hood; I should hate to think they could. I've read 

 every description, every promise, thousands of times, 

 yet never has my imagination felt jaded, never have 

 I failed to experience the old-new thrill. In all the 

 world's literary classics, none contain for me the in- 

 exhaustible lure, the enchantment, the dream material, 

 to be found in the seed catalogue. 



The making of a garden is much like the forma- 

 tion of character — the loveliest mature characters 

 are often the result of many early mistakes. But the 

 very fact that the garden is a matter of growth 

 makes it worth while, and there is no art in which 

 there are such compensations in the primary grade. 

 If you have brought one flower to perfection you 

 have not failed. When a day has been hard indoors 

 and full of defeat, a walk through the garden dis- 

 pels all the mists of gloom. It is the consolation 

 of flowers which is the real tie between them and 

 mankind. And there is never strife among the 

 blossoms; they exhale peace as they breathe per- 

 fume. 



The only time a garden is disappointing is when 

 we are taking strangers through it, and I think that 

 is perhaps because flowers are so hke love. It is 

 when you walk alone, or with someone dear to you, 



4 



