96 AN ISLAND GARDEN 



next, with a faint suffusion of a blush, and go on 

 to the next shade, still very delicate, not deeper 

 than the soft hue on the lips of the great whelk 

 shells in southern seas; then the damask rose 

 color and all tints of tender pink, then the deeper 

 tones to clear, rich cherry, and on to glowing 

 crimson, through a mass of this to burning 

 maroon. 



The flowers are of all heights (the stems of 

 different lengths), and, though massed, are in 

 broken and irregular ranks, the tallest standing 

 a little over two feet high. But there is no crush- 

 ing or crowding. Each individual has room to 

 display its full perfection. The color gathers, 

 softly flushing from the snow white at one end, 

 through all rose, pink, cherry, and crimson shades, 

 to the note of darkest red ; the long stems of ten- 

 der green showing through the clear glass, the 

 radiant tempered gold of each flower illuminating 

 the whole. Here and there a few leaves, stalks, 

 and buds (if I can bring my mind to the cutting 

 of these last) are sparingly interspersed at the 

 back. The effect of this arrangement is perfectly 

 beautiful. It is simply indescribable, and I have 

 seen people stand before it mute with delight. It 

 is like the rose of dawn. 



To the left of this altar of flowers is a little 

 table, upon which a picture stands and leans 

 against the wall at the back. In the picture two 

 Tea Roses long since faded live yet in their ex- 

 quisite hues, never indeed to die. Before this I 

 keep always a few of the fairest flowers, and call 

 this table the shrine. Sometimes it is a spray of 



