EPOCHS OF THE FORMAL GARDEN 



"Yes, of course, but I thought it winter-killed here." 



"We might possibly protect it and then have some 

 extra plants to insert in case a few died." 



"It would be perfectly lovely," assented the 

 Enthusiast; "we can but try it anyway." 



So for two summers now we have had the only per- 

 fect edging for a formal garden, the old-fashioned 

 box, kept clipped to a height of ten inches, fraught 

 with numberless associations and aromatic with the 

 memories of Italy. 



I cannot end this story of the formal garden with- 

 out some mention of the various growths on the low 

 bowlder wall which encloses it. Within the garden 

 against the north wall we planted a gardenia rose. 

 That simple statement hardly seems to warrant the thrill 

 with which we contemplate its perfection or remember 

 its wondrous efflorescence. Even when told that it is 

 a hybrid Wichuriana produced by Dawson in 1890, 

 our enthusiasm still seems unexpressed. Its almost 

 thornless stems are pale green shading to rich claret; 

 they bear clean-cut, shining leaves and semi-double 

 6 81 



