And where in the world is there a more charming edging than 
that of the flower beds in Miss Davison's tiny front yard? Mary's 
cockle shells were quite put in the shade by the little three-inch pots 
of dwarf lobehas and other dainty annuals, plunged half way into the 
ground and alternated with bricks laid on edge. In some places 
five-inch pots containing taller plants, also half plunged behind these 
bricks gave variety to this very charming arrangement. 
We all know that the double Six Weeks' Stocks should be pot- 
bound to bloom its best. What a splendid idea to make a feature of 
the pot itself! 
Mrs. Crane's great Rose Garden proved to us that the old theory 
of planting teas and hybrid perpetuals in separate beds is quite wrong. 
There the rose trees, climbers, monthly and perpetuals lived happily 
together, and the tea roses around the edges of the beds, pinned down 
to cover the brown earth from view, made the touch perfect, and 
fim'shed the picture. 
In all these places Mother Nature's garden was kept within 
bounds by walls or wattled fence, but always allowed to peep over the 
top or through the gate and entice you into her domain as well. 
There were many such lessons in all the gardens visited, but one 
stands out in my memory especially. The owner was not a member 
of any Garden Club. He was a Mere Man, an Octogenarian and a 
proud native of that beautiful shore. His tiny front yard was a mass 
of bright colour, mostly red aiid yellow, of course, but a cheery sight 
for a mile or more as we motored up the road. All the bright flowers 
of a generation ago, crowding and elbowing one another for space, 
and responding gratefully for the loving care of this dear old man. 
And he had a green-house too, home-made, but able to grow flowers 
all winter in spite of the severe climate. Running from northeast to 
southwest, two walls of rubble stone were built at the end of the 
kitchen wing, the north wall about two feet higher than the other. 
On these rested ordinary 3x6 glass sash, hinged at the upper edge so 
that they might be raised and lowered for ventilation. A tiny boiler 
and two lengths of pipe sufficed to heat this little house, and the bench 
was crowded with bloom. 
It is not necessary to be an octogenarian and a native to have 
a mass of bloom like this, but it is best to be satisfied with the things 
which enjoy growing in one's own particular soil and locality. En- 
courage them with tender care, cultivate 'them according to their 
individual needs — ^make friends with them. 
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