If there is a sprig of truth left growing in Bedfordshire, I 

 entreat your Ladyship to spare me a cutting, for there is 

 not a leaf to be had in town for love or money. 

 — ^HoEACE Walpole to the Countess of Uppee Ossoby, 

 London, November, 1779. 



LINES ON READING A GARDEN ANNUAL 



What do I care if snows drift deep 

 And chill the north wind blows. 



When, in the sheltered room I keep, 

 A glorious garden grows ? 



Free flowering Ramblers climb and cling 



Immune from Bug and Blight, 

 While from the floor Show Pansies spring. 



As big as saucers, quite. 



Larkspurs and Phlox their standards rear 



So thick with flowers no room 

 Is left for leaves, and through the year 



Display Continuous Bloom. 



Exotic Ferns and Orchids Rare 



Grow rankly all about. 

 Thriving the Better without Care, 



Indifferent to the drought. 



So why revile grim winter's rage 



When summer fails to show 

 Such flowers as those the Seedman's page 



And boundless fancy know ? 



— Mildred Howells. 



