Gay umbrellas of scarlet, green, orange and yellow alternate with 
striped awnings to protect the pretty sellers and their wares. Here is a 
booth where brown paper bags of leaf-mould, attractively done up, are 
the commodity. Mrs. Foard, whose delightful reading of the historic 
and descriptive paper at Hampton (and who that was there will ever 
forget the scene, the words, the voice!) — Mrs. Foard has the Bird 
Booth, where besides bird boxes and bird-bedecked garden stakes, one 
feels the very romance of the old South, as one is offered grey Spanish 
Moss for birds' nests and sprays of scarlet pomegranate blossom. 
Above the Geranium Booth a canopy of striped white and blue- 
green; over the vegetable and fruit booth, blue and white awnings; here 
asparagus, radishes, lettuce, tomatoes and celery, while strawberries 
from dewy gardens lie in baskets of whitest willow. The Tree-Planting 
Booth is full of interest, Mrs. Gallagher's booth. Here are excellent 
models of suburban blocks with or without trees, boughs of trees most 
suitable for use in Baltimore, and a Rogues' Gallery — nothing more nor 
less than a collection of insects injurious to trees! A model of a city 
back-yard garden is nearby, bearing the injunction Ma\c Your Back 
Yard Lh\o. This! This model has flower borders in which it is a 
pleasure to see color arrangement carefully thought out. 
A Fern Booth, hung with golden gourds filled with growing ferns, 
is an attractive sight 
Pretty women in Dutch costume are selling, of course, tulips; 
others in Italian peasant dress, equally of course, oranges, lemons and 
bananas. Flower stalls there are, booths for garden baskets from far 
countries, booths for garden furniture, garden aprons, hats and tools. 
Here are gay color, gay costumes, beauty, laughter on every side. The 
Flower Market seems the very culmination of our uniquely perfect days 
in Baltimore. As I stroll down these delicious terraces, threading my 
way past one entrancing picture after another, and watching with de- 
light the attractive women and girls whose creation this is and who give 
it its crowning charm, small wonder that the name of the old climbing 
rose runs refrain-like through my mind — "Baltimore Belle, Baltimore 
Belle." T „ 
Louisa King, 
Garden Club of Michigan. 
Iflon^Ddeoates 
Were ever "nobodies" treated as we of the genus "non-delegates" 
were at Baltimore during the Annual Meeting of The Garden Club of 
America? If the Officers and the Delegates were feted — so were we! 
The first day we lunched at the Baltimore Country Club, as 
guests of the Amateur Gardeners' Club of Baltimore, where places 
were set for one hundred and ten of us. Our hostesses were not appalled 
with our number, but changed places at each course, so that they might, 
