Farewell and Hail 
Truly blessings brighten as they take their flight and in preparing 
for press my last issue of the Bulletin I have (almost) wept tears of 
loneliness. I have felt forsaking and forsaken and I have wondered 
if leisure will compensate for loss. 
The Gauden Club was kind when in meeting assembled you 
asked me to reconsider my resignation, but if you did not, I do know 
what is good for you. My resignation was finally accepted on May 
26th and Mrs. T. H. B. McKnight was appointed to fill and shall we 
say overflow my place? The image is, perhaps, not a happy one but 
I do not know how else to express my conviction that my small 
achievements will be overwhelmed by her greater ones. 
My failures during the past six years have been obvious but 
may I point out two or three ways in which I think you have failed 
in your duty to the Bulletin? I do not think you have used it 
enough either to express your views or to exploit your plans. You have 
not asked through its pages the help of your fellow-members nor have 
you offered help to fellow-members in distress. You have been too 
easily discouraged if for some reason your contributions have not 
found space immediately in its very crowded pages. You have not 
said what you want and even less have you said what you do not 
want. 
Mrs. McKnight is not hardened to all these short- comings as 
am I, so for her sake turn over a new leaf. Make the Bulletin the 
real and constant meeting ground of the Garden Club oe America, 
the Club organ in more than words, the monitor and guide that only 
you can make it. 
Thank you for your patience during all these years and for your 
friendly wish to hold me to my pleasant task. I take my place as a 
veteran with every intention of keeping a very interfering finger in 
the pie and of displaying as lively and active an interest as the new 
Editor will allow, 
K. L. B. 
THE UNEXPLORER 
There was a road ran past our house 
Too lovely to explore. 
I asked my mother once — she said 
That if you followed where it led 
It brought you to the milk-man's door. 
(That's why I have not traveled more.) 
—Edna St. Vincent Millay 
in Poetry 
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