February, 19 13 



THE GARDEN MAGAZINE 



13 



the house may leak. There may be 

 water in the cellar and typhoid in the 

 well, but I spoke with Doctor Brandon 

 about it. He thinks a change would help 

 you and that there's no possible harm in 

 rinding out what it's like. But that will 

 take two or three days." 



"Take a week, if you like," I said, "but 

 don't find any lions in the way! If you 

 do, stop and shoo them off. I'll plan the 

 garden while you're gone, and do penance 

 for my sins with Aunt Cassandra." 



"There's no harm in planning a garden," 

 began Miss Clarke. 



"Oh, I'm going to," I assured her, "I've 

 sent for some catalogues already. Maybe 

 I'll get a garden-book or two 



" Go on up to New Hampshire, Clarky. 

 When you're back we'll talk it over. I 

 won't order any plants till you come 

 back!" 



So Clarky left me to Aunt Cassandra and 

 the catalogues. I confess I found the 

 catalogues the better company of the two. 



Chapter III 



I had a beatific time with the catalogues. 

 They came the morning after Clarky left. 



I had tried my best to remember how the 

 ground lay about the little house in the 

 hill country, but it was no use. All I 

 could remember was a hay-mow in the 

 barn; an apple-tree with a swing in the 

 tree, stood on a steep slope, and when you 

 swung out you went up into the branches 

 and high — fearfully, beautifully high 

 above the ground; and yellow lilies by a 

 stone wall. Once I had fallen from the wall 

 into the lilies which fixed both in my mind. 

 None of these items was of much help in 

 deciding where I'd put the garden, so I 

 quit this mental research and turned my 

 attention to what I'd put in it. 



Two catalogues I had. First I read them 

 all through and looked at all the pictures, 

 just as if I were a child and they 

 were fairy-books. They were, of 

 a kind, for you put in a seed 

 or a bulb in the ground and 

 out comes a fairy-princess. 

 It's quite as wonderful- 

 as an idea, as Aladdin 

 and the Lamp, and I was 

 to be Aladdin ! 



Then I came down to 

 practicalities. 



I took a little note-book 

 and made a "visiting list." 

 There were two reasons 

 for doing this. First, I 

 wanted to; secondly, I 

 knew that if Aunt Cas- 

 sandra came in and saw me 

 busy with a pencil, she 

 might conclude that I was 

 profitably employed and 

 not "lonesome" and that 

 she needn't come and talk 

 to me which would be 

 a gain. 



On this "visiting list" 

 I wrote down the names 



of all the flowers and bulbs and 

 shrubs I liked best. I put down the ones 

 I knew and the ones I didn't know, but 

 thought I'd like to know. Of some, I 

 liked the names — those sonorous, slow- 

 syllabled Latin names — of some the de- 

 scription was alluring. I liked the sound 

 of Lilium auratum, Helenium magniiicum, 

 Lychnis, Monarda, (Enothera, Arabis, and 

 Bellis perennis; I liked the sound of Cam- 

 panula. I think there's a bee in Pippa 

 Passes that set a campanula chalice a-swing; 

 it might do the same in my garden — any- 

 way it should have opportunity. Then 

 there were sea lavender, spring Adonis 

 — a lovely thing surely. Next came less 

 poetic reasons. I put down Gaillardia, be- 

 cause I knew and liked the Carolina Gail- 

 lards. Aconitum Napellus, I had known 

 only as a medicine and thought it but 

 fair to meet it under another guise. Digi- 

 talis, however, I excluded — I'd taken too 

 much of it! It could be as handsome as 

 it liked, but I wouldn't have it in the garden. 

 Irises and roses oh, ever so many roses! 

 These seemed more personal because most of 

 them had Christian names instead of Latin 

 ones. It sounded rather sociable to invite 

 Ulrich B runner, Frau Karl Druschki, and 

 Papa Gontier; Lady Gay, I had because she 

 sounded cheerful; I chose Mme. Casimir- 

 Perier, a lilac, because I had seen her 

 on the stage and was interested to discover 

 how she'd appear horticulturally. (Later, 

 I may say, I learned to select plants more 

 intelligently, but this 

 is the way I selected 

 them then, and 

 a fine time I had 

 doing it.) Beside 

 the names, I 

 put down color 

 and blossom 

 time and sun 

 or shade, 



I had a beatific time with the catalogues 



whichever it preferred. Then I "located," 

 as the detectives say, a box of colored 

 pencils I once had, and I underlined each 

 name with a pencil-mark as near the color 

 described as I could hit. Some of the 

 colors were puzzling. "Rosy purple," for 

 instance; the catalogue seemed very fond 

 of that and what on earth is it? "Rosy- 

 red flushed with salmon" was another 

 poser. But I finished my little note-book 

 and it looked highly interesting, albeit 

 somewhat childlike. 



Next I made a half-dozen little books 

 out of note-paper doubled over once with 

 a pin for binding and named them April, 

 May, June, July, August, September; and 

 I took my "visiting list" and entered each 

 plant where it belonged, some figured in 

 two or three books. I suppose this sounds 

 silly, but there's nothing more tiresome 

 when you're ill than trying to find what 

 you want among loose papers. Besides, 

 what I did later sounds sillier to any one 

 who hasn't been a neurasthenic and doesn't 

 know that in that case you may exhibit the 

 artlessness of childhood and the foolishness 

 of senility, but your actions don't reflect 

 the judgment and hard sense of middle life. 

 I made another book of note-paper 

 and colored the cover bright yellow. (To 

 return to my kindergarten employments.) 

 That w r as for sunshine. I cut the 

 inner leaves so that they opened index 

 fashion and gave a few leaves to each 

 month. Then I took my visiting list 

 and wrote in its proper section, first 

 the plants that must have sun; then, 

 with a division line between, those 

 catholic ones that relish either sun 

 or shade. I colored these properly, 

 for that was half the fun. 



Next I made another book 

 with the cover half green 

 and half yellow, like the garb 

 of the Pied Piper — that was 

 for partial shade; and yet 

 another book, all green, in 

 which were shade-loving 

 plants, arranged as in 

 the yellow book. Then 

 I laid back on my 

 pillows and rested 

 from my la- 

 bors, looked at 

 my little books 

 and felt proud 

 and satisfied. 

 Not yet had 

 I planned my 

 garden, but it 

 was something 

 to have the 

 dramatis per- 

 sona selected 

 . and to have 

 learned the 

 parts each 

 was capable of 

 playing. The 

 scenes couldbe 

 arranged later. 

 (To be continued) 



