achieve, before the ice bound days of January are 

 upon us. 



So on this second of December I toss aside the 

 grey artificially scented letter, and sally forth with 

 my garden partner, arms laden with our precious 

 horde of freshly arrived Japanese lilies, making our 

 way toward Kingdom Come. Then from the cellar 

 is fetched the great box of sand which we had care- 

 fully stored away one warm, scarlet splashed autumn 

 day, in expectation of this exciting December morn- 

 ing. 



The few inches of snow are lifted with a spade and 

 the earth proves to be frozen only a little over an 

 inch! Holes twelve inches deep are dug, then the 

 good old wheelbarrow is squeaked upon the scene 

 laden with a rich compost of old manure and decayed 

 sod and weeds. The holes are given two inches of 

 compost in the bottom, then a heaping trowel of sand 

 is thrown in to make a bed for the great, luscious 

 auratum bulbs to lie in, with a counterpane of the 

 same sand to cover them. We then fill the hole with 

 the mingled compost and original soil. 



Leaves which we have prudently saved in gunny 

 sacks for this purpose, are then piled over the hole, 

 while over them moderately fresh manure is laid for 



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