86 A GARDEN DIARY 
is to regard the garden as a battle - ground; 
colour, size, brilliancy, height, as so many tests 
of their own personal victory, and every plant, 
species and hybrid alike, as objects for them to 
shape and manipulate at their own good pleasure. 
Will these two divergent schools ultimately 
combine into one harmonious whole? Will the 
over-strenuous science of the second strengthen 
and reform the airy, somewhat weed-encouraging 
grace of the first? Will the aspiration after 
beauty of the one, in time relax the utilitarian 
tension of the other? These are questions which 
must be left to be resolved in the still unplumbed 
future. Possibly the gardener of the twenty-first 
or twenty-second century may be able to reply 
to them ! 
Pending that desirable, but still rather remote, 
contingency, I have left the lanes, and returned 
homeward, and am now looking down at our own 
somewhat chaotic little garden, with its small 
brown beds, each edged with a neat white frost- 
frill. Poor little garden! I have felt so oblivious 
of it of late that a certain compunction comes 
over me as I look at it. After all, gratitude for 
such good things as have come in one’s way is 
an undoubted part of decent living, and the most 
practical way of showing that gratitude is to 
make the best of them. Well, the year is still 
young; there will be time enough for fulfilling 
‘that, and every other small social obligation in 
