THE UPPER GARDEN 



fearful trepidation, the results of my last experiments. 

 Or an innocent looking pamphlet lies at the bottom of 

 my heap of business mail, a small pamphlet, loosely 

 bound about with brown paper; but if the name of 

 Horsford or Elliot or Meehan chances to be uppermost, 

 I seize it with avidity; for this is that insinuating docu- 

 ment known as "Summer Planting." Everyone ac- 

 knowledges the fascinations of the seed catalogues 

 which come to us in such tempting profusion in the 

 fall. Their size alone is bewildering, and one can 

 harden one's heart to their wiles at the beginning of 

 the season; but I defy anyone to resist the pleading 

 of that plausible and pleasant phrase "Summer 

 Planting." Has not each one of us a bare corner where 

 for some unaccountable reason the brilliant representa- 

 tions of the colored print have appeared only in 

 sickly imitation, or where a late frost has blanched an 

 enterprising early bloomer, or where some pest or 

 other has devoured its favorite food quite regardless of 

 its being your favorite flower too? All these corners 

 must be filled with something, and it is for this very 



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