August, 1915 
HOUSE AND GARDEN 
31 
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time the roses ceased bloom¬ 
ing until late autumn. I 
chose the NoctiHora variety 
for its large, silvery blossoms 
and its rare perfume. 
In one corner of the 
diminutive garden I planted 
a syringa, or mock orange 
shrub, and at the opposite 
corner, also against the wall, 
a white lilac. Neither the 
syringa nor the lilac blos¬ 
somed tbe first year, but in 
subsequent seasons the even¬ 
ing breezes were laden with 
their delicious scent, ex¬ 
quisitely blended, throughout 
the latter weeks of May and 
early June. 
Spiraeas and deutzias — two 
early spring shrubs, bearing 
a profusion of white blossoms 
— embelish the remaining 
corners of my novel garden, 
and borders of sweet alyssum 
and candytuft complete the 
outline. Lilies of the valley 
reign in a moist and secluded 
nook next the wall, mingling 
their charm with the night-scented 
stock planted nearby. 
The pure white stock I planted 
in profusion the first season and 
was rewarded during the warm, 
still nights of July and August 
with its soft, sweet odor wafted 
through the windows of my bed¬ 
chamber, though the garden was 
at least twenty yards from the 
house. I can well understand 
why Marie Antoinette selected 
this delicate flower, which the 
French call Julienne, as her favor¬ 
ite; for it is one of the most satis¬ 
fying that grows. The Germans 
call it Night Violet, as it seems to 
give forth its scent only after 
dusk has fallen. 
Nictotiana — or, as I prefer to 
call it, Star of Bethlehem — holds 
an important place in my moon¬ 
light garden. It is one of the 
flowers which refuse to bloom, 
save at night, and its delicate, 
though penetrating, aroma has 
proven a great joy. White phlox 
is another lovely member of the 
night garden group ; and the white 
petunia, whose scent is cloyingly 
sweet by day, seems to take on a 
subtler quality by night. 
The old-fashioned country pink 
—known as snow pink or star 
pink — is a welcome addition. Its 
white flowers outlined against grayish-green foliage appear almost 
phosphorescent under the shifting, dreamy shadows thrown upon 
them bv that oldest of magi¬ 
cians, the moon. 
White lilies, which open at 
sundown to flood the world 
with a wealth of inefifable 
sweetness, share with a few 
primroses a conspicuous place. 
Of the latter I selected a 
variety bearing flowers of a 
clear, creamy white. 
Tall spikes of tuberoses and 
Yucca lend a touch of the 
tropics to the aspect of the 
floral ensemble, standing out 
boldly among the smaller and 
less luxuriant plants. In the 
daytime the Yucca hangs its 
scentless bells as if overcome 
with despondency, but as 
twilight fades into night 
these bells expand like lighted 
stars and bestow upon tbe 
passerby a rich, exotic per¬ 
fume savoring of the Orient. 
I found it difficult, as in 
subsequent seasons I enlarged 
my moonlight garden, to 
eschew all the dainty, multi¬ 
colored sweet peas, keeping 
only to those bearing white blos¬ 
soms ; but, having hardened my 
heart to the gay harlequins, I was 
amply rewarded. For the white 
sweet peas have an intenser scent, 
and their flowers, with the back¬ 
ground of green foliage, resemble, 
in the moonlight, a whole school 
of merry white butterflies. 
White pansies I planted also, 
and a few white violets found a 
corner in which to thrive unham¬ 
pered ; while in the early spring 
the dainty white narcissus and 
hyacinth sweetened the air long 
before the other flowers dreamed 
of venturing forth. 
Another interesting flower — 
although it is very little grown— 
I found in the costrum parqui, 
or night-blooming jessamine, 
whose small, greenish-white blos¬ 
soms dispense a grateful odor 
throughout the dark hours. I have 
two of these plants in my garden, 
and I should advise anyone plan¬ 
ning a similar experiment in 
flower culture to purchase several 
of them. 
Another favorite is the white 
columbine — the common single 
variety with its flower so like a 
pair of doves. And the foxglove 
also are gratifying, although it is 
almost impossible to get the blos¬ 
soms in pure white. These exhibit a tendency to borrow colorings 
(Continued on page 50) 
The climbing Kaiserin Augusta Victoria and an old-fashioned white rose—the Scotch 
—covered the wall; rows of iris and phlox were before it 
Because they have a tendency to borrow color from surrounding plants, 
it is almost impossible to obtain a pure white foxglove 
