352 



Garden and Forest. 



[Number 231. 



These bushes and vines were freely trimmed by their owner 

 last autumn, no doubt, but it was in self-defense he did it ; in 

 protection of his riglit of way aloniJ his own garden-paths ; 

 and in sprinsj they show a wealth of healthy green, and blos- 

 soms which rival in number, size and perfection any prize 

 collection at an English flower-show. It is all due, of course, 

 to what Mr. Cable's engaging heroine called "doze clim^d," 

 and if climate can do all this for us within city walls, what 

 need to wander restlessly abroad, exploring country roads and 

 lanes ? Yet such strolls when the afternoon shadows have 

 grown long, and the afternoon breeze comes breathing up 

 over the piny hills and poppied fields from the unseen sea, 

 are very wholesome both for mind and body, especially the 

 former; and out in the open country we find a most rich and 

 varied vegetable life ; old friends whose welcome is sweet, 

 new faces with whom one longs to make closer acquaintance. 



But, alas ! you will, to carry on the metaphor, find it next to 

 impossible to procure a proper introduction to these rustic 

 beauties. Their very names, for the most part, will remain 

 unknown. I do not think there is such a thing as a handy 

 botany of this district, and to the average Italian of the lower 

 class wild flowers are objects which it would be beneatli his 

 dignity to observe too closely. Show him an Iris, and ask him 

 how it calls itself in Italian. Giovanni will cock his head on 

 one side, ponder sagely, and, four chances out of five, pro- 

 nounce it a rose. " Angiolina," I asked the other day, as she 

 and I were passing a clump of the great, pale lemon-colored 

 Dandelions of the region, "what is the Italian name of those 

 flowers ? " She looked at me bewildered. " Signorina, I 

 haven't the remotest idea." Not to be discouraged, I pursued 

 my catechism. " Do they ever grow any larger than those ? " 

 They were full two inches in diameter. " Oh, yes, signorina," 

 she replied briskly, "much larger; and then," triumphantly, 

 " we call them Sunflowers." 



When one is thwarted in this fashion in the pursuit of knowl- 

 edge it is better at once to renounce the vain thought of im- 

 parting useful information, and only repeat to those who may 

 be disposed to give them a practical trial some of the sugges- 

 tions which this country-side calls up. 



The field at your left is dyed deep crimson with the splendid- 

 spiked blossoms of the Sainfoin, or dark red Trefoil, long a 

 favorite in France, and sown in greater quantities every year 

 both here and in England, where enthusiastic praise is be- 

 stowed on its virtues as fodder, whether green or dry. I think 

 it might prove of practical value to our serious farmers, but let 

 the amateur, at all events, try a belt of this Clover on the du- 

 bious boundary between his lawn and mowing-field, sow- 

 ing thickly in early spring. Let him be careful to get the true 

 crimson variety, and not that which flowers rose-pink, and 

 after watching its rich green growth and the opening of its 

 close-set sturdy heads, I will predict that, if he rejects the Sain- 

 foin as a crop, he will keep it up as an ornament. 



Now lean over the hedge, and continue the line of your 

 meditations. The lane you are following winds steeply up a 

 hillside, and between its boundary hedge and the level of the 

 field beneath there is an almost perpendicular drop of eight 

 or nine feet, and on this abrupt slope a dozen sorts of grain 

 and tall blossoming grasses are nodding their heads in entic- 

 ing confusion, completely veiling it with a covering delightful 

 to the eye of the casual observer. Is not this a suggestion for 

 that terrace front beyond the garden, to which the hose will 

 not reach and which always turns brown so early in the sum- 

 mer ? You may not succeed quite so well in your combina- 

 tion as nature does after a century or two of self-sowing ; but 

 an average seed-chest has resources which are not to be de- 

 spised, and with a little patience these may be most effectively 

 supplemented by our beautiful wild grasses, and the bank 

 thus laid down will be an inexhaustible resource for your 

 flower-jars. I remember certain narrow, deep-cut, Beech- 

 shaded lanes in Surrey where native grasses were said to have 

 been systematically sown some years before, with the most 

 beautiful result at the time I wandered there. 



And here I would like to put in a plea for the formation 

 amid so many Societies for Rural Improvement, of one for 

 the Preservation of Lanes. Broad ways, between unbroken 

 lines of evenly spaced Maples or Elms, and trim bands of 

 close-cut turf are pleasant and desirable in their place, and 

 their place. is a large one ; but there should be room as well 

 for the narrow winding lane where the horses walk rather 



than trot, and the air always bears some woodland scent the 



spicy fullness of the Pines, the delicate sweetness of the wild 

 Grape-bloom, or the pungency of the Barberry ; where the 

 Birches leave room for Sumac and Blackberry vines, and the 

 Asters and Golden-rod blow no less bravely because Colum- 

 bine and Violet have preceded them. 



