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CITY GARDENS— A CONTRAST. 



in which harebells now flourish ; in fact, harebells — 

 dainty creations of nature — are almost the only floral 

 element permissible in a fernery if we except the elegant 

 tracery of herb-robert, with its bright pink flowers, fresh 

 green leaves and red stems. With all these woodsy 

 treasures, my rockery is not crowded, and there is a 



chance for individual development. Mossand fern and 

 flower are here— every thing, in short, but ' ' the brook, " to 



"Sparkle out among the fern " 

 or, if preferred, to 



" Wind about, and in and out— 

 With here a blossom sailing." 



G. A. WoOLSON. 



CITY GARDENS— A CONTRAST. 



BACK YARDS IN NEW YORK AND FLORENCE. 



SIT at a rear window of a New 

 York house, and look out on 

 brick walls and high wooden 

 fences enclosing little squares 

 of back yards, and in the whole 

 interior of a large block the 

 only vegetation seen is an 

 occasional ragged spot of grass 

 and one lonely ailantus-tree. 

 Generally speaking, these 

 back yards of our city homes 

 are among the most barren 

 places of the earth. Yet it would take so little care 

 to make these forlorn bits of space into small para- 

 dises ! 



From November to March, even, there is grace and 

 beauty in the lines the vines take in their clamberings. 

 Some of them are as fine in their winter habit as when 

 in full leaf. 



The great majority of New York families are in the 

 city from the first week of September till June. This 

 gives nearly five months when a garden could be enjoyed . 

 It need not be an elaborate one, nor require much labor. 

 To plant bulbs in October or November in the long, 

 bare beds that usually border the yards, would be to get 

 a succession of flowers throughout the spring. Fruit- 

 trees— cherry , peach and apple, once put in, would ask 

 no care, and would give lovely rifts of pink and white 

 bloom for weeks. 



The wistaria, where allowed to get a foothold, covers 

 the walls with a purple flush in May and then with a noble 

 foliage till November. Other free-growing vines, like 

 the rampant Virginia creeper and the big-leaved Dutch- 

 raan's-pipe, or, if dampness is feared, the snug, close- 

 growing Japanese ivy, will kindly cover all unsightliness 

 with beauty. English ivy makes a rich, green, enduring 

 mat where other things decline to grow. 



For autumn-blooming there are many plants. Chrys- 

 anthemums put into the ground in the spring and for- 



gotten through the summer would not result in exhibi- 

 tion plants; but in November they would hold up for 

 your inspection masses of sunshine yellows and reds, 

 dull and vivid. 



Japan has furnished Rosa rugosa, a fine autumn 

 bloomer, its superb foliage changing with the frost to 

 rich reds and purples, a good plant for the city garden. 

 There are numerous others, and small trees and shrubs 

 that bloom in most of the months given to city life, and 

 that adapt themselves to close quarters, and thrive with 

 little care. 



There are vines to fit all places— some that will scale 

 any height or cover any forlorn depth ; others that will 

 grow with wide-spreading branches, creating bowers, 

 as does the wistaria, or clinging flatly, hardly taking any 

 perceptible amount of room, as dogs the Japanese ivy. 



From this rear window, looking out on the cheerless 

 and barren prospect, one feels as if man had exerted him- 

 self to get a totally uninteresting and disagreeable effect, 

 and that nature had retired disgusted. Anon, by contrast, 

 I lose this view, and am again in an old-world city, look- 

 ing down into an old-world "backyard." And, oh, 

 how beautiful it is ! 



It is Florence in early May. The garden is back of 

 a house of the three-window width, and is somewhat 

 deeper than most of our city lots would give. It is a 

 little maze of winding, graveled paths and turf-bordered 

 beds, with shrubbery and one tall, slender, feathery tree. 

 Creepers clamber over fences and house-walls. Among 

 them and on trellises blooms a perfect wealth of roses. 



At places where the narrow ways meet and widen are 

 clusters of pots with orange and lemon and fig trees, 

 stately palms and geraniums, and other blooming plants. 

 The ground of the beds under the shrubbery is covered 

 with heartsease and mignonette and like humble flowers. 

 This is a humble garden, with little money spent on it 

 from year to year, but with a flower-loving mistress. 



Looking farther away, there is nothing else quite so 

 charming to be seen, but on every side are vines and 

 shrubs and flowers. In one garden is a bower lined with 



