HOUSE AND GARDEN 
February, 1912 
53 
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seemed a pity that the blossoms closed up 
so early each morning, but I suppose that 
is really a part of their elusive charm. 
The thick mat of leaves was beautiful at 
all times, and when the moon shone on and 
through it, was lovely beyond description. 
We became inordinately proud and 
puffed-up about our garden as it grew 
lovelier every day. People passing on the 
road would stop and stare and turn back 
to look at it. Friends who came out from 
the city were gratifyingly surprised, and 
demanded to know “what we had done to 
the place since last year.” But a man who 
knows .and loves gardens paid to ours the 
compliment we most appreciated. “Your 
garden is charming,” he said. “It looks 
as if it had always grown here.” 
The Amateur Gardener and I ex¬ 
changed a look of delight. It was the 
happiest moment our garden had given 
us—that moment when we were assured 
of having, to some extent, attained the 
result we had striven for. A beautiful 
feeling of pride and satisfaction stole over 
me, and I am sure the Amateur Gardener 
shared it. 
We are not planning, though, to rest 
on our laurels. Our garden isn’t finished 
yet—it’s hardly begun. Gardening, to its 
true lover, is a fascinating game which he 
can play forever without tiring. Of 
course “it takes a lot of your time,” and 
“it’s such hard work” (I quote those with¬ 
out the pale) — but aren’t you glad you 
don’t plant a few railroad-station beds of 
geraniums and coleus and things, cut your 
grass regularly, and then sit on the porch 
and think you’ve done your duty? I am. 
The Naturalizing of a City Man 
{Continued from page 27) 
ship to Boston, as he had heard Mantell 
intended. 
But the time finally came, early in Feb¬ 
ruary, when several warm days had 
cleared off all the snow and made it com¬ 
fortable to work bare-handed out of doors, 
when they actually broke ground. 
They had to break it literally, too, but 
again chance was on their side, for the 
particular spot south of the barn which 
they had selected as the greenhouse site 
had been used to stack meadow hay and 
pile sawdust for the icehouse, and on the 
several inches of spongy, decayed vege¬ 
table matter thus accumulated, a rank 
growth of weeds had annually sprung up 
and rotted down. The frost here was not 
nearly as deep as elsewhere, and it broke 
much more readily beneath the blows of 
pick and crowbar. 
On a warm, bright Sunday afternoon 
they laid out the lines — much to the pro¬ 
fessed horror of some of the-natives who, 
if the truth were known, were glad of 
any excuse, religious or otherwise, not to 
work. 
Monday night saw the corner posts set, 
and most of the other holes dug, and Rob- 
IT was planned particularly to fit a particular available space, 
between the garden and the residence drive. And it fits it 
admirably. 
Then there’s another thing — the way it's built. You have 
noticed that it has curved eaves, adding greatly to its attractive¬ 
ness. But you say “other greenhouses have curved eaves.” 
Yes, but not the U-Bar Curved Eave. It’s the U-Bar that 
makes the U-Bar curved eave. And before you commit yourself to buying 
a house that looks like the U-Bar, look into the U-Bar itself. It’s a decided 
departure in greenhouse building. So different is it that you better send for 
a catalog and know that difference. We will send a piece of the U-bar itself 
along with it. If you would rather talk face to face with one of us, we will 
gladly send a representative who can go thoroughly into the matter with you. 
Send him to-morrow if you say so. 
And on the side benches have tomatoes. They will be in fruit all winter long — and longer. 
U-BAR GREENHOUSES 
PIERSON U-BAR CO 
ONE MADISON AVE, NEW YORK. 
Canadian ofuce. 10 Phillips place, montreai 
In writing to advertisers please mention House and Garden. 
