A'BOOK-OF'THE 
 COUNTFOT-AND 
 THE' GARDEN^ 
 
 H'M'BATSON 
 
GIFT OF 
 A. F. Morrison 
 

A BOOK OF THE COUNTRY 
 AND THE GARDEN 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 DARK : A TALE OF THE DOWN COUNTRY 
 ADAM THE GARDENER 
 THE EARTH CHILDREN 
 
 IN CONJUNCTION WITH E. D. ROSS 
 A COMMENTARY ON THE RUBA'lYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM 
 
THE WILD GARDEN IN JUNE 
 
A BOOK OF 
 
 THE COUNTRY AND 
 
 THE GARDEN 
 
 BY 
 
 H. M. BATSON 
 
 WITH 72 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 F. CARRUTHERS GOULD AND A. C. GOULD 
 
 NEW YORK 
 E. P. BUTTON & CO. 
 
 1903 
 

 GIFT OF 
 
 S o*J 
 
TO 
 
 MY SISTER 
 ANNIE L. M. KYNASTON 
 
 M102501 
 
PREFACE 
 
 THE concluding pages for the month of June 
 appeared in an extended form as an article 
 on " The Vogue of the Garden Book " in the 
 Nineteenth Century Review for June, 1900 ; the 
 description of the May-day revels is condensed 
 from a story in the Cornhill Magazine of June, 
 1897 '> tne incident of Meshach Werge's treasure 
 appeared in the number of In Town for January, 
 1897 J an d four other short sketches have been 
 published in The Country and the St. James s 
 Gazette. 
 
 To the editors of those periodicals I beg to offer 
 my thanks for their kind permission to use the 
 articles or portions of them here. 
 
 I am grateful also to two friends for help in the 
 chapters on the country and garden in autumn. 
 
 H. M. B. 
 
 HOE BENHAM 
 
 November, 1902 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 MARCH . . i 
 
 APRIL ... 27 
 
 MAY . . 60 
 
 JUNE . 9 1 
 
 JULY . . . 115 
 
 AUGUST . -137 
 
 SEPTEMBER . . . - . .162 
 
 OCTOBER . . .186 
 
 NOVEMBER . . . .211 
 
 DECEMBER . . . 242 
 
 JANUARY 271 
 
 FEBRUARY . 290 
 
 INDEX . . . . . 312 
 

 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE WILD GARDEN IN JUNE . . . Frontispiece 
 
 HEADPIECE . , . . ... I 
 
 EVERYWHERE THERE ARE SPRING BULBS . ... 3 
 
 COTTAGE AND ANNEXE . . . . . . 15 
 
 STERCULUS PICUMNUS . . . . . . l8 
 
 ENTER THE CARRIER EXPECTANT OF ORDERS . to face page 19 
 
 "I'VE SEEN A PIG IN A GARDEN" . '. . . . 21 
 
 "I'VE FIGURED IT ALL OUT" . . ... 23 
 
 HEADPIECE . . . . ... 27 
 
 ANEMONES AND STANDARD ROSES . . ... 30 
 
 DAFFODILS IN THE WILD GARDEN . . ... 32 
 
 DORONICUMS IN A GRASSY PLACE 
 
 34 
 
 LYDIA DIG . . ... 39 
 
 "MAY i. c. u. HOME, MY DEAR?" . . ... 45 
 
 THE NIGHT-JAR . . . . ... 51 
 
 YOUNG CUCKOO EJECTING HIS FOSTER-BRETHREN . 53 
 
 THE CUCKOO . . . . ... 58 
 
 MAID MARIAN AND FRIAR TUCK . . ... 63 
 
 "WHAT DO HE SAY, BETTY?" . . ... 64 
 
 THE PARISH CLERK AS BELLMAN . . to face page 64 
 
 THE CONSEQUENCES WERE OBVIOUS . . ... 66 
 
 TOMMY SANDFORD .... 68 
 
 DUCKS AND HENS, AND A PIG OR TWO . . . . 69 
 
 WHITE WEED IN A GROVE . . 73 
 
 TUBS AND HANGING BASKETS . . ... 76 
 
 AN INTRUDER . . . . 77 
 
 THE JERRY-BUILDER . . . ... 78 
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE . . . . . 8l 
 
 PETUNIA . . . . ... 83 
 
 A LEAN COUNTRYMAN * . . . . . 86 
 
 SHE SAID IT WAS TIME TO GO . . . to face page 87 
 
 CLIMBING ROSES . . . . ... 93 
 
 THE BORDERS ARE LOOKING GAY . . U face page 94 
 
 xi 
 
xii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 FLOWERS IN THE GRASS . . . . to face page 98 
 
 HAYMAKERS . . . . 99 
 
 A GIRL CAME UP THE STRAIGHT PATH . . to face page 112 
 
 EATS ALL THE BLOOMS HE CAN REACH . . . . Il8 
 
 EVENING PRIMROSES IN THE WILD GARDEN . . 119 
 
 REVELLERS . i _. 121 
 
 "THE HEIGHT OF A SHA-A-FT" . . . 122 
 
 "NOT FROM THEIR MOOTHER " . . . . 125 
 
 "THIS HERE SKETCH IS UP TO DATE" . .128 
 
 "IN MA PAWKET" . I 33 
 
 CHOIR-BOYS . . 135 
 
 REMNANTS OF FOLK LAND . . . . 14! 
 
 SMILING BY THE ROADSIDE . . 155 
 
 A CAP IN SHREDS . -157 
 
 A MOVING ORATOR . . . 159 
 
 "MY COUSIN, MR. JERVIS" . . . 167 
 
 MR. GRISKIN THE BUTCHER . ... 195 
 
 "WE ALWAYS LOOKS AFTER THE SEX" . . . ' . 196 
 
 HE HAD OMITTED TO TOUCH HIS HAT . . to face page 198 
 
 "AND I'M NOT LOVING YOU NOW". . . . . 199 
 
 "IS IT ME YOU WANT TO SEE?" . . ... 213 
 
 THE FAT BACON-PIG . . . ... 2l6 
 
 "WELL MR. MOONRAKER, HAVE YOU FOUND THE TREASURE?" 
 
 to face page 216 
 
 TWO NAUGHTY GIRLS CAME BY ; . . . . 217 
 
 SOLE POND . . . . . to face page 228 
 
 A LEARNED ENTOMOLOGIST . . . . 233 
 
 THE SHEPHERD ON CUNNIGAW HILL . ... 243 
 
 AGRICULTURAL DEPRESSION . . . . . 259 
 
 THE CHANT WITHOUT . . * . . 263 
 
 "THEE AN' i 'OOL BATTLE" . . , . . 266 
 
 "MY NAME IS MISTER GRAY" . . ... 267 
 "I'LL PUT ONE DROP ON THE TIP OF HIS TONGUE 53 . to face page 268 
 
 HAPPY JACK ., . . ~" . . . . 269 
 
 "INTERESTIN' PART OF THE COUNTRY THIS" . . . 289 
 
 STERCULUS SANK INTO THE NEAREST CHAIR '. . . 297 
 
 THE BOLTS WERE DRAWN BY AN AGED MAN. . to face page 299 
 
 "OH, MR. GHOST, DON'T 'EE HURT i!" . . . .301 
 
 THE MORNING FEAST ' .. . . .... 309 
 
 TAILPIECE . . . . * $. . 311 
 
A BOOK OF THE COUNTRY 
 AND THE GARDEN 
 
 MARCH 
 
 March 
 
 garden. 
 
 IF I had the making of my garden over 
 again I think it should be only a wild 
 There should be no flower-beds near the 
 house, and all my best plants should be grown in 
 wide borders in the kitchen plots. Close up to 
 the door would come fine turf, and grouped in it 
 there would be heather, gorse, broom, and other 
 native plants and shrubs, with winding natural 
 paths between. Further away I would encourage 
 in a bosky dell grass of a more rampant sort, in 
 which I might naturalise some of the garden plants 
 which are best adapted to this method of treatment. 
 There should be leafy borders, wet ditches, natural 
 rocky elevations, or elevations which would look 
 natural, and each with its carefully planted groups 
 of subjects fitted for their positions, all trying to 
 persuade the observer that they grew in a wild 
 B 
 
2 MARCH 
 
 state. But near the house there should be only 
 my unadorned nature garden of turf and gorse 
 and heath, arranged in Nature's own fashion of 
 simple graceful lines which man has not yet learnt 
 to improve upon. 
 
 But my garden, small as it is, is an actual fact 
 
 which has to be faced as it stands. To the south 
 
 of the house and sloping away from it are several 
 
 beds of roses, a single variety in each bed, thickly 
 
 underplanted with spring bulbs. To the north, 
 
 beyond a natural terrace, lie flower - beds, the 
 
 croquet lawn, and some long borders. Beyond 
 
 ^hese^ borders again is a young orchard thinly 
 
 l i \ planted i.wij;h; bush and standard trees, with well- 
 
 . n . .kept , . grass .paths intersecting it. There is no 
 
 ' 
 
 &ijy ^ feijte jbetween garden and orchard; the 
 paths of the latter lead out of the garden paths, 
 and are a continuation of them. This orchard is 
 my wild garden. 
 
 On the left side as I walk up the sloping ground 
 the land lies in a low bank which is planted 
 with broom and heather. The common European 
 pseonies show their heads over the grass in May ; 
 polyanthuses and primroses abound close to the 
 path, and everywhere there are spring bulbs. 
 
