1 68 
Old Time Gardens 
painted with fervor by artists — and still you do 
not love them. I do not love Tulips, but I wel- 
come them very cordially in my garden. Others 
have loved them ; the Tulip has had her head 
turned by attention. 
Some flowers we like at first sight, but they do 
not wear well. This is a hard truth ; and I shall 
not shame the garden-creatures who have done their 
best to please by betraying them to the world, save 
in a single case to furnish an example. In late 
August the Bergamot blossoms in luxuriant heads 
of white and purplish pink bloom, similar in tint 
to the abundant Phlox. Both grow freely in the 
garden of Sylvester Manor. When the Bergamot 
has romped in your borders for two or three years, 
you may wish to exile it to a vegetable garden, 
near the blackberry vines. Is this because it is an 
herb instead of a purely decorative flower ? You 
never thus thrust out Phlox. A friend confesses to 
me that she exiled even the splendid scarlet Berga- 
mot after she had grown it for three years in her 
flower-beds ; such subtle influences control our 
flower-loves. 
Beautiful and noble as are the grand contributions 
of the nineteenth century to us from the garden and 
fields of Japan and China, we seldom speak of loving 
them. Thus the Chinese White Wistaria is similar 
in shape of blossom to the Scotch Laburnum, though 
a far more elegant, more lavish flower ; but the 
Laburnum is the loved one. I used to read long- 
ingly of the Laburnum in volumes of English 
poetry, especially in Hood's verses, beginning: — 
