A GARDEN DIARY 153 
a vigour, and a turn for colonisation hardly to be 
exceeded by the very wildest of wild brambles. 
There is the cut-leafed bramble; there is the 
bramble of the Nootka Sound ; there is the white- 
washed bramble; there is the salmon-berry ; the 
cloudberry ; the bramble of the Rocky Mountains, 
and others, all of which I already in fancy see 
tossing themselves up and down the bracken, and 
over their wilder brethren, in one delicious froth 
of white or rose-coloured blossom. 
Another, and a yet more fascinating vision, 
sweeping over the field of my mind, has for a 
moment given it pause. What.of a jungle, not 
of brambles, but of roses? None of your trim 
standards, of course, but some of the freer kinds 
—Rosa alba, Rosa lucida, Rosa brunonis, with 
some Ayrshires, some Dundee ramblers, and 
one commanding thicket of the biggest of the 
Polyanthas? It is a heady vision, and as a por- 
tion of the natural “wildness” might intoxicate 
the brain of Lord Bacon himself. In gardening 
it does not do, however, to be too easily in- 
toxicated. We have to keep a sober head ; 
we have to look at the matter from all its 
points of view; there is the question of aspect, 
already touched upon; there is the question of 
soil; above all there is the question of fertili- 
sation—dear, delicate word! No, we must not 
allow ourselves to be carried off our feet by 
any vision, however roseate. We have always 