 On the right lies the main portion of the orchard, 
 and in the grass there are planted many good 
 things. Oriental poppies show their strong foliage; 
 perennial lupins come up in large masses ; sweet- 
 williams are dotted about plentifully, michaelmas 
 daisies, irises, giant rheums, foxgloves, alkanets, 
 doronicums, evening primroses, St. John's wort 
 these are some of the plants which abound in the 
 
MARCH 3 
 
 grass. They are by no means the only ones which 
 have been tried. More things have failed in my 
 wild garden than have thriven there. But failures 
 have been due mainly to my own ignorance, which 
 encouraged me to try impossible plants and an 
 impracticable method of growing them. 
 
 Every keen gardener has, doubtless, some main 
 ideal to which other equally valuable intentions 
 are subordinated. One, for instance, likes to have 
 a garden picture ; another, regardless of aesthetic 
 
 EVERYWHERE THERE ARE SPRING BULBS 
 
 effects, is satisfied with a gorgeous show of colour. 
 My own chief aim is neither of these. I want 
 flowers for cutting all the year round. I want 
 them from my garden for seven or eight months 
 of the year, and when I cannot reasonably expect 
 them in the open I want them from my greenhouse. 
 I like to have large quantities of them to live with, 
 and to give to friends. Flowers in the greenhouse 
 thirty yards away give me no pleasure when I am 
 sitting on a cold winter's day in my drawing-room. 
 Flowers in the garden are essential, but in the 
 
4 MARCH 
 
 sitting-rooms they are no less necessary. In fact, 
 wherever one lives there are flowers wanted, and 
 consequently the plants in my garden are mainly 
 those whose blossoms are suitable for gathering 
 and arranging in vases, thus paying a double debt 
 in their beds first, for a short space, and after- 
 wards in the rooms wherein I live. 
 
 I am bound to confess that much as I should 
 like to have a real garden wilderness I think it 
 would be impossible to get flowers enough from 
 it to justify me in giving up all my ground to it. 
 Deficiencies would be made up of course from the 
 kitchen plots, whose reserve borders for flowers 
 would be a necessity of the scheme. For the best 
 show in a wild garden is over by July. In April 
 come, with primroses and lungworts, countless bulbs 
 of a hundred kinds ; in May paeonies, fritillaries, 
 poet's narcissus, broom all under a canopy of 
 apple blossom. In June there follows a brilliant 
 display, looking glorious in the long grasses, but 
 from July onward the picture changes. The brown 
 seeding grass is hardly less beautiful, but the 
 flowers thriving in it are fewer and less showy 
 than hitherto. It would be vain to depend upon 
 them for the many purposes for which flowers 
 are required ; so the kitchen borders would be 
 wanted to fill the gaps and to prevent a famine in 
 the land. 
 
 Everything that is not ^needed elsewhere is thrust 
 out into my wild garden. All the bulbs which have 
 bloomed in pots, all the scraps of herbaceous plants 
 whose rampant growth has entailed division, all the 
 seedlings not wanted in the borders these find 
 
MARCH 5 
 
 a place in the herbage, and thrive there according 
 as they hold their own with it or no. Refuse seeds 
 are thrown broadcast into it, in the hope that a 
 stray one here or there may find a nook in which 
 it will germinate. There are few which have not 
 been tried in it, though not many have done well. 
 
 It is of no use to dibble plants among the grass 
 and to go away in the confidence that they will live 
 there. I have tried that plan with egregious 
 failure as a result. Good -sized irregular -shaped 
 beds should be dug, and the turves turned over so 
 that the grass shall die. These beds may have an 
 autumnal planting of things likely to repay the labour, 
 and may then be left alone. Apart from the 
 blooms they give they will look bare for the first 
 summer, but the surrounding grass will quickly seed 
 itself upon them, and in the second year the flowers 
 will be really springing from the grass, and the 
 effect will be beautiful. Colonies can be established 
 in this way year after year, until in the course of 
 time <J1 the ground is covered with flowering plants 
 with sparse grass between. Bulbs can be dibbled 
 into these beds as they come to hand. 
 
 There is no reason why many beautiful plants 
 from all quarters of the world should not be 
 naturalised in the wild garden. Among our own 
 British flora we find as a matter of course growing 
 in grassy places such things as foxgloves, primroses, 
 forget-me-nots, asphodels, anemones, columbines, 
 and a thousand others. Is there any valid reason 
 why in association with them we should not grow 
 under similar conditions exotics belonging to the 
 same families ? I trow not. Mr. William Robinson 
 
6 MARCH 
 
 in his delightful book, The Wild Garden, tells us 
 how good results may be secured in this way. 
 
 The yellow foxglove, one of the hardiest and 
 most robust of plants, would be a fit companion for 
 its spotted relative ; the Asiatic primroses for the 
 English. There are perhaps a good half-dozen 
 plants of the forget-me-not family which would 
 thrive with our own beautiful blue spring flower, 
 and the same may be said of the columbine in its 
 season. But even these might yield place in point 
 of fitness to the many bulbous things which could 
 not fail to do well in the herbage. Imagine an 
 orchard glittering in springtime with the narcissus 
 of a hundred varieties ; with the nodding star of 
 Bethlehem, too seldom seen ; with the fritillary in 
 many forms, the Spanish hyacinth in two or three 
 colours, the scarlet tulip, the scilla, the dog's-tooth 
 violet, the snowflake, and many more ! The 
 imagination can hardly picture anything in nature 
 more beautiful than this. And the spring show 
 would be succeeded by a summer show as beautiful 
 and even more striking, and, moreover, helped out 
 by waving grass growing naturally among the 
 flowers. I do not know any kind of gardening 
 more effective than wild gardening in its season. 
 
 Many persons who have no grass meadow to 
 devote to a wild garden could at least clo some- 
 thing to improve the terrible shrubbery which 
 reigns in every conventional English garden en- 
 closure. There are hosts of things that will 
 flourish even in such hostile society as that of deep- 
 rooting lilacs and light-excluding laurels. It would 
 be an idle effort to attempt to persuade the average 
 
MARCH 7 
 
 Englishman to abolish his belt of laurels and 
 berberis. But it might be possible to induce him, 
 at any rate, so to diminish their number that each 
 tree shall have room sufficient to assert itself and 
 to justify its existence. A laurel allowed to grow 
 into its own natural shape is not a hideous object 
 in the garden no tree that is natural is ever un- 
 beautiful. But a laurel crushed up against its 
 neighbours into a shapeless mass is ugly enough to 
 make the aesthetic soul eschew for ever the whole 
 laurel family. If this shrub is essential to the well- 
 being of the Englishman, there is, at any rate, no 
 sufficient reason why he should not have it in its 
 best form, which is its natural form. And if it is 
 given a prominent place in the garden landscape 
 a thing lamentable when its room could be taken 
 by flowering shrubs of real beauty there might be 
 encouraged under it herbaceous plants which would 
 transform the shrubbery into something approaching 
 distinction Michaelmas daisies would thrive there, 
 evening primroses, delphiniums, wallflowers, tril- 
 liums, and many more, with such bulbs as lilies, 
 irises, tulips, cyclamens, muscaris, and crocuses. 
 There is infinite scope even in the terrible shrub- 
 bery for good and tasteful gardening, provided the 
 interspaces are large enough to allow their occu- 
 pants to maintain their identity. 
 
 My garden, as I have said, is an accomplished 
 fact, so that I cannot do the thing that I would. It 
 is only by gardening that one can learn what right 
 gardening is. I have had my opportunity, and have 
 misused it. But the part I love best of my small 
 domain is not the trim grass lawn with its carefully 
 
8 MARCH 
 
 tended borders above and beds below ; not the rose 
 plot with its several hundred bushes half hidden in 
 the spring by a blaze of flowering bulbs. My 
 favourite resort is the wild garden of the orchard, 
 which, even in late summer, when its grass grows 
 brown and brittle in the wind, gives me a fuller 
 conviction of what true gardening should be than 
 do the tidy rose-beds and the carefully tended 
 borders beside the smooth lawn. 
 
 But if one cannot have the garden that experience 
 has taueht is the best and the most beautiful if life's 
 
 o 
 
 opportunities can never repeat themselves one may, 
 at any rate, make the best of the garden as it exists 
 after several years of loving tendance have brought 
 a certain amount of result in return for the trouble 
 spent upon it. As a garden it may only be a poor, 
 small thing, but at least it is my own, and cramped 
 and stupid as it may appear to the casual observer, 
 it yields as many flowers as any other of double its 
 size with which I am acquainted. 
 
 But the struggle for results has been a hard one. 
 When I first took to gardening I began with the 
 very simple plan of growing everything I could get. 
 Nothing came amiss with me, whether from the 
 auction room, or the retail salesman, or the gardens 
 and greenhouses of my friends. It seems to me in 
 retrospect that one day I said, " Go to; I will make 
 a garden." And forthwith I bought largely of what 
 sellers had to offer, supplemented by what friends 
 had to give, and then sat down to enjoy the results 
 of my labour. These were unforeseen and peculiar. 
 I had scorned the idea of growing snapdragons, 
 and larkspurs, and Canterbury bells, and suchlike 
 
MARCH 9 
 
 common things, and a close study of the growers' 
 catalogues led me to indulge plentifully in the 
 ostrowskia magnified, the romneya coulteri, the iris 
 laevigata, the crinum longifolium, the meconopsis 
 wallichii, and other glorious and important-sounding 
 subjects. When summer came the ostrowskias ap- 
 peared indeed, but only to demonstrate that they 
 found their position untenable, and had not the 
 slightest intention of thriving in it ; the romneyas 
 languished early and quite unreasonably for want 
 of water, and when supplied with it disappeared 
 altogether; the irises and the Himalayan poppies 
 never came up at all, because the soil was too dry 
 for them, and the crinums, though they have 
 flourished ever since, have never shown the slightest 
 inclination to flower. 
 
