Within My Garden Walls 43 
rooted perennials than the cool wet rocks that underlie many 
of my beds. They afford a perfect drainage, yet retain the 
moisture to an astonishing degree. Even in a very dry season 
I often find the walks of the lower garden quite damp in the 
early morning. When once rooted among these’ rocks plants 
establish themselves amazingly. I once planted seeds of the 
hollyhock mallow (Malva alcea), and as they gave no evidence 
of growth the first year I forgot all about them. Late in the 
following year I discovered a new plant in bloom, which, 
when analyzed, proved to be the forgotten mallow. I was de- 
lighted—but not for long. The third year it grew like Jack’s 
beanstalk, not the promised three feet, but five—and still on 
until eight feet high. I stood about helplessly witnessing this 
phenomenon, yet powerless to check it. It waxed still 
stronger the fourth year and covered a space of four and a half 
feet through, by eight feet high—imagine thirty-six cubic feet 
of mallow with its wretched little straggling bloom. I deter- 
mined to evict it. I used first the gentle persuasion of a potato 
digger, the most homeopathic treatment I ever apply. It 
firmly resisted. Then I got the spading fork, but the mallow 
stood unshaken. Then I seized the pickax and crowbar and 
wrought fearful havoc, extracting the greater part of it, at least 
two bushels of roots that were a foot and a half long. A little 
of it was kept to set out in the dryest and most exposed por- 
tion of the garden, and it has meekly shrunk to a three-foot 
growth. This year I found a portion still remaining in its 
former place, lording it over a fine lot of pink Lilium spe- 
ciosum and I peremptorily took off all the heads when only a 
foot high. I have decapitated it regularly once a month 
throughout the summer. It is now bigger than I am; a small 
portion has become equal to the whole, in defiance of mathe- 
matics. I mean to get it out if I have to sacrifice the pink 
lilies. 
