46 GARDENS AND THEIR MEANING 



public. Once resolved to try, opportunity comes halfway to 

 meet us. In fact, many an unexpected one stands knocking 

 at our very doors. Even a tiny plot, hearth-rug size, can be 

 made to do duty as a garden, inasmuch as in these days of 

 intensive farming the size of a field is the very least of its 

 assets. Says an expert farmer who heartily encourages the 

 pocket-edition garden: "No man knows yet the capacity for 

 plant growth of one square yard of earth." Large fields, then, 

 may be dispensed with, but this cannot be said of large enthu- 

 siasms. Especially in the early steps of pioneering there is 

 needed a discerning eye and an understanding heart. 



A champion of children's gardens is found in Uncle John, 1 

 long the devoted garden correspondent of so many boys and 

 girls the country over. His enthusiasm is such that all those 

 about him catch fire. Just one little incident will show how 

 far the sparks may fly. One spring morning he made with 

 some friends a pilgrimage to old Boston.- Rambling through 

 the North End, they came upon the Old North Church, 

 and, like all visitors, climbed a hundred or more steps to get 

 a bird's-eye view of the famous landmarks. Uncle John had 

 scarcely reached the top when he burst out, " Look at all 

 the little gardens ! " True enough, viewed from this his- 

 toric tower, the whole region, in spite of crowded tenements 

 and crooked streets, might fitly have been named the garden 

 quarter of the town. Eor as far as eye could reach, gay little 

 gardens dotted the housetops and fire escapes. They were 

 springing out of window boxes, old pans, cracked dishes, and 

 what not. On every side the exquisite young green of garlic, 

 lettuce, radishes, and onions was stretched up in response to 

 the coaxing warmth of a ten o'clock sun, while nasturtiums 

 and morning-glories were winding and twining around what- 

 ever their tendril fingers could clasp, here on a spout and there 



1 John \V. Spencer, Ithaca, New York. 