 And it was much the same in the greenhouse. 
 There were artillery plants which never found heat 
 enough to make them explode ; amaryllids that 
 stood up bravely in their greenery, but refrained, 
 from weakening themselves by flower production ; 
 yellow callas that did not bloom when blooms were 
 wanted. For the most terrible part of the business 
 was this, that all through the winter, when blossoms 
 would have been valuable, there were none to be 
 found in my greenhouse. They reserved them- 
 selves for a summer show, and flowered gaily when 
 at last for eventually I had to come down to 
 common border plants the outdoor garden was 
 able to supply all I wanted. 
 
 One year's experience of this sort of thing made 
 me realise that by some means or another "there 
 must be an holteration somewhere," as the gardener, 
 
io MARCH 
 
 Sterculus, says when he goes on the warpath. I 
 discovered through a process of exhaustion those 
 plants which would bloom in a winter temperature 
 such as we are able to maintain in our greenhouse, 
 and by degrees I eliminated all that required 
 summer sunshine or stove heat to make them 
 flower. I cannot boast of the variety which once 
 adorned my greenhouse, but at any rate the plants 
 that are in it are those which blossom at mid- 
 winter, and thus succeed summer things in our 
 living-rooms. The results might appear con- 
 temptible to many an eye, but in point of quantity 
 I think they are the best that can be obtained from 
 a thousand cubic feet of glass. 
 
 At this time of year, however, and for some 
 months to come, the greenhouse is a matter of 
 secondary importance, and no flowers, or hardly 
 any, will be found in it which required winter 
 tendance or room on its stages at that season. 
 Achimenes, begonias, gloxinias will presently be gay 
 in it, but these have lain under the shelves and have 
 given no trouble through the winter. Petunias, bal- 
 sams, and other various annuals will lend it bright- 
 ness, but they are propagated in spring, and, like 
 the tubers, have had no actual winter existence. 
 But as the earliest of these things cannot be ex- 
 
 o 
 
 pected to bloom before June, there will be plants 
 left over from late winter for the present furnishing 
 of the greenhouse, and although these will not be 
 very varied, they will be in sufficient quantity to 
 keep it bright. 
 
 There would seem, judging from results, to be 
 very few persons living in the country and owning 
 
MARCH 1 1 
 
 a limited amount of glass who really care to have 
 flowers all the year round, though I doubt if there 
 are any who would confess as much. Yet their 
 houses are crowded with plants which bloom from 
 March to October, instead of those which bloom 
 from October to March. The mischief lies in the 
 fact that they are already furnished with hard- 
 wooded plants, which year by year occupy more 
 room, yet do not give results proportionate to the 
 space they exact. But their owners would con- 
 template with horror the idea of consigning all 
 these things to the rubbish heap. I confess that 
 it required some strength of mind and considerable 
 hardening of the heart before I could persuade 
 myself to do this, and to grow for the most part 
 soft- wooded stuff; but the issue has been so much 
 more satisfactory that I have never regretted the 
 sacrifice of my cherished azaleas, bouvardias, and 
 other things of similar habit. 
 
 The plants which, most of all, perhaps, are 
 valuable in the winter are the zonal pelargoniums, 
 commonly called geraniums, and this is the time to 
 get them in hand. Cuttings are taken only from 
 those varieties which can endure to bloom in a 
 moderate winter temperature, but their name is 
 legion, and many dealers now make a speciality 
 of them. These cuttings are struck in March, and 
 are grown away rapidly for six months, and en- 
 couraged by plentiful supplies of water and suitable 
 fertilisers to make strong and free foliage. Until 
 October they are not allowed to carry a flower, 
 each incipient blossom being carefully removed as 
 soon as it appears, and until August the branches are 
 
12 MARCH 
 
 stopped as they require it, to induce a bushy shape. 
 In the hot weather they are placed in the sunniest 
 part of the garden, and never allowed to become 
 completely dry, and by the month of September, 
 when they are housed, they are good strong plants, 
 capable of flowering continuously for three or four 
 months or more. There are many amateurs who 
 fail to get satisfactory results from pelargoniums 
 in the winter, but there is no difficulty in doing 
 so if the right sorts are chosen and the summer 
 routine is carefully observed. Primulas may be 
 sown at the end of the month if they are wanted 
 for December, and a second sowing in May will 
 ensure a succession throughout the winter. 
 
 But it needs a certain amount of tenacity at this 
 time of year, when the outside garden is full of 
 promise and spring is bursting over the land, to 
 do the necessary work that is demanded for next 
 winter's enjoyment. The present time is so in- 
 finitely better than any future when that present 
 time is the spring of the year. And the reward 
 which outdoor flowers will give us is nearer than 
 that which we can expect from greenhouse plants 
 grown for next winter's enjoyment. So the place 
 of greenhouse work is taken by work in*the garden, 
 and there is much to be done in it for a long time 
 to come. 
 
 March 24. The pruning of hybrid perpetual 
 bushes needs some acquaintance with the individual 
 habit of each kind of rose. If separate beds are 
 given up to one variety, a glance at the occupants 
 at this season will tell, better than any garden book 
 could do, what bad habit is to be corrected by 
 
MARCH 13 
 
 pruning. Captain Christy, with its upright growth, 
 for instance, should be well thinned out at the 
 centre ; Countess of Oxford, which is apt to break 
 too high, should in this case be cut back to the 
 bare, hard, and apparently budless main stems ; 
 and the hardly recognisable rings, which at present 
 look incapable of bursting into growth, will send 
 forth buds which will make good branches and 
 flower as soon as any others. Eugen Ftirst requires 
 very hard pruning, because it breaks so early in 
 the spring ; and with Jean Liabaud a sharp eye 
 should be kept on that portion of growth which 
 comes direct from the soil, for the stock is apt to 
 outgrow the scion unless care is taken. And so 
 with all the other roses in a garden, each has its 
 idiosyncrasy, and must be corrected in accordance 
 with it. The usual rule for pruning is to cut back 
 to a dormant bud with an outward tendency, and 
 this rule answers exceedingly well until the gardener 
 has gained experience of his own and is able to 
 modify it in conformity with this experience. 
 
 Nearly all hardy annuals should be sown about 
 the end of March, for if this is not done until later 
 the sun's power may be so great that the seedlings 
 will not make sufficient root growth before they are 
 forced into bloom, and so their season will be a 
 short one. I have had for several years some 
 success with dahlias treated as hardy annuals. The 
 seed is gathered in the autumn and sown in March, 
 and if May frosts threaten a handful of bracken is 
 thrown over the young seedlings. They are thinned 
 to a few inches apart, and by the time the carefully 
 tended dahlias from indoors are flowering there is 
 
I 4 MARCH 
 
 also a hedge of single and semi-double dahlias in 
 the kitchen garden far exceeding them in strength 
 and floriferous value, although the blossoms are not 
 of correct form or of orthodox habit. Still they are 
 exactly what are wanted for cutting, and the supply 
 is unfailing until winter frosts lay them low. 
 
 Most of the half-hardy annuals are sown either 
 now or in April in pans or boxes in the greenhouse, 
 or else in frames outside. Nearly all of them are 
 the better for being raised from the first without 
 fire heat, and little beds in the open are quite 
 practicable for many things in sheltered gardens, 
 provided that they have the protection of glass. 
 An excellent plan for those who cannot spare cold 
 frames for this purpose is to buy a few sheets of 
 twenty-one-ounce glass, and to extemporise little 
 frames to carry the sheets. One or two laths cut 
 into pieces an inch or so smaller in each direction 
 than the glass, nailed together and laid on the 
 ground, and covered with a sheet of the glass, will 
 make an admirable shelter for a little patch of some 
 half-hardy annual. As the seedlings grow the laths 
 may be raised on bricks, and by this means the 
 young plants will be safe until the danger of frost 
 is over. They must be thinned as soon as they 
 require it, and this is the most important part of 
 the whole system of their culture. 
 
 March 25. When Jim first broke away from his 
 busy London life, having made up his mind that the 
 solitude of the country was more conducive to the 
 study of the philosophies than was the quicker, 
 strenuous existence he had led since leaving 
 the old home, he asked me to share his cottage 
 
MARCH 17 
 
 with him, and I cordially agreed to the proposal. 
 In the old times my brother had always been my 
 closest friend, and nothing could be more natural 
 now than that we should make our home together. 
 It was literally a case of making a home, for he 
 had bought a couple of labourers' cottages with 
 a meadow adjoining, and our first summer was 
 spent in building an annexe to the original structure. 
 This was his province, while the making of the 
 garden was mine. House and garden are both 
 about seven years old now, and have settled 
 down into congenial fellowship. The house looks 
 weathered and rriddle-aged with its fast-mellowing 
 brick walls and its sober thatched roof. The 
 garden with all its faults and there were many in 
 its planning is not out of harmony with the house. 
 Both are simple, humble, natural, as they should be. 
 
