AN ISLAND GARDEN U 9 



through all their rays. "Ardent Marigolds!" 

 sang John Keats. Ardent indeed they are, with 

 fervors of color that glow like the beams of day. 



The dark crimson Jacqueminot Roses are al- 

 most gone, but almost every other flower is at its 

 best, the whole garden in blossom at once. Dearly 

 I love to sit in the sun upon the doorstep with 

 a blossom in my hand and meditate upon its 

 details, the lavish elaboration of its loveliness, to 

 study every peculiar characteristic of each, and 

 wonder and rejoice in its miraculous existence, a 

 feast more delicate and satisfying than the honey 

 the birds and bees and butterflies gather from its 

 heart. Over my head the Coboea vine droops its 

 large green and purple bells, with many another 

 flower beside. The Tropaeolum Lucifer throng- 

 ing up the trellis on either hand truly merits the 

 name of Light-bearer; its scarlet velvet blooms 

 have almost an illuminating quality. I hold a 

 flower of the pretty Love-in-a-mist, the quaint 

 Nigella, and scan its charming face. It blossoms 

 late and long, and is a flower of most distin- 

 guished beauty. It is star -shaped, in tints of 

 white, blue, and purple, with full rich stamens 

 and anthers of warmer red-purple, the petals on 

 the back delicately veined in each variety with 

 fine lines of faint green. The rich cluster of 

 stamens is surrounded at the base by eight smaller 

 inner petals in different tints, so wonderful in de- 

 tail, so ornate in decoration as to be simply inde- 

 scribable. Each large outer petal is curved and 

 cup-shaped, yet each has its finishing point which 

 makes the blossom starry, and these eight inner 



