4 2 AN ISLAND GARDEN 



spirit of romance, sweet as youth's tender dreams. 

 It is summer's very soul. 



This beautiful vine will grow anywhere, for any- 

 body, only give it half a chance, such is its match- 

 less vigor. I wonder why it is not found in every 

 garden ; nothing so well repays the slightest care. 



Next in power come the Sweet Peas, blossoming 

 the livelong summer in all lovely tints save only 

 yellow, and even that the kind called Primrose 

 approaches, with its faint gold suffusion of both 

 inner and outer petals. I plant them by myriads 

 in my tiny garden all it will hold. Transplant, 

 I should say, because of my friends the birds, who 

 never leave me one if I dare plant them out of 

 doors. But this transplanting is most delightful. 

 I thoroughly enjoy digging with the hoe a long 

 trench six inches deep for the strong young seed- 

 lings, lifting them from the boxes, carefully disen- 

 tangling their long white roots each from the other 

 as I take them out, and placing them in a close 

 row the whole length of the deep furrow, letting 

 the roots drop their whole length, with no curling 

 or crowding, then half filling the hollow with 

 water, drawing the earth about the roots and 

 firming the whole with strong and gentle touch. 

 They do not droop a single leaf so transplanted ; 

 they go on growing as if nothing had happened, 

 if only they are given all the water they need. 

 Already they stretch out their delicate tendrils to 

 climb, and I love to give them for support the 

 sticks with which the farmers supply their pea 

 vines for the market; but on my island are no 

 woods, so I am thankful for humble bayberry and 



