Some Gardeners I Have Known 155 
or through self-sown seeds, that one must divide his stock 
yearly to preserve any sort of balance. It takes time to secure 
the first increase, particularly if one buys only a single plant 
of any one variety; but in the course of three or four years his 
loaves are so multiplied that he can give away a basketful. If 
I have a choice recipe, a rare plant, a good book, I must share 
them; and I hope the time may come when my best and 
choicest plants shall be the common property of the entire 
region. When I give any treasure it is always with the in- 
junction—“ You must pass it along when it begins to mul- 
tiply.” If all gardens were thus distributed, we should not 
need to organize village-improvement societies; a generous 
rivalry would spring up that would leave no dooryard un- 
graced. 
Eager as I am to distribute roots and seeds, I never offer cut 
flowers to my visitors, and this withholding of what to me 
is too precious for an indiscriminate sacrifice, is often severely 
judged; yet I find all true flower lovers feel the same about 
this point. 
My home is the rendezvous of many interesting people, who 
summer in our region within a radius of fifteen miles, and 
often it would seem as if we were holding a reception. Pray 
what would my garden look like if each visitor went away 
with her two hands as full as they could hold? Asitis, Mary’s 
eyes are not always blue, nor her hair in curl. My apologies 
for bare green spots and bloomless sections are profuse; for, 
like other gardeners, my aim is to have the whole garden in 
perfect flower all the time. I wish my midsummer visitors 
were clairvoyant, and could see in my aura the loveliness of 
May and June. In August when poor Mary’s eyes no longer 
shine, I have to groom the garden and rake the walks more 
assiduously than ever to make a presentable appearance, 
much as a middle-aged belle depends more and more upon 
