138 THE JOY OF GARDENS 



until after the feast of the Annunciation, which, accord- 

 ing to tradition, they must celebrate. No other lily has as 

 many pet names or is as faithful to old gardens, multiply- 

 ing and spreading regardless of hard frosts. Whether 

 this fragrant lily is a candidum or not, the record refuses 

 to say. Indeed, a certain woman nearly came to a pitched 

 battle of words with a long-bearded gardener whom one 

 had never accused of sentiment by calling a luxuriant tall 

 white lily a candidum when none such could be found in 

 a catalogue. 



"Not so," cried this stubborn man, backing against his 

 own hedge; "these are St. Josephs, those St. Annes, those 

 of the Ascension, and these of the Annunciation," while 

 the sharpest-eyed member of the party could not dis- 

 tinguish a difference among them, and any one was a lily 

 sheaf fit for the gentle hand of one honored among 

 women. 



Bookish amateurs are wedded to Latin names mean- 

 ingless to the flower lover brought up on the homely, 

 old-fashioned terms. The only benefit that comes from 

 memorizing them is that they form a universal nomen- 

 clature, a familiar language known to gardeners whether 

 in England, France, Germany, or Norway, and the pro- 

 fessional who looks down on the humble house gardener 

 will give her respect if she approaches him with a high- 

 sounding Latin phrase, rich in resonant vowels. 



Hint to him of a glorious tiger lily you know at home 