 We had in our efforts a valuable coadjutor in 
 the person of Sterculus Picumnus, that worthy 
 successor of the son of Faunus, who, as Dean 
 Hole in one of his most fascinating books has 
 reminded us, invented the art of spreading manure 
 on the land to enrich it for cultivation. Sterculus 
 lived for several years in our employ, and gave 
 himself up heart and soul to making our garden ; 
 then, tempted by a large wage, he left us a year 
 since for a better situation in the North of 
 England. Mrs. Sterculus Picumnus, who had 
 urged him perseveringly to this course, was a 
 person not altogether without insight, and when 
 I bade her good-bye she flung her arms round 
 my neck and wept on my bosom, crying 
 
 ''Don't lose sight of us; don't lose sight of us! 
 We might be glad of you yet." 
 c 
 
i8 
 
 MARCH 
 
 We did not lose sight of them, and they are glad 
 of us now, and we of them, after divers unhappy 
 experiences with their incompetent or unpleasing 
 successors. It is by no means a difficult thing 
 
 STERCULUS PICUMNUS 
 
 to get a good gardener for a large estate ; it is 
 extraordinarily difficult to get a good gardener for 
 a small one. We tried five in our unhappy year. 
 One drank ; a second neglected his work ; others 
 proved impossible in various respects. The last 
 
ENTER THE CARRIER EXPECTANT OF ORDERS 
 
MARCH 19 
 
 was an admirable gardener, but he never succeeded 
 in living on speaking terms with more than one 
 person at a time, his temper being execrable. 
 This is the kind of thing- that went on : 
 
 o 
 
 Enter the carrier, expectant of orders. Sterculus 
 digging at three yards' distance. 
 
 Sterculus (to the garden boy). " I wants two casts 
 o' pots from DaviesV 
 
 Boy (to carrier}. "He wants two casts o' pots 
 from DaviesV' 
 
 Carrier. " Wha" size o' pots ? " 
 
 Boy (to Sterculus]. " What size o' pots ? " 
 
 Stemdus. " Vorty-eights and twenty- vours. " 
 
 Boy (to carrier]. " Vorty-eights and twenty- vours." 
 
 Carrier. "All right." 
 
 Sterculus (viciously). "It wun't be all right if he 
 breaks 'em." 
 
 Boy (to carrier]. "It wun't be all right if you 
 breaks 'em." 
 
 Carrier (with fury). "I'll break his head if he 
 says I breaks his pots." 
 
 Boy (to Sterculus}. " He'll break your head if 
 you says he breaks your pots." 
 
 Sterculus (sarcastically]. " Let un try." 
 
 Boy (to carrier). "He says, ' You try ' ! " 
 
 Exit carrier in dire wrath. Sterculus being 
 triumphantly emergent from the fray, forgives the 
 carrier and sets up an antagonism with the cook. 
 
 This sort of thing was rather droll at first, but 
 very soon the inconveniences attaching to it made 
 the amusement pall, and after several warnings our 
 quarrelsome friend was requested to leave us ; and 
 presently our own original Sterculus discovered that 
 
20 MARCH 
 
 he would " be glad of us " again, and we are all 
 happy together once more. He is not flawless, our 
 Sterculus. No human being, save Heine, ever yet 
 found another human being flawless ; his Made ken 
 was perfect in every way, but she was unluckily 
 dead. We used to think of Sterculus as perfect 
 while he was only so far away as Northumberland ; 
 but with all his faults we are as glad of him as he is 
 of us, and our garden grows and thrives once more 
 under his diligent devotion. 
 
 March 27. We have put Sterculus's brother on 
 for a few weeks, to attend to the grass and to get it 
 into good order after a whole winter's neglect. It 
 is not often that Sterculus will permit us to employ 
 extra labour. For one thing he enjoys the grievance 
 of being overworked, and takes a sour delight in 
 pointing out the results of the labour of " one pair 
 o' 'ands." For another, he, being a Wiltshireman, 
 has but a small opinion of his neighbours in the 
 land of his adoption, and loves to liken them to 
 their own famous farm product, the Berkshire pig. 
 " I've seen a pig in a garden afore now," he says ; 
 "and I cain't say I liked the sight." But he is 
 obliging enough to allow us sometimes to employ 
 his brother Meshach, who has followed him into 
 exile, and Meshach just now is doing a very im- 
 portant work. He is a serious young man, who 
 is suffering from what is called a "conviction." 
 This has nothing to do with the law's majesty, but 
 is merely the correct phraseology in our rural dis- 
 senting circles for intimating that the sufferer is in 
 the first stage of salvation. A conviction of sin is 
 a necessary preliminary to grace. This young man 
 
MARCH 
 
 21 
 
 has been rather " gay " there is nothing more 
 reprehensible in our rustic society than a reputation 
 for gaiety, mild as its form may be and in order 
 to remove him from some other undesirable young 
 men, Jim got him the offer of a place in Patagonia, 
 where, strange to say, many of our lads find work 
 and high wages on the sheep farms. When I heard 
 that he had refused the situation, I went to ask him 
 
 "I'VE SEEN A PIG IN A GARDEN 3 ' 
 
 the reason why. He is a dreamy youth, and he 
 answered me in the intervals of turf- edging as 
 though his heart and his thoughts were alike in a 
 land that is very far off. 
 
 " Ah ! there's many a time as us wants to follow 
 out our own plans, and God has got to fetch us 
 back to do our work all over again in He's way. 
 I be for all the world like Jonah fetched back to 
 work in God's way, not in my way. We've all got 
 
22 MARCH 
 
 to be fetched back some time or another, you see, 
 ma'am." 
 
 " But you never actually started, Meshach." 
 
 "Not perhaps to say started, but my mind had 
 gone on afore. Enough fer God to fetch me back, 
 anyways. " 
 
 " And why do you think that it would have been 
 wrong for you to go ? " 
 
 " I don't think, ma'am. I knows." 
 
 " And how do you know ? " 
 
 " I shud ha' lost time. On that there v'yage 
 I'd ha' lost maybe a matter o' five or six months as 
 shud ha' bin empl'yed fer God." 
 
 " I don't think you would be more than six weeks 
 on the voyage." 
 
 " Maybe not, ma'am ; but I shud ha' lost six 
 months fer God. I've figured it all out, an' / 
 knows." 
 
 " But how do you know ? " 
 
 " Well, you see, 'tis like this yer. I was a-gwine 
 to start this spring. You minds 'twas early in 
 March I'd settled to leave. Well, ma'am, what 
 season o' the year would it ha' bin when I'd reach 
 Patagonia ? " 
 
 ."It would have been autumn there, of course. 
 Their seasons are different from ours." 
 
 " That's right, ma'am ; it would ha' bin autumn. 
 Well now, when I shud come to meet God some 
 day, how'd I 'count to Him fer my wasted 
 summer ? " 
 
 " But it wouldn't have been wasted 
 
 " Betwixt spring an' autumn there's allus a sum- 
 mer ; there's no gettin' over that. I'd ha' left here 
 
MARCH 23 
 
 in spring ; I'd ha' got there in autumn. I' wouldn't 
 ha' had no summer at all. I'd ha' bin throwin' 
 away time as ought to be empl'yed fer God." 
 
 I'VE FIGURED IT ALL OUT" 
 
 "But the time would be the same 
 " I've worked it all out in my mind. There's 
 time lost somewheres. Where 'tis lost I ain't 
 
24 MARCH 
 
 scollard enough to judge, nor it don't concern me 
 to know more about it. What I looks at is that 
 time'd ha' bin lost as I'd ought to spend fer God 
 now. That's why I says I was fetched back like 
 Jonah. God took care o' me, an' stopped my 
 wilful waste of days an' seasons afore 'twas too 
 late." 
 
 He turned with dreary determination to his clip- 
 ping. He did not want to have his conclusions 
 combated ; a principle was involved, and his face 
 was set firm. There is nothing more interesting 
 than the getting at a new point of view in some 
 fellow-mortal. 
 
 Sterculus is sowing grass seed in bare and shady 
 places, and is laboriously protecting it from birds 
 with lines of black cotton supported on sticks. 
 We do not find that much of it grows when sown 
 at this season ; the spring droughts of the last 
 years have been too cruel for seeds of many kinds, 
 and the end of August is a better time for grass 
 sowing than now. But there are bare places on 
 the green paths, and turves are difficult to get, so 
 that the second-best course must be resorted to, 
 unsatisfactory as it is likely to be. 
 
 I have a great fancy this year to try masses of 
 cool blossoms in parts of the borders where there 
 are gaps large enough for several clumps together. 
 For instance, in July and August, when the blazing 
 sun is at his fiercest, and the eye shrinks from 
 the pinks and reds and yellows of the gardener's 
 choosing, how soothing would be a mass here of 
 mauve and blue, and there of white and purple 
 generously applied ! So I am planting closely to- 
 
MARCH 25 
 
 gether a good many tubers of the fine blue com- 
 melina called celestis, and all around and between 
 it I shall have plants of the dwarfest and palest 
 ageratum, and thus attempt a harmony in these two 
 shades. The commelina is not very well known in 
 gardens, and some who have it despise it because 
 its blossoms are sparse, and mostly at the top of 
 the stalk. But if it is planted closely and guarded 
 round by plants a little shorter than itself, its 
 gentian blue is admirable in beds and borders. I 
 
 o 
 
 find that seed sown afresh every year is the easiest 
 method of growing ; but the plant forms slim tubers 
 which may be dug up in autumn and kept through 
 the winter in pots of sand in a cool greenhouse, 
 and this is the plan generally adopted for its repro- 
 duction. 
 
 Petunias are being sown for greenhouse decora- 
 tion in summer. The seed is procured from the 
 best dealers, as cheap petunia seed is one of the 
 many snares of the penny-packet salesman. For 
 tubs and boxes out of doors we generally grow the 
 old pink variety despised of Sterculus. Its flower 
 is small, and not quite of the best shade of colour, 
 but its persistence in blooming makes it welcome 
 in my garden. It begins to unfold early in June, 
 and until November frosts come it is a great sphere 
 of colour in tubs under a verandah. Its trailing 
 habit soon ensures the complete hiding of the tubs, 
 and above and around and below hang the bright, 
 rosy blossoms, never shy, never exhausted, never 
 complaining, howsoever they may be neglected. 
 They are far better worth growing than many 
 better things. 
 
