blossom in April. To suggest only a few of the sights which will 
tempt one to stroll along the walk, May wiU bring the delicate blossoms 
and hawthorn perfume of the Crataegus punctata, the snowy clouds of 
the dog-wood, and in the underbrush the flowers of the maple leaved 
arrow-wood, the foliage of which, in November, turns to a lovely 
pale rose, in delicious contrast to its deep blue berries. 
Autumn wiU bring the glowing purples to the leaves and stems of 
the blackberry; orange to the twining bittersweet, and crimson and 
scarlet to the oaks and dogwoods. Even through the greater part of 
the winter, tangles of honeysuckle will give their welcome green to ^ 
contrast with the tawny persistence of the oaks and the coppery tones 
of the sparse beech leaves. 
The path — planned for the recreation of both town and gown — 
is already bound to the traditions of the Campus by the use of blocks 
of stone from the University Chapel, which was destroyed by fire 
last spring. Of these stones is built a bridge by which one crosses the 
outlet of a small pool, quite at the beginning of the walk, while at the 
end, similar blocks of stone provide informal groups of steps leading 
one down by an easy descent to the level of the lake. E. M. 
Why spatter water from a hose? Any shrub, tree, or group of 
plants can be watered thus: draw the soil up in a ridge around the 
tree forming a shallow basin; be careful to leave a collar of dirt close 
to the tree to prevent injuring the bark by water. Push the end of the 
hose, without the nozzle, deep inside the dirt rim, let the basin fill 
slowly, refill if the ground is very dry, cultivate thoroughly around the 
tree within forty-eight hours. The roots will grow down toward the 
moisture. The dust mulch will prevent evaporation. The next time 
you plant a tree or shrub, try digging a square hole for it. The roots Square 
push out into the soft corners instead of running round like thread Holes for 
on a spool. Some plants commit suicide by strangling; they bind Trees 
their roots so tightly around the main stem that it dies, or is broken 
by the wind. 
My calendar says it's December. My garden looks Uke June. Santa 
Roses, stocks, hehotrope, snapdragons, calendulas, sweet-peas and Barbara 
violets are in bloom. I do not ask, "Where are the snows of y ester- Notes 
year." I know. They are drifting deep under the lilac bushes in my 
own Highland Park away in Rochester, N. Y. The Poet's Border is 
white with snowdrops — not galanthus! I am not pitying you, I am 
a tiny bit envious. I should Uke to see each twig on our fir tree 
"ridged inch deep with pearl" for — oh, let's say about five minutes! 
It would seem more like winter, and how I should like to see some of 
our pests frozen up. For instance, a gopher stiff in ice. Do you know 
the beast? A burrowing rodent which truly honeycombs the earth. 
45 