I would have my society do something also for the bare 

 "cuttings" and dreary borders left along new roads, assisting 

 nature in her slow business of clothing them gracefully. Its 

 province, and that of the road commissioners, should be 

 clearly defined and separated, and it should be composed of 

 members all ready to take suggestions from nature's methods, 

 and to try perpetual experiments in the introduction of the 

 wayside beauties of other lands ; content to have a dozen 

 fail if one may but succeed. Let us see what can be done 

 with some of the wild Roses of Switzerland, above all that 

 tall, red-stemmed bush which bears flowers of a deep Jacque- 

 minot crimson, among its blue-green leaves ; or, to come back 

 to this Tuscan country, with the pure white Sweet-brier, which 

 grows luxuriantly hereabout by the side of the common pale 

 pink variety. And one or two of the sweet-scented Honey- 

 suckles which gush over these hedge-rows, intertwined with a 

 Clematis which I have seen rioting at home, could they not 

 be coa.xed to endure the New England climate ? Certainly 

 there are places in America where the Rock Rose might be 

 enticed into springing, as it does here, from the face of the 

 most incurably barren cliff, and where the yellow Tulip and 

 lavender Iris might follow the line of some meadow cause- 

 way. Let us have, too, the hardier Thorns, both for the sake 

 of their spring blossoms and their winter haws, and there is 

 a species of ground Holly, with a showy scarlet fruit, nearly 

 as large as a small cherry, which is warranted to render any 

 spot inaccessible to marauders, and might be found useful as 

 well as ornamental. There is also the pale, primrose-colored 

 Dandelion, of which I have spoken before. It is a gorgeous 

 flower, but I cannot give it a first-rate moral character. It is 

 undoubtedly a sybarite, and rather than lead an honest inde- 

 pendent roadside existence, it clings to the luxuriant life of 

 the market-garden, and prefers to hang on to the skirts of 

 society there, even at the perpetual risk of being ignominiously 

 expelled. 



A little later, when summer is at its fiercest here in Tus- 

 cany, our lanes will blaze with the most superb Thistles, high 

 and low, big blossoms and small, single flowers and clustering 

 heads, bright blue and royal purple, silver-white and tawny 

 orange ; but the Thistles, too, shall be left undisturbed, and, 

 indeed, our Asters and Golden-rod give much the same range 

 of blossom-color, though their foliage cannot be compared 

 with the sculpturesque and highly decorafive leaves of the 

 Thistle. It occurs to me, however, that by insisting too much 

 on the gesthetical properties of the Thistle I may weaken in the 

 eyes of the gardener at home the force of my practical sug- 

 gestions, so I will close these desultory remarks before com- 

 promising myself further. 



Siena, Italy. Louise Dodge. 



A Bed of Hardy Perennials. 



" 'IPHE well-furnished garden should be gay with blossom 

 -•- throughout every month of the growing season." 

 This axiom being mdisputable, we have suddenly awakened 

 to the conviction that our garden is deficient in midsummer 

 attractions. A few Roses are blooming for the second time, 

 notably Madame Alfred Carri^re, which is making a display 

 that would be very creditable even in early June, and that is 

 worthy of all praise in this sultry July weather, and Madame 

 Georges Bruant, which is almost as lavish of flowers as its 

 more graceful neighbor. 



The long borders behind the house are very gay with Gera- 

 niums and sweet with Heliotrope and old-fashioned annuals, 

 and in the shrubberies are many tall, cool-looking Hollyhocks, 

 pink and white and mauve, with double and single flowersj 

 with groups of various Hypericums, whose yellow flowers are 

 most acceptable and cheerful. But with all the lavish beauty 

 of Trumpet-creepers, beloved of humming-birds, and Cle- 

 matis of many kinds, we feel that there is something lacking, 

 and are conscious that we have sadly neglected two very valu- 

 able classes of midsummer flowers. These are the herbaceous 

 perennials and the newer annuals. 



The truth is that our devotion to trees and shrubs has been 

 so faithful and absorbing that we have had no dme to spare for 

 the humbler denizens of a " perfect pleasaunce." Now, how- 

 ever, that we are awakened to a sense of our deficiencies we 

 have turned our attention to our nearest neighbors in marsh 

 and meadow, and are trying to induce some brilliant blossoms 

 near at hand to be content with a change of residence from 

 field to garden-border. We have taken up large clumps of 

 Asclepias tuberosa in full bloom and transferred them to our 

 shrubberies. Any one who has tried to move these hand- 

 some plants on a sultry day in July will doubtless remember 

 the undertaking. Almost inconceivably long and tenacious 

 are the roots, which they thrust into the rocky soil. It was 



