THE ARNOLD ARBORETUM 



osity is a virtue. I approve of people who are 

 curious. I pity those who have no curiosity, 

 especially in the direction of things that grow. 

 In the arboretum I venture to assert that the most 

 learned in plants and trees must have that feeling 

 so dear to the collector of "What is that 9" The 

 unknown, the beautiful, the striking unknown is 

 here before the eyes; and the tantalizingness of it 

 lasts only long enough to add to the pleasure, to 

 make that pleasure piquant. One knows that no 

 sooner is the foot of plant or tree reached than 

 there is its name in clear letters, and the pencil 

 and the note-book complete the acquisition of 

 this delightful learning. 



If I may repeat — it is in the matter of settings 

 for our gardens, that we are so uninstructed. No 

 backgrounds of green, no hedges, no appreciation 

 of what a garden should be as a whole and as a 

 part of a picture. Most of us are quite as willing 

 to see delphiniums against the clapboards of a 

 garage as against the background of shrubs, which 

 might and should conceal those clapboards. The 

 reason for such willingness is not far to seek. It 

 is because the ugliness and unsuitableness of such 

 placings has not been made clear to us by com- 

 parison, comment, or criticism. "What we lose in 



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