder if the people who 

 live in those flats and who compete with each other in a 

 friendly rivalry of blossom realise what they are doing 

 for the hundreds who pass by in the day and are cheered. 



The Association I have named before, the Metro- 

 politan Public Gardens Association, give in their state- 

 ment for 1907 a list of their window garden competitions 

 for that year. One sees that many of the poorer parts of 

 London have taken the idea, and this note I quote from 

 South Hackney shows the result : " Twelve entries. 



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