478 



TARE YTO WN LETTERS. 



Our thirty-mile circuit led us through pleasant 

 woodlands, with occasional openings of stumps and 

 cord-wood, not too orderly in these latter day chop- 

 pings, while false teachers are telling us that "even 

 in the purest virgin soils the ground is impure." 

 There was now and then a pond-hole with floating 

 timber or snags, whence came spotted turtles, sun- 

 ning on stumps in August, but not in early June, 

 when we were riding. In a grassy spot, with logs 

 to sit upon, we had luncheon, and there was an un- 

 der-current of strife between those women — repre- 

 senting three distinct orders of family being — as to 

 which should add to the lunch the smallest, spiciest 

 and tenderest though crisp cucumber pickles.* 



How long I had been napping on the cushions — 



ment, and both of the other women finally gave in 

 to her. She said the room occupied by some good- 

 for-nothing apple tree was space enough for a bit of 

 natural gardening. " Or," she went on, pointing to- 

 wards an abused wood lot with a knot and a springy 

 spot at the foot of it, "that would be a lovely place 

 to begin one. You can buy plenty of land like that 

 for five, ten or twenty dollars an acre, and with that 

 properly laid out you will have cities of refuge for 

 all the wild plants that are possible out of doors in 

 our climate." 



Then she told us how we might cut and grub 

 around the most charmingly natural coppices, mak- 

 ing sunny glades and fine grassy spaces, fit for any- 

 thing, out of such unkempt forest as that, and she 



(that carryall, by the way, was rigged PicHmanesque, 

 with four distinct lodgings for grown people), and 

 Brownie and Greysie had been nodding in their feed 

 bags, or wondering, perhaps, when road menders 

 would be wise enough to make as easy wheeling for 

 a pair of horses as we find in some woodlands — be- 

 fore those women returned from a walk in the forest 

 with their arms full of wild plants and their mouths 

 full of talk concerning plans to preserve the beautiful 

 things from such raids as they were making, and the 

 ravages of farmers and gardeners, I have no means 

 of knowing. For an hour after that, certainly, we 

 were the best part of a horticultural convention on 

 wheels, discussing the most feasible ways and means 

 for purely wild gardens close by our doors, in good 

 swamp style. 



One of these dowagers had the best of the argu- 



* Note. — In a private letter Mr. Tarryer wishes me to state that 

 " it was one of the dowagers." — Ed. 



stopped the carriage while she drew this rough sketch 

 of her plan on the bottom of a luncheon box. (See 

 illustration accompanying.) 



"There ! Save every tree, shrub and herbaceous 

 plant that you haven't too much of, and add more 

 at your leisure," cried dowager No. i. (I could 

 have hugged her for her sound sense of things, and 

 Mrs. Tarryer knew it! ) "You will never tire of 

 walking down those ever-changing and always un- 

 expected grass aisles, brushed over occasionally with 

 a scythe, and seeing things grow beautifully wild." 



"But how about your apple tree spaces, and 

 what will you do for anything like the water of that 

 spring?" asked dowager No. 2. 



"Well, a book of directions would not help one 

 who has no idea of plant society, but one who stud- 

 ies its rules and amenities in many woods would 

 find the drainage of her ice chest spring enough for 



