September, 19 2 2 
59 
ton’s garden was so much more than 
just lovely. It was so altogether 
stimulating. You could go into it 
for a glimpse before breakfast. You 
could have tea in it in the afternoon. 
You could sit in it after dinner 
’way into the gloaming, and never 
feel that you really knew it at all, or 
that you’d ever be able to penetrate 
its charm. It affected you with a 
haunting sense of beauty like one of 
Heine’s little poems or Franz’s 
songs. And the more you went 
about and studied the tulips and 
their various combinations one by 
one and one after another, the more 
stimulating the little garden would 
become, until it seemed as though it 
were a hundred gardens all in one. 
Its appeal, too, was so varied. It 
did not limit itself to one mood or 
to one personality. There were, for 
instance, the Clara Butts, that 
circled about the little round pool 
with its Italian sky-blue painted 
bottom. You know the Clara Butts 
and their brilliant rose color. They 
look well almost anywhere. I’ve seen 
them by a brick garden wall under 
windows, and in the deeper shade of 
some splendid old masculine ginkgo 
trees. Their rose color, too, is lovely 
with all the blue May flowers, lovely 
with the blue of phlox divaricata, 
with the blue of the tall scillas, with 
the blue of the early irises. Mrs. 
Barton, herself, uses them with the 
light and feathery little flax. But 
they seemed above all to love the com¬ 
panionship of the light and cloud- 
reflecting water of the little pool 
with its vivid blue bottom. I always 
think of the Clara Butts as one’s 
first love in tulips. 
You will know what I mean when 
we compare their deep rose with the 
subtle tones that Mrs. Barton used 
(Continued on page 114) 
The garden of Mrs. C. Marshall Barton, 
Wilmington, Delaware, is enclosed by 
a rough stone wall that serves as foil to 
the subtle tones of the tidips—the yel¬ 
low of Ellen Willmott and Mrs. Keight- 
ley, the old gold of Jaune d’ Oeuf 
The brilliant rose of Clara Butt is al¬ 
ways one’s first love in tidips. In the 
Barton garden they are planted around 
the rim of a little pool, of which the 
bottom has been painted a vivid blue. 
English daisies cover the ground 
