80 MY GROWING GARDEN 



single Wichuraianas. Of course I scolded the 

 nurseryman; but I saw that no roses would ever 

 luxuriate in the dry shade of the location. 



The next spring I went over Memorial Day to 

 loved Eagles Mere of the mountains. There I 

 found under some old gum trees a mass of the 

 periwinkle — evidently spread from some chance 

 plant brought in by a cottager, as it is a native of 

 Europe and not of America. Some plants were 

 lifted with care, and with even more care were on 

 my return set in little pockets along those stone 

 steps. Instead of just planting them along the 

 slope, I gouged out a rather deep hole, filled it 

 with rich soil, and planted the myrtle so that 

 each plant was in the depression or recess into 

 which would run any rain falling along the slope. 

 The plants got busy at once, grew, spread as is 

 their wont, and have made a rich evergreen mat, 

 far finer than any grass I could have grown here, 

 and much better than the rose I started for. 



But once down the steps, I turn aside from 

 Lovers' Lane after another glimpse at the violets 

 and trilliums just under the edge of the rhododen- 

 drons, and pause a moment to get more pleasure 

 out of the Thunberg barberry hedge, now in 

 bloom. The lovely arching sprays of foliage in a 

 haK-dozen shades of green are enough in them- 