26 MARCH 
 
 It is hardly too early to plant a few of the tender 
 gladioli in the reserve plots of the kitchen garden. 
 Frosts may threaten them in May, but it is not 
 difficult to protect a dozen plants or so. The main 
 supply will not be set out until next month, as 
 gladioli are most valuable late in summer when 
 many other flowers are over ; one does not really 
 want them until August. 
 
APRIL 
 
 April HTHIS is "Cuckoo Day," as it is locally 
 T 4- J. called, and the first taste of spring 
 is in the air. Hitherto we have been much 
 plagued by cold winds, but to-day the sunshine is 
 unspoilt by a north-easterly blast, and the bees 
 have come out in myriads to sip honey from the 
 arabis albida mountain-snow, as the rustics call 
 it --on the sloping rockery. Notwithstanding 
 climatic discouragement there is already a brave 
 show of flowering bulbs. Two long beds of tea 
 roses, which have just been pruned, are a mass 
 of narcissus cynosure, bordered and under-planted 
 with blue squills from Siberia, and the contrast is 
 very beautiful. In March these squills Were asso- 
 ciated with white crocuses, but the crocuses are 
 over first, as their blossoming time is shorter, and 
 the squills have thrown up a succession of bloom 
 spikes, which extend their season into that of the 
 
 27 
 
28 APRIL 
 
 daffodils. Two other beds are planted thickly with 
 mixed hyacinths, another with hyacinths all of pink 
 and creamy tints, and yet a fourth with blues and 
 cold whites. The effect is delightful. There are 
 other beds planted with tulips, but these are not 
 yet out of the bud stage. 
 
 It is very rarely that I see in gardens a series of 
 beds given over wholly to the combination of roses 
 and bulbs, which I consider one of the most satis- 
 factory which I have attempted. Rose specialists 
 have said so much to discourage the growing of 
 anything else with the queen of flowers that many 
 amateur gardeners fear to make the experiment. 
 The rose fancier naturally looks at the question 
 from the circumscribed area of the show table, and 
 it is perfectly true that one cannot have show roses 
 from beds which in spring have been radiant with 
 countless tulips. I do not for a moment contend 
 that the largest and most perfect roses can be got 
 from these beds ; it is obvious that they cannot. 
 But there is a better ideal than this of the exhibitor. 
 We do not want show roses, two or three on a 
 bush, in our everyday gardens ; we want large 
 quantities of blooms average in size, good in shape, 
 and perfect in colour blooms which we can cut by 
 the score or the hundred, leaving no gaps to tell 
 the tale. Roses of this description can be grown 
 with bulbs, and neither the roses nor the bulbs will 
 be such as one need be ashamed of. 
 
 Then, again, the bulb fancier hears with horror 
 the theory that such things as tulips and hyacinths 
 can be permanently planted and left undisturbed 
 for years between the roots of rose bushes. To 
 
APRIL 29 
 
 him the tulip and the hyacinth are semi-sacred 
 things which require annual planting, annual 
 digging, drying and storing. Doubtless his results 
 are better than mine, but mine are quite good 
 enough to make a very pleasing show in the spring, 
 and they give me no labour at any season. My 
 hyacinths have been planted for at least five or six 
 years and left undisturbed. Their flowers, cer- 
 tainly, are not so big as they were in their first 
 season, but that is a trifling matter. They are 
 quite large enough to give a beautiful effect, and 
 they have increased enormously in number since 
 they were planted. Some of the spikes, I regret 
 to say, are even now bulky enough to require 
 staking when March winds blow hard, and after 
 five years' trial of hyacinths as permanent in- 
 habitants of my rose-beds I am quite satisfied with 
 the result. 
 
 It is the same with the tulips. I confess that in 
 the first planting I went wrong with these bulbs, 
 but it was not in putting them among my roses 
 that I erred, but in buying, in some instances, 
 inferior varieties. Artus, for example, and Brutus 
 attracted me by their cheapness, and two beds 
 given over to them are a perpetual eyesore. But 
 a large terra-cotta kind, whose name I do not 
 know, is as handsome and almost as large as when 
 first planted, and another bed of La Reine is 
 equally charming, though these have dwindled 
 somewhat in size. 
 
 Another rose - bed is given over to the multi- 
 coloured crown anemones which are so easily 
 grown from seed. Seed sown now and carefully 
 
APRIL 
 
 tended gives good plants which flower all the first 
 autumn, and continue to increase in quantity, if not 
 in quality, for many years ; but some people find 
 great difficulty in raising these flowers, and a word 
 
 ANEMONES AND STANDARD ROSES 
 
 or two detailing my own experience with them may 
 be of use. 
 
 A little plot of ground in the sunniest part of 
 the kitchen garden should be carefully chosen and 
 prepared and watered. The seed may then be 
 
APRIL 31 
 
 sown and thinly covered with fine soil, and sheets 
 of newspaper laid over all. Under this paper the 
 soil must be kept moist the whole of the time that 
 the seed is germinating, and herein is the whole 
 secret of success. As it entails constant trouble 
 and attention the results are generally disappoint- 
 ing, but given the necessary conditions, anemones 
 can be raised with the greatest ease by the most 
 ignorant gardener, and if anything in the whole 
 garden looks better in May than a bed of these, 
 under-planted with pansies, I should much like to 
 see it. 
 
 One warning is necessary with regard to 
 anemones grown among roses. The beds must 
 not be manured in December, but in August, 
 when the tubers are at rest. If the operation is 
 delayed until the leaves are shooting up in late 
 autumn, they will die. 
 
 April 22. Narcissus cynosure and N. Figaro, 
 some of the loveliest of the cheaper daffodils, have 
 lost their distinctive character this year through 
 the rough, cold weather. The calyx has come 
 pure yellow instead of red-tipped, and their full 
 beauty is lost. But they are "very plenty," as 
 Sterculus says, so there is not much cause for 
 complaint. In the wild garden I have these in 
 some quantity, as well as many other varieties 
 which are greatly increasing every year. 
 
 I do not buy bulbs specially for the wild garden. 
 Every autumn I get them in large quantities for 
 culture in frames and greenhouse, and in spring, 
 when they have served their purpose there, they 
 are turned out into the orchard, being carefully 
 
32 APRIL 
 
 planted not too closely together. Here they finish 
 maturing their root and leaf growth, and here in 
 following years they flower in profusion. Each 
 season some thousands of daffodils are so treated, 
 as are also fritillaries, Italian hyacinths, erythro- 
 niums, stars of Bethlehem, crocuses, squills, and 
 even tulips, although these, I confess, do not give 
 such uniformly good results as other bulbs. They 
 come rather small, but make bright spots of colour 
 in the green, while all the others do their best 
 
 DAFFODILS IN THE WILD GARDEN 
 
 among the herbage which is their natural accom- 
 paniment. It is far more satisfactory to pick 
 daffodils from a semi-wild spot such as this than 
 to rob prominent beds of their occupants, as of 
 old I was forced to do. Of course the beds are 
 not spared ; the flowers are there to be gathered, 
 and nothing is considered immune if it is wanted 
 elsewhere. But since I have had my wild garden 
 I am bound to acknowledge that the beds present 
 a better appearance, as they are less liable to 
 depredation. 
 
APRIL 33 
 
 One of the best herbaceous plants for the wild 
 garden is the sweet-william. Mine were merely 
 thrust out into the grass three or four years ago, 
 and they hold their own and flower well there. 
 Perennial lupins are also promising handsomely, 
 with oriental poppies, single rockets, and the 
 herbaceous asters, while wallflowers and polyan- 
 thuses are a mass of colour, contrasting in their 
 sober tints with the gayer bulb colonies and with 
 the yellow doronicums which are in brilliant flower 
 now, and will last into June. 
 
 Many seeds of perennials should be sown in 
 April. Wallflowers, for instance, never make 
 noble plants if one waits till summer to sow them. 
 Delphiniums, aquilegias, the type pentstemons, 
 evening primroses, especially the beautiful creep- 
 ing cenotkera taraxacifolia, campanulas, carnations 
 are all the better for early attention if they are to 
 make strong plants before the winter. 
 
 Beds of wallflowers, common as they are with 
 us, can never look amiss if they are of the single 
 sort, and one of the best combinations I have is 
 of gold and primrose kinds planted each in a 
 fair - sized colony running into its neighbour's 
 ground. The blood-red one, which is also in- 
 dispensable, looks well with the salmon shade, 
 and these four colours are all that are needed in 
 the ordinary garden. But wallflowers judiciously 
 harmonised with bulbs bear off the palm for 
 arrangement. A bed of terra-cotta tulips planted 
 with blood-red wallflowers, and arranged in squares 
 of four three plants of the square being tulips and 
 the fourth a wallflower is inexpressibly attractive 
 
34 APRIL 
 
 when often repeated over a good - sized bed. 
 Yellow tulips and primrose wallflowers are as 
 good a mixture, and this scheme in general is 
 a pleasing change from the invariable carpet of 
 forget-me-not or red daisies, from which in most 
 gardens the wallflowers spring. Combinations of 
 bulbs, too, are a happy variation from old-established 
 ideas. A very successful one is that of the dark 
 blue hyacinth, General Havelock, with the Orange 
 Phoenix narcissus, and another as pretty has alter- 
 
 DORONICUMS IN A GRASSY PLACE 
 
 nate bulbs of the pale blue hyacinth, Lord Derby, 
 and the yellow jonquil. 
 
