4 AN ISLAND GARDEN 



lost in " wonder, love, and praise." All seeds are 

 most interesting, whether winged like the Dande- 

 lion and Thistle, to fly on every breeze afar ; or 

 barbed to catch in the wool of cattle or the gar- 

 ments of men, to be borne away and spread in all 

 directions over the land; or feathered like the 

 little polished silvery shuttlecocks of the Corn- 

 flower, to whirl in the wind abroad and settle 

 presently, point downward, into the hospitable 

 ground; or oared like the Maple, to row out 

 upon the viewless tides of the air. But if I were 

 to pause on the threshold of the year to consider 

 the miracles of seeds alone, I should never, I fear, 

 reach my garden plot at all ! 



He who is born with a silver spoon in his 

 mouth is generally considered a fortunate person, 

 but his good fortune is small compared to that of 

 the happy mortal who enters this world with a 

 passion for flowers in his soul. I use the word 

 advisedly, though it seems a weighty one for the 

 subject, for I do not mean a light or shallow affec- 

 tion, or even an aesthetic admiration ; no butterfly 

 interest, but a real love which is worthy of the 

 name, which is capable of the dignity of sacrifice, 

 great enough to bear discomfort of body and dis- 

 appointment of spirit, strong enough to fight a 

 thousand enemies for the thing beloved, with 

 power, with judgment, with endless patience, and 

 to give with everything else a subtler stimulus 

 which is more delicate and perhaps more neces- 

 sary than all the rest. 



Often I hear people say, " How do you make 

 your plants flourish like this?" as they admire 



