THE PRIMROSE GARDEN 219 



they seem to go on withiout any check whatever, and 

 are just right for blooming next spring. 



The Primrose garden is in a place by itself — a 

 clearing half shaded by Oak, Chestnut, and Hazel. I 

 always think of the Hazel as a kind nurse to Prim- 

 roses ; in the copses they generally grow together, and 

 the finest Primrose plants are often nestled close in to 

 the base of the nut-stool. Three paths run through 

 the Primrose garden, mere narrow tracks between the 

 beds, converging at both ends, something like the lines 

 of longitude on a globe, the ground widening in the 

 middle where there are two good-sized Oaks, and 

 coming to a blunt point at each end, the only other 

 planting near it being two other long-shaped strips of 

 Lily of the Valley. 



Every year, before replanting, the Primrose ground 

 is dug over and well manured. All day for two days 

 I sit on a low stool dividing the plants; a certain 

 degree of facility and expertness has come of long 

 practice. The " rubber " for frequent knife-sharpening 

 is in a pail of water by my side; the lusciously 

 fragrant heap of refuse leaf and flower-stem and old 

 stocky root rises in front of me, changing its shape 

 from a heap to a ridge, as when it comes to a certain 

 height and bulk I back and back away from it. A 

 boy feeds me with armfuls of newly-dug-up plants, 

 two men are digging-in the cooling cow-dung at the 

 farther end, and another carries away the divided 

 plants tray by tray, and carefully replants them. The 



