Mild Garden Y 3: 
a) 
“Uf [could put my woods in song 
And tell what's there enjoyed, 
All men would to my garden throng 
And leave the cities void.” 
JURING a recent 
visit to England 
I devoted a whole 
day to a stroll through 
those glazed acres of the famous 
London conservatories. After walking 
in sensuous delight through miles of 
perfumed bowers and all manner of won- 
drous floral luxuriance, I was at length invited, as a special cour- 
tesy, to view what I was assured would prove the climax of inter- 
est and beauty, the reigning sensation in the way of an “orchid 
hybrid.” Following my guide, I soon entered the “ propagating- 
house,” wherein are born into the world every year those hun- 
dreds of hapless nondescripts against which Nature protests in 
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