SITUATION AND SOIL 51 



One garden director pictures thus the transfer of her classes 

 from schoolroom to garden : " Twice a week during the plant- 

 ing, cultivating, and harvesting seasons, two processions, boys 

 and girls, of fifty children each, can be seen marching, two 

 by two, through the streets of the West End to their gardens. 

 Over their shoulders, like a soldier's bayonet, are carried those 

 worthier weapons — the tools by which human society has built 

 its fabric — the hoe and the rake." 1 



A somewhat striking example of what may be done with a 

 ragged bit of city land is worth picturing in detail : This par- 

 ticular plot adjoined a school building situated in such a closely 

 settled section that the only free space belonging to it was an 

 irregular polygon squeezed into the space left by two brick 

 buildings. Here the sunshine crept in during only a very few 

 . hours each day, so that everybody called it folly to undertake 

 gardening against such heavy odds. Notwithstanding the 

 heavy handicaps, however, a garden was finally laid out ; and, 

 curiously enough, as time went on this little plot became an 

 inspiration to numbers of young gardeners throughout the city. 

 The ingenious planning, the good judgment in selecting the 

 right plants, and the discrimination shown in massing against 

 the fence a few tall and brilliant flowers made the place 

 unique. One would hardly believe how many visitors from 

 far and near were attracted by. this obscure little corner. 



They were well repaid for their journey, too, they said, 

 by a glimpse of the joyous children absorbed in work, and 

 by the quite remarkable fruits of their industry. But by far 

 the most gratifying result of this bit of garden was the love 

 displayed for it throughout the whole neighborhood. What 

 eager dark faces were always gazing over the fence ! And 

 what words of approval were murmured in Italian or in 

 softly twisted English ! 



1 Report of Boston School Garden Committee. 



