PUBLIC GARDENS 223 



can sit and knit; "bosquets" where "grandpapa" 

 smokes a cigar and reads Le /'^^zVyisarwo;/ undisturbed by- 

 feminine talk ; and shadow alleys where Louise, resplen- 

 dent in big cap and long scarlet ribbons, soothes Alphonse 

 as he lies, a white bundle of lace longclothes, asleep in 

 her arms. Then, too, there are "rond points," where a 

 band plays, and all the gay city world comes out to wear 

 smart clothes, to talk, and sometimes to listen to the 

 music. 



Perhaps the French can learn somewhat from us about 

 artistic groups of trees. All old-fashioned spot-and-dot 

 planting is now superseded by natural groups of the right 

 kinds commingled. As we drive or walk some spring 

 morning round the outskirts of one of the London parks, 

 we seem to be right amongst early flowering magnolias, 

 daphnes, and pink ribes. Can any other country boast 

 such pink may ? Upon undulating ground we see the 

 well-shaped trees ready to carry on colour when others 

 wane, while beneath, bold groups of irises, daffodils, and 

 other bulbs convert grass into a flowery mead. We 

 watch the gardeners as they throw the bulbs broadcast, 

 before the holes are made with dibblers in the earth, and 

 thus the flowers when they appear look as much at home 

 as the primroses and bluebells that multiply themselves, 

 unaided by man, in our woods. All this is happy, 

 natural, in its right place, it seems. What ideas a visit to 

 Hampton Court gives ! We come from there having in 

 mind a wonderful cloth-of-gold broidery effect, when we 

 have seen the long border ablaze with red and golden 

 tulips and bright yellow broom. The tapestry bed of 

 brown wallflowers, yellow-bronze tulips, and just that 

 light touch of long-stemmed white tulips tipped with 

 dainty pink — how it remains with us on our homeward 

 journey ! Can any fancy be more lasting than the 

 pleasant recollection which it leaves behind ? 