 April 24. How glad is the gardener to get 
 the smallest hint which may help in floriculture ! 
 It would never have occurred to me to grow spring 
 bulbs with ferns, yet to-day I have been in a garden 
 where the fernery is a mass of tulips and narcissi, 
 with tender fronds of the ferns growing beside them, 
 and ready to take their place and hide their com- 
 panions as soon as these lose their beauty. When 
 the flowers are over and the spiky leaves begin to 
 get limp, they are cut down to within about four 
 
APRIL 35 
 
 inches of the ground, and then the ferns have their 
 turn, and the mutilated bulb foliage is hidden away 
 under their green skirts until it dies down to the 
 earth. This cutting of the foliage does not interfere 
 with the next season's flowers, provided that these 
 few inches are left to help mature the bulb. The 
 effect of the arrangement is delightful at two sepa- 
 rate seasons, which is one of the main ends to 
 secure in gardening. 
 
 I have just seen the four best plants of cyclamens 
 which it has ever been my privilege to behold. 
 Not one carried less than two hundred buds and 
 blossoms. The proud owner told me their history, 
 and I make haste to record it. 
 
 Twelve months ago she was about to throw away 
 her plants as old and worthless, when it occurred to 
 her to split one of them up, and to see what might 
 happen. Accordingly she took a corm of a large 
 white kind, and divided it into four pieces, leaving 
 some growing points on each and carefully dipping 
 the raw edges into powdered charcoal to heal the 
 cuts. They were potted up separately into five- 
 inch pots, and put on a greenhouse shelf near the 
 glass until they began to grow, when they were 
 removed to a cold frame. Twice a day they were 
 syringed, and of course duly watered, and in August 
 they were shifted into pots one size larger, and 
 before cold weather came were removed into a cool 
 house, from which frost was barely excluded. Here 
 they have remained all through the winter, getting 
 plenty of air and daily moisture overhead as well 
 as at the roots. The soil, which was firmly rammed 
 into the pots, consisted of two parts of turf mould, 
 
36 APRIL 
 
 with one part of peat, one of leaf mould, a little 
 soot, and a liberal quantity of sharp sand. The 
 results are almost incredible, except to one who 
 has seen them. 
 
 My dislike to growing greenhouse plants which 
 have to stand a winter before their flowering 
 season comes does not apply to such things as 
 may be kept through that season in a cold 
 frame, so I have just been sowing seeds of the 
 chimney campanula to decorate the greenhouse 
 a year or more hence. They are sown thinly in 
 a pan of sandy soil in the cool house, and the 
 seedlings, when they are large enough to handle, 
 are pricked out into thumb-pots in a light compost, 
 and then moved to a frame. They are given a 
 shift as often as they need it, which may be twice 
 or thrice throughout the summer, care being taken 
 to prevent their getting pot- bound at any time. In 
 the winter they are kept in a protected cold frame, 
 although no special anxiety is felt about them if 
 they suffer a few degrees of frost. At the end of 
 February, or soon after, they receive their final 
 potting into seven-inch pots, or even larger if 
 necessary, and they are then placed in the green- 
 house to encourage them to move. As soon as the 
 flower stems appear weak liquid manure is applied 
 twice a week, and at all times plenty of air is given. 
 They make large and well-furnished plants, pro- 
 vided that care is taken to keep them as cool as 
 I have indicated through all their stages of growth, 
 for hardy things will not do their best if unduly 
 coddled. These and the cup-and-saucer campanulas 
 are among the most beautiful plants which can be 
 
APRIL 37 
 
 grown for the adornment of the greenhouse in early 
 summer, and it is wonderful that they are not more 
 seen, although no doubt the reason lies in the 
 trouble' that has to be taken to ensure stocky growth. 
 Another important provision for future needs is 
 the planting out of violets for autumn blooming. 
 We generally try to use for this purpose only the 
 tufts which have lived out of doors all the winter, 
 as they are hardier and healthier than those which 
 have been in frames. Each separate runner is 
 taken from the old plants and put out in a well- 
 prepared bed. If there are not runners enough 
 single crowns are used, and the plants are placed 
 a foot apart. They should not be in a shady spot, 
 though the partial shade of thin fruit trees will not 
 hurt them, and will save some watering in dry 
 weather. But the labour of watering must not 
 in any case be grudged them, for on this will de- 
 pend their value next winter. They should have 
 a good soaking whenever they seem to be getting 
 dry, and a certain amount of weak manure water 
 when they are approaching maturity will also help 
 them. All young runners are removed as they 
 appear, and at the end of August we go round 
 the roots with the spade at a distance of several 
 inches from the plants. This leads them to throw 
 out new fibres, which, when the plants are trans- 
 ferred to the frames about the third week in 
 September, will the more easily accommodate 
 themselves to their new soil and prevent any 
 check being felt from lifting. At the time of their 
 removal they will be bristling with buds, and unless 
 they suffer from too much kindness directly after- 
 
38 APRIL 
 
 wards they should give large quantities of flowers 
 from October onwards. 
 
 The first sowing of cinerarias for the winter is now 
 being made, and cuttings of fibrous-rooted begonias 
 are being struck. This necessity of forethought 
 is generally supposed by persons who are not 
 gardeners to be an intolerable nuisance, but it is in 
 reality one of the joys of floriculture ; the flowers 
 are so much the more one's children if one has 
 cherished them and loved them before they had 
 their birth. And forethought for a season twelve 
 months hence is no more difficult than forethought 
 for the near summer, when once the gardener has 
 lived in the routine of it. It would be as impossible 
 for him, or for her, to forget to strike winter zonal 
 pelargoniums in March as to ignore their flowers if 
 they are in bloom at that season. The very name 
 of the month suggests the culture of some plants, 
 just as it suggests the flowering of others ; and this 
 habit, once established and applied to each season 
 in succession, becomes a habit of devotion as well 
 as of necessity. April, for instance, suggests the 
 pruning of tea roses, the planting of gladioli, the 
 flowering of fritillaries, and a hundred other things 
 which never occur to the remembrance in July or 
 August or any other inapposite month. The 
 experienced gardener has no need of a calendar 
 to remind him of each season's work, for each is its 
 own remembrancer and sufficient unto itself for the 
 purpose. But it is the most experienced who will 
 have such fear of forgetting that he will renew his 
 memory and give it artificial support by the aid of 
 the garden diary. 
 
APRIL 
 
 39 
 
 I think Jim is the most reclusive man that I have 
 ever known ; he is also entirely different from any- 
 body else, which is so very comforting in a person 
 
 LYDIA DIG 
 
 with whom one has to live. For one thing, he 
 never says anything. I do not mean that if you 
 ask him a question he will not reply " yes " or " no," 
 or that he will refuse to do a fair amount of conver- 
 sational duty when the necessity is forced upon him. 
 
40 APRIL 
 
 But he never thrusts conversation upon you, nor 
 gets opinionative, nor lays down the law, nor in any 
 way expresses himself when he can possibly 
 refrain from so doing. This characteristic is so 
 utterly different from any that the average man can 
 boast that it amounts to the charm of eccentricity 
 of the best kind. 
 
 Another remarkable thing about Jim is that he 
 never tries to coerce anybody. If a servant or 
 other person takes it into his head to behave in an 
 extraordinary manner, Jim never for a moment 
 dreams of checking him ; "I daresay he's all right, 
 really," he says. And it is the same thing even 
 with the animals. He has to keep his hands in his 
 pockets at meal times, except when he is making 
 use of them, because his favourite cat claws them 
 in order to attract his attention and to induce him 
 to give her portions of his food. I have certainly 
 heard him make a sudden and somewhat objurga- 
 tory remark when he has not taken this precaution, 
 and Lydia Die has succeeded in her wicked inten- 
 tion. His cat's name is Lydia, though the reason 
 why I have never been able to discover, and 
 naturally in the course of time she has become 
 known as Lydia Die. Any other person would hit 
 Lydia Die and break her of her bad habit in a 
 couple of days ; but Jim pretends that he does not 
 really object to it, although he is very careful to 
 resort when necessary to the safe haven of those 
 trouser pockets. 
 
 I wonder if absent-minded people know how 
 absent-minded they are. One morning, when Jim 
 made no beginning to eat his breakfast, I saw him 
 
APRIL 41 
 
 lifting up various articles from the table and put- 
 ting them back again with an air of dissatisfaction. 
 He examined a salt-cellar on every side and under- 
 neath ; his teaspoon came in for a considerable 
 share of attention, and so did the knives and forks 
 in front of him. I passed him the mustard, but 
 after looking at it carefully he put it down again. 
 Then I said, " Will you have some cold chicken ? " 
 and he replied dreamily, " No, thank you." 
 
 "Jim," I said, "if you say the word aloud we 
 shall very likely be able to find what you are 
 looking for. What is it?" 
 
 "Oh, never mind; only an appetite," he mur- 
 mured, as though his thoughts were millions of 
 miles away in space. He has always stoutly 
 denied the truth of this story, which makes me 
 wonder if absent-minded persons know how absent- 
 minded they are. 
 
