Friendly Spying 



tour. My motive, however, is humility, not pride. 

 I desire not to display, but to conceal; and the 

 test is of my own gentility, not theirs. 



Am I to let them chance alone on that long 

 arid stretch of iris which lines my pathway and 

 which when out of bloom, despite all efforts spent 

 at furbishing, is a waste of rusted spears? To 

 be sure I do disclaim it as outlying territory, and 

 obviously it is not under my control. Yet half 

 the greeting which I call out from my doorstep 

 is to distract the gaze; to lead visitors well up 

 the path before they have a chance to look. Once 

 there, moreover, I still try to put on bhnders. 

 It is a pleasant prospect, this first border, cir- 

 cling from maple tree to little cedar and flanked 

 all the way by a green hedge. In June, they can- 

 not fail to be entranced by the anchusa, bright 

 against the fir tree and showering in great sprays 

 its flowers of gentian blue; or by the stretch of 

 salmon pink sweet-william among which the 

 campanulas lift snowy chalices and primroses 

 droop their delicately tinted heads. No clash- 

 ing color there, not even later when it is a mass 

 of subtly blended phlox. For one not given to 



[lOl] 



