72 THE JOY OF GARDENS 



like any Romany lass born to the camp fire and tent 

 under the stars. 



Primroses are shyer folk that need shelter, and in a 

 protected corner, with sweet-scented stocks, hose-in-hose, 

 and cowslips, will return with the bluebirds in spring 

 and wait for the foxgloves to nod above them in June. 

 The pinks open many a lovely old-fashioned blossom, 

 transplanting with grateful compliments. 



It is pleasant to remember that all these dear old- 

 fashioned flowers are travelers, and have girdled the 

 earth in their times. The primulas are natives from the 

 rock heights of the Himalayas and distant Siberia, 

 the Johnny- jump-ups climb to the Alpine snow-line of 

 the Jungfrau, and the pinks were bred on the margins of 

 glaciers from Norway to the Pyrenees and the head- 

 waters of the Amoor. 



They are citizens of the world, scattering beauty and 

 flowers along common ways, and why not help them on 

 their ceaseless march by sowing broadcast their seeds in 

 waste places, with more of the pink-tipped and wild field 

 daisy, the Shirley poppy, the sweet William and bouncing 

 Bet 1 ? 



None of these ask for luxury, only craving permission 

 to root, and paying toll in blossoms that, plucked, bring 

 twice as many later on. Now and then in some out-of- 

 the-way corner of the world we meet a member of the 

 brotherhood of flower missioners who looks beyond his 



