316 THE GARDEN OF A 



The sweet peas have done their work ; that is, 

 those of the trellised vines of the long walk. In July, 

 after a heavy rain, I planted a row of the dwarf pink 

 and white Blanche Ferry as an experiment, just as 

 we use dwarf peas in the vegetable garden for 

 autumn bearing, and they are now full of buds break- 

 ing into bloom, though the flowers are not so large as 

 those of the earlier season. 



I have never been successful in sowing the tall 

 sweet peas in succession for autumn blooming, for 

 they are of deliberate growth, and hot weather wastes 

 their vitality in feverish effort. This, to be sure, has 

 been an exceptionally equable season, and rather the 

 exception than the rule. I like to think it is a sort 

 of golden jubilee to welcome me home to my own 

 again. Even Blanche Ferry might have dried up or 

 died from mildew if August had been either wholly 

 dry or rent with battering thunder storms, as I have 

 known to be the case. Let every one who makes 

 garden plans frequently insert the letters C. P. in 

 them as a reminder, the same standing for climate 

 permitting. 



The Margaret carnations are now blooming as 

 freely as border pinks, and with the summer roses 

 give the table a fragrant bouquet once more. Helio- 

 trope is still in profusion, also the mignonette that 



