I once saw Swan River daisy, brachyome, referred to as "the 
perfect annual," and indeed, it has every claim to that distinction 
except perfume. Its exquisite little flowers, which completely cover 
the plant, are like those of cineraria in miniature and show fascinating 
variations in details of form and color. They grow about four inches 
high, and come in lovely shades of pale blue and pink as well as white. 
I once used Swan River daisy with great success as a carpet for rose beds. 
The ordinary verbenas are, of course, too well known to need any 
word of description, but not equally familiar is the variety called 
moss verbena, with its finely cut foliage and heads of pretty lilac or 
white flowers. It grows very freely and self sows with great abun- 
dance, in both of which characteristics it differs radically from verbena 
pulcherrima, a trim erect little plant with rich reddish purple flowers 
and charming foliage. It is not as easy to raise as the other members 
of this numerous family and on account of its peculiar color needs to 
be used with some discretion. 
And finally I want to put forth the claims of viscaria, with its 
flowers shaped like those of a single pink and its gay colors, blue, 
white, red and pink. It is hardy, quick growing, free flowering, a 
thoroughly reliable and satisfactory little annual which is best sown, 
by the way, where it is to flower. 
After all, the only way to truly know flowers is to grow them one's 
self and the gardener who tries such sterling kinds as nemesia, Swan 
River daisy, layia, viscaria, diascia and linum (to mention only my 
own special favorites) will not, I am sure, be disappointed. Please 
do not think that I feel that the less-known annuals I have tried to 
describe could take the place of our old favorites. They could not, of 
course; nothing could. But a few of them here and there, will serve 
to break the pleasant monotony of calendulas and stocks and pinks 
and sweet alyssum and among them, I am confident, the flower lover 
will find at least one or two which she will be glad to number hence- 
forth as regular features of bed and borders. 
Antoinette Dwight, 
Rumson Garden Club. 
A Subtler Meaning 
If Spring were only song of bird 
And tender green and budding bough, 
Nor fancies light within us stirred 
To leave the furrow and the plough, 
And take the road — ay, beg a meal 
With some delightful ne'er-do-weel, 