 Some people might think it uncomfortable to live 
 with a philosopher whose real self is in the remotest 
 mists of metaphysic when you want to talk about 
 snapdragons or carnation layers ; but the oddest 
 thing of all is that just when you imagine he is 
 living among the ancient Greeks he wakes up to 
 you suddenly, and knows everything that has been 
 going on. His dreamy blue eyes see to the very 
 bottom of you, and I would rather trust his judg- 
 ment of character than that of most persons. We 
 all went once to be introduced to a new member of 
 the family of whom some of us thought we had 
 reason to be rather proud. When Jim and I came 
 away I said to him 
 
 " What do you think of Seraphina ? " 
 
42 APRIL 
 
 " Delightful ! " replied Jim. 
 
 " What do you think of Seraphina, Jim ? " 
 
 " Very nice, I'm sure." 
 
 " Jim, what do you think of Seraphina ?" 
 
 "Well, as a woman I should certainly consider 
 her a failure," he answered. 
 
 Some years have passed, and there are others of 
 us besides Jim who consider that Seraphina as a 
 woman is a failure. 
 
 Sometimes I think that it is not study alone 
 which has given Jim his far-away look and quiet 
 eyes, and ways too sedate for three-and-thirty years. 
 Nor is it poverty, though he had known wealth and 
 ease before there came the necessity for work. But 
 this is a thing he will not talk about, and I shall 
 never discover whether any soreness still troubles 
 him about that old time. 
 
 It seemed a good time to us while it lasted. We 
 had hardly known our parents ; and a benevolent 
 grandfather brought us all up, and many happy 
 years we spent together in the grey old manor- 
 house on the other side of the village. Jim was 
 formally regarded as the heir to the property, and 
 life promised him its best gifts of peace and plenty, 
 when the old man died, and we found that he had 
 left nearly everything to an alien a distant cousin 
 whom we had hardly heard of and never seen. 
 For me and for the others it mattered little ; our 
 married lives were full and happy enough, but for 
 the boy Jim ah, that is a different story. He 
 began to work, for he was too proud to accept what 
 we would gladly have given, and for five long years 
 he kept want just a little in front of him, yet 
 
APRIL 43 
 
 staring him in the face, until at last he became well 
 known in that small circle which is able and keen to 
 recognise the best gifts. And then he began to 
 crave for the old place, and to feel that his work 
 could be as well done in a country home as else- 
 where ; so, since by that time the ties which had 
 bound me had snapped asunder, we came back 
 again, comparatively poor, to the village where we 
 had spent our early years of wealth. It was the 
 yearning for the soil and its native homely folk that 
 brought Jim back. " I should not like to die away 
 from them all," he said when he first told me what 
 he was about to do ; and I, who knew how deeply 
 rooted had been his affection for these humble 
 friends of his boyhood, could not wonder that he 
 should wish to come home to them. 
 
 That is my brother's story, so far as it goes ; but 
 the saddest part is known only to himself, for he is 
 not one who has ever prated of his troubles. He 
 is happy enough now, I think, though I could desire 
 fuller joys for him, and little children to drag him 
 from his books and make him seem a boy again. 
 But I do not think this will ever be, though some- 
 times I wonder I cannot help wondering ; yet the 
 very idea is impossible, and I have never spoken of 
 it to mortal being. 
 
 April 25. It has often struck me as odd that 
 no one has ever written about the garden boy. In 
 these days, when we have life-histories of every 
 genus from men to spiders, nobody has ever given 
 us the life-history of the garden boy, and yet no 
 type is more interesting if only you can get at him, 
 which is the difficulty. He is of so little importance 
 
44 APRIL 
 
 in many establishments that I believe there are 
 countless employers who do not even know that 
 they have a garden boy. One in whom I was 
 interested found a situation with some people not 
 many miles distant, and six months later, when 
 I was making a visit of ceremony, I inquired for 
 the boy, and hoped that he was a good boy and 
 did his work well. My hostess looked puzzled, and 
 said she did not think they had a garden boy ; but 
 I persisted with her, and she asked me if by any 
 chance I could remember his name. By some 
 fortunate chance I could ; his name was Dick Giles, 
 and she turned to her daughter and asked if there 
 was a boy, a garden boy, on the place named Dick 
 Giles. The daughter was inclined to think there 
 was not, but the master of the house, when appealed 
 to, said he fancied he recollected the word " boy " 
 on the wage list. But not even from him was I 
 able to discover whether the boy was a good boy, 
 or a clever boy, or an industrious boy, or even if he 
 was the very boy I was inquiring for, though I 
 knew that of this last there could be no doubt, for 
 Dick Giles was better acquainted with his employers 
 than they with him. 
 
 If we could hear the garden boy's opinion of 
 ourselves we should be astonished at its truth and 
 directness. No one is a better judge of his master, 
 qua man, or of his mistress, qiid woman, than he. 
 He is a profound thinker, and this of necessity, for 
 he is able but infrequently to express himself in 
 words, lest a carrot or other convenient missile 
 should be hurled by Sterculus at his head, to 
 remind him that garden boys should hold their 
 
APRIL 
 
 45 
 
 tongues. But establish friendly relations with your 
 garden boy when he is off duty in the evening, and 
 he will surprise you by his freedom of speech and 
 his astute comments on life. He will tell you which 
 of our regiments are engaged in the inevitable 
 
 MAY I. C. U. HOME, MY DEAR ? ' 
 
 African or Indian guerilla campaign, and whether 
 the generals are capable of carrying the business 
 through or no. He will discuss with you the 
 subjects of building, agriculture, local government, 
 and the recent eclipse with the fluency and acumen 
 of a village cobbler, which is saying all that may be 
 
46 APRIL 
 
 said. He will bring out and exhibit with pride the 
 little badges which Sterculus has never set eyes 
 upon the miniature penny portrait of the latest 
 military hero, and the white bone disc bearing the 
 inscription, " May I. C. U. home, my dear?" which 
 he attaches to his buttonhole on Sundays and 
 holidays, to the envy of less fortunate children. 
 He will let you see that he regards you as an ally 
 defensive against Sterculus, who in the matter of 
 an occasional "day off" has sometimes to be en- 
 countered and defeated, he maintaining that garden 
 boys " didn't ought to want no holidays." In short 
 he will prove to you that the garden boy is as well 
 worthy of study as the spider or the ant, or even 
 the monkey, which he is sometimes supposed to 
 resemble, and that you have neglected a means of 
 investigating an interesting side of human nature 
 until you have made his intimate acquaintance. 
 
 Garden boys are full of ambition. I never knew 
 one who was not determined to get to the top of 
 some tree or another not a garden tree as a rule. 
 Our present boy, when he is eighteen nearly four 
 years hence will go into the Army and rapidly 
 become a general of artillery. The last was deter- 
 mined to be a successful pirate, but has now settled 
 down to assist his father in hawking bloaters. 
 " You can get about and see the world nicely that 
 way," he says. The one immediately preceding 
 him was almost more than a boy when he left us, 
 and it was only under a species of compulsion, 
 when I had pointed out the inadequacy of five 
 shillings a week for a young man of eighteen and 
 insisted that I should find him a more lucrative 
 
APRIL 47 
 
 place, that he consented * to depart, provided that 
 he might give up gardening for stable work. " If I 
 leaves here I shan't stop till I'm head coachman to 
 a duke," he said. That was four years ago, and as 
 he is now second coachman to an earl, he appears 
 to be in a fair way to realise his ambition. 
 
 So keen is our present boy about the Army that 
 last year he actually ran away to enlist. One 
 morning he failed to appear at his work, and 
 presently an agitated mother turned up, saying that 
 the boy had left home, and no one could guess 
 what had become of him. But I could guess ; and 
 the following telegram was soon flying over the 
 wires to the recruiting officers in the nearest country 
 towns : 
 
 "Boy run away, supposed to enlist. Under age 
 and in my employment. Name, Thomas Evans. 
 Please return." 
 
 The next morning when I went out into the 
 garden Thomas Evans was weeding the onion bed. 
 I said to him with severity 
 
 " I should like to know, Thomas, what is your 
 opinion about your conduct yesterday." 
 
 " My opinion is that it was very bad conduct, 
 ma'am," replied Thomas in a voice tremulous with 
 tears he was too proud to shed. 
 
 And then and there we made a compact, which 
 we ratify at intervals, and which both Thomas and 
 I regard as quite satisfactory. But it cannot be 
 carried into effect until over three years from this 
 present time, and in the meanwhile the garden is 
 to receive the best of our care and loving attention. 
 
 Thomas has a keen eye for natural objects of 
 
48 APRIL 
 
 interest. Even the sight of a pheasant flying 
 heavily over the garden will make him yearn to 
 share the pleasure of watching it with another 
 appreciative gazer ; but this tendency is sternly 
 repressed by Sterculus. This morning, when Ster- 
 culus was engaged in clipping the edges of a flower- 
 bed, Thomas following him to pick up the bits of 
 grass, I was surprised to hear, as I thought, the 
 harsh cry of the green woodpecker from the very 
 bed on which they were engaged. When I looked 
 up there was Thomas carefully posed behind 
 Sterculus's back, a grimy finger upheld to warn 
 me that something of interest was in the very act 
 of happening, and an eye kept the while on his 
 tyrant, who was quite incapable even of realising 
 that a green woodpecker's note had been sounded 
 to attract my attention. I listened, and from the 
 grove on the far hillside came the call, so long 
 expected and this year so long delayed " Cuckoo! 
 cuckoo ! " 
 
 I wonder if the notes of the cuckoo vary in 
 different countries. In Beethoven's Scene am 
 Bach his song is given as D natural and B flat. 
 Our cuckoos certainly have a higher register. I 
 have never tested their notes with a pitch pipe very 
 early in the season, but in the last week of last 
 June I remember to have found all the cuckoos 
 singing F natural to D flat. If the song is D 
 natural to B flat when he first comes over and 
 then changes to F natural and D flat, this would 
 account for the assertion in the old rhyme - 
 
 "In leafy June 
 He'll change his tune." 
 
