□ 
February, 1915 
HOUSE AND GARDEN 
J °5 
must have a spirit, a soul, that is the expression of someone’s joy 
in creating a thing of beauty; that is its sole raison d'etre. 
“A row of sunflowers by a paling, 
A wicket left upon the latch, 
A summer-house with woodbine trailing, 
And ivy creeping o’er the thatch,” 
may be all that are required to create the desired effect — and in 
such a case “efficiency” in gardening is the strength of mind to 
be able to resist the temptation to put in something more. 
In its truest sense, the garden is an atmosphere, rather than a 
picture merely. Gay colors, sweet odors, graceful forms, which 
appeal to the physical senses, do not in themselves make a gar¬ 
den ; if they did, the ideal garden would be the commercial 
nursery, with its acres of rioting colors. They must be so com¬ 
bined as to harmonize with each other and with the spirit of the 
place. Your garden may be a garden of rest or of cheerfulness; 
one of sweet sadness, or 
even of reverence. 
The first thing we look 
for in a garden is that it 
should express the gar¬ 
dener. If it fails to do 
that it is not a garden, but 
a collection of plants. For 
that reason many elaborate 
pieces of landscape archi¬ 
tecture which are supposed 
to be wonderfully beauti¬ 
ful gardens are not gar¬ 
dens at all. You cannot 
have a garden by proxy, 
you have to labor over it; 
you have got to work in it; 
you have got to take it to 
heart; otherwise an in¬ 
tangible thread snaps some¬ 
where, and the thing you 
thought to accomplish by 
hiring a substitute you 
find cannot be done. Not 
only does the mercenary 
garden fail to satisfy its 
owner, but even the 
stranger within its gates 
can detect therein, in spite of the most beautifully kept plots and 
carefully trimmed edges, an air of hardness, coldness and aloof¬ 
ness that has a petrifying effect discernible to bis finer sense of 
appreciation. 
The real desire for a good garden, on the other hand, the en¬ 
joyment of working in it, and even the means of getting every¬ 
thing one may want for it, are not enough to insure success. You 
should know what kind of a garden you want; how to plan it so 
that it will be in good taste and in harmony with the place, as well 
as satisfying your personal ideal; and, furthermore, how to make 
it grow. 
As to the kind of a garden you may choose, it may be any 
one of three general types — the informal or naturalistic gar¬ 
den, the picturesque, and the formal. While these are all dis¬ 
tinct types, the line of separation between any two of them is not 
distinct. But, in looking over the garden or gardens on a place, 
one may usually say pretty definitely to which type they belong. 
In the majority of cases the informal or naturalistic effect will 
be tbe one that can be the most satisfactorily employed; it offers 
the widest range of possibilities, and tbe amateur is certainly 
more likely to get satisfactory results than if he attempts either of 
Most of the gardening just now is done indoors and on paper—drawing the plans, calculat¬ 
ing for the right amount of seeds, and arranging for the drainage 
the other types. As an example of picturesque gardening, the 
Japanese garden stands as an extreme, as do the Italian garden 
and the sunken garden as examples of formal gardening. The 
picturesque and the formal gardens are, of course, highly artifi¬ 
cial. But as a corollary of the old principle that “art is most per¬ 
fect which conceals itself,” so the picturesque or the formal 
garden that fails to look natural is a sorry affair indeed. Each, 
however, has its uses, and if your place or your house seems to 
make the use of one or the other desirable, by all means endeavor 
to make use of it. 
Do not allow the fact that you may make mistakes for the first 
season or two to discourage you. Overcoming such difficulties is, 
after all, part of the pleasure arid the purpose of gardens. But, 
nevertheless, you should take every possible precaution against 
making mistakes; there will be enough of them left to overcome, 
and the principal insurance against making mistakes is to make 
a definite plan before you begin tbe laying out of the various beds 
and borders or planting of 
flowering shrubs. This 
plan should show the whole 
place and should be drawn 
to scale. Jotted down upon 
it should be the walks and 
beds and borders and rows, 
which may already be 
there, and any new ones 
you may wish to add, or 
any changes you intend to 
make. You do not, of 
course, sacrifice the priv¬ 
ilege of changing your 
mind—but the point is that 
it is very much easier to 
change it on paper than on 
the lawn. And then the 
things which you actually 
do in the way of making- 
out flower beds or setting 
out trees and shrubs can 
be much more conveniently 
made part of the general 
plan of development, so 
that you will not be so 
likely to find yourself tear¬ 
ing out something you did 
last year to carry out what you want to do this year. 
The various classes of flowers differ from each other in methods 
of culture much more than do the vegetables. It is, for that 
reason, necessary to consider them in groups instead of giving, as 
we can for vegetables, general principles which will apply to 
nearly everything. But there are a few elemental principles with 
which the would-be gardener must make himself familiar. The 
fairest rose, the frailest poppy, the most delicately scented sprav 
of mignonette or heliotrope derives its nourishment from the soil 
in much the same way as a pumpkin or a cabbage, and can reach 
its fullest development only with the most careful attention of 
the gardener to such prosaic matters as proper under-drainage, 
fertilizing, manuring and cultivating. The same problems in 
regard to plant nutrition, available and unavailable plant-foods, 
properly prepared soil, protection from insects and diseases, irri¬ 
gation and numerous other matters require study just as much in 
connection with the flower garden as with the vegetable garden. 
Tbe commercial grower gives them this attention, but the amateur 
for the most part seems to think that his posies must have a 
different way of growing from his peas. 
(Continued on page 124) 
