THE STORY OF A GARDEN 1 49 



This flower corner hears the call of 

 spring before its messenger has pene- 

 trated the woodlands. Daphne meze- 

 reum, touched by early sunbeams, shows 

 its pink clusters in March, and starts 

 the glad procession before even the 

 hepatica has stirred, and the sweet 

 white violets often open where the sun 

 has made dimples in the snow. This 

 little close yields a posy every day, 

 from March until in late November it 

 offers the last pansy as a thought of 

 all the season's beauty, and even in 

 snow and ice a few sashed frames hold 

 a store of blooming violets, to keep 

 spring in the heart. 



You saw the garden when on May- 

 day, bleak and chilly, the bulb-growths 

 wrapped it in colour; then when the 

 quaint border beauties followed, and 

 when the roses rioted, and after their 

 brief festival left the earth strewn with 