APRIL 49 
 
 But this saying probably refers to the rougher 
 and hoarser voice which he produces for a few 
 weeks before flying, and to the " Cuck-cuckoo " 
 variation in the song-. 
 
 o 
 
 I suppose that one of the reasons why the 
 cuckoo rouses so much interest in us is that he 
 seems, as Sterculus says, to have "all the evil 
 passions of a Christian." There is no doubt, at 
 any rate, that some very human faults beset him, 
 for he is selfish, cruel, and unprincipled, and it is in 
 reality through these unworthy traits that he im- 
 presses the imagination, while professing to do so 
 in the character of harbinger of spring. I have 
 just been reading Dr. Alexander Japp's book, Our 
 Common Cuckoo, and I confess that I think con- 
 siderably less of the cuckoo's moral nature than 
 I did before I read it, while giving him credit still 
 for such powers of self-seeking as adapt him for 
 getting on in the world. 
 
 There seems to be no doubt that the female 
 cuckoo lays her eggs on the ground, and carries 
 them at once in her beak to a convenient nest ; 
 they are found very often in nests so small and 
 so awkwardly placed that the intruding mother 
 could not by any possibility sit on them. There 
 are one hundred and twenty different kinds of nests 
 in which the cuckoo is recorded to have left her 
 eggs, but the most common is that of the hedge- 
 sparrow, who will brood with patience eggs so 
 unlike her own that it has even been suggested 
 that she is colour-blind. 
 
 The eggs of cuckoos show a remarkable range 
 of variation. Mr. Seebohm, in his supplement to 
 E 
 
So APRIL 
 
 British Birds, has given carefully coloured illustra- 
 tions of as many as fifteen varieties, ranging from 
 blue to brown and from blotched to spotted speci- 
 mens. Controversy seems to rage round this fact, 
 one naturalist asserting that the coloration is an 
 hereditary faculty ; that each female cuckoo lays 
 a particular type of egg ; and that the cuckoo 
 which lays blue eggs takes care to deposit them 
 in the nest of some blue-egg-laying species, and 
 so on. Another authority maintains that the blue 
 eggs of the cuckoo are more frequently found in 
 nests of birds with brownish eggs than in those 
 with eggs of blue, so that the specialised colour- 
 ing is misleading and purposeless. Another, again, 
 seems to think that the variation is purely accidental, 
 and that, if it were not, the cuckoo mother would 
 be taking upon herself a great deal of unnecessary 
 trouble, since the foster parents of many species 
 are so easily deceived, and make no objection 
 whatever to receiving and hatching the alien. This 
 naturalist is also of opinion that other causes must 
 be looked for to account for the variation, such as 
 the age of the bird, or defective organisation. 
 
 Why does the cuckoo rely on foster-parents 
 for the upbringing of her young? There are 
 some charitably minded ornithologists who would 
 fain persuade us that her stomach is so placed as 
 to get in the way when she would sit, and that 
 brooding is in consequence impossible. Yet there 
 are well-authenticated cases of cuckoos hatching 
 out their own young, and the night-jar, which 
 suffers from a similar anatomical disability, never 
 tries to shirk her maternal duties. Others imagine 
 
APRIL 51 
 
 that she has the instinct of the preservation of 
 the species so strongly developed that her action 
 practically amounts to self-abnegation that the 
 particular food upon which she most depends be- 
 comes so scarce that she would not find it possible 
 to provide for herself and her family too, so that 
 she resigns all unwillingly the sweet privileges of 
 maternity to the foster-parents. Her young are 
 so voracious that it is a hard matter for a pair of 
 sparrows or titlarks to satisfy a single infant bird. 
 
 THE NIGHT-JAR 
 
 But here again too much, I think, is conceded 
 to the supposed moral purpose and rectitude of 
 the female cuckoo. She is an insectivorous bird, 
 and she prefers for her young the nest of other 
 insectivorous birds. But when a home is hard to 
 find, or when she is too lazy to devote much time 
 to the search, she will deposit them in the nests of 
 seed- or fruit-eating birds ; and this diet supplied by 
 them to their foster-child causes it to flourish equally 
 well as when fed upon the natural caterpillar or insect 
 
52 APRIL 
 
 diet. If the cuckoo mother would make up her 
 mind to eat commonplace food, and would not 
 be such an epicure as to insist on nothing but 
 choice live morsels, she could very well provide 
 both for herself and her young, so that what 
 naturalists try to make us believe to be self- 
 sacrifice in her is obviously sheer laziness and un- 
 exampled greed. 
 
 One might be inclined to look for some saving 
 grace in the young cuckoo of tender age ; but 
 Dr. Japp tells us that the fact is indisputable that 
 he is as unscrupulous as his mother, for he murders 
 his foster-brethren as soon as he has sense to 
 perceive that they deprive him of food which would 
 in their absence be all his. By the time he is three 
 days old he has tilted the other young nestlings 
 over the edge of the nest, together with any eggs 
 which may remain there, using his back as a kind 
 of shovel and his wings as hands. Verily it may 
 be said of him that by a process of development 
 he has actually become shapen in wickedness, for 
 his back has taken a hollow form which enables 
 him to accomplish this heartless operation with 
 perfect ease. 
 
 But to return to the old cuckoos. If they are 
 idle and greedy at laying time, they are simply 
 barbarous when July comes and they make ready 
 to migrate. The elder birds quit this country 
 without the slightest regard for their offspring, 
 who are not yet ready to fly. It seems as if this 
 further characteristic was intended to put a final 
 touch to the illustration of their general immorality, 
 for I believe they are the only birds which leave 
 
APRIL 
 
 53 
 
 in the autumn without seeing their children safely 
 started on the long journey to Africa. There are 
 
 YOUNG CUCKOO EJECTING HIS FOSTER-BRETHREN 
 
 persons who go so far as to assert that the older 
 cuckoos are obliged to lay their eggs in alien nests 
 and to leave to strangers the sustenance of their 
 
54 APRIL 
 
 young, because the time of their migration is so 
 early that they could not perform these duties 
 effectively, and therefore, purely from conscientious 
 motives, they think it best not to attempt to per- 
 form them at all. These persons even compare 
 the cuckoo favourably with the swift, whose migra- 
 tory instinct in autumn is so strong that it sometimes 
 leaves late broods to starve because it has a craving 
 to be on the wing. " The mother cuckoo, " they seem 
 to say, " is a pattern of birds ; rather than run 
 any risk for her offspring she resigns the parental 
 joys to which she is entitled. Could self-renuncia- 
 tion go farther ? " 
 
 How is it that those birds in whose nests the 
 cuckoo leaves her young do not detect the fraud 
 and eject the egg or make another nest ? There 
 are many ornithologists who think that birds are so 
 deficient in the senses of touch and smell that they 
 cannot even perceive when they have been imposed 
 upon. It has also been said, contrariwise, that the 
 female cuckoo deposits in the nest that she has 
 selected for her offspring a few of her own feathers 
 before she leaves her egg, so that the foster-mother 
 may become accustomed to the cuckoo smell, and 
 will not detect any peculiarity in the egg when 
 it is placed there. But there have been cred- 
 ible cases of such offence being taken at the 
 intrusion that the victimised bird has actually built 
 a new floor over the cuckoo's egg and left it to 
 itself in the basement, while she has triumphantly 
 brooded a new family on the first storey. This 
 would surely show that she has possession of one 
 of the senses which would enable her to detect the 
 
APRIL 55 
 
 fraud. Dr. Japp, for his part, declares that the 
 senses of touch and smell in birds are very keen ; 
 the coot, he tells us, will not sit upon ducks' eggs. 
 And he narrates a story of an ornithologist who 
 made experiments with a woodpecker's nest. He 
 cut a circular piece out of the tree just below the 
 nest and, extracting the woodpecker's egg, he 
 substituted for it a thrush's egg. Then he filled 
 up the hole with the bung, colouring it over exactly 
 like the bark of the tree. The woodpecker stuck 
 to her nest, and when she had laid four more eggs 
 he took out the bung, and found that the thrush's 
 egg had been rolled out of the nest into a recess, 
 although the place was quite dark, and detection 
 through the sense of sight must have been im- 
 possible. 
 
 If Nature has armed the coot and the wood- 
 pecker with a sense so keen as to prevent their 
 incubating alien eggs, why has she not provided 
 other smaller birds with this instinct ? For them 
 even more than for the larger birds it would seem 
 an important gift, their nests being more liable to 
 intrusion ; so that the coot and the woodpecker 
 and a few others are given an instinct that is 
 practically never called into exercise, while on 
 birds which need this instinct more Nature has 
 apparently failed to bestow it. 
 
 But Dr. Japp does not believe that Nature has 
 treated these little birds badly. He thinks that 
 their senses are no less keen than those of the 
 others, and that for a few instances recorded of 
 a bird building over a parasitical egg there are pro- 
 bably countless others which escape notice. If, as 
 
56 APRIL 
 
 some naturalists hold, the cuckoo lays five eggs or 
 thereabouts, the balance of bird life in hitherto 
 understood conditions would be so upset that the 
 cuckoos would far outnumber the smaller birds and 
 gradually, through ousting them, would entail their 
 eventual disappearance. Yet the number of young 
 cuckoos seen in a single season is not in excess of 
 the old ones, and the obvious conclusion is that the 
 smaller birds are not so stupid as they have been 
 thought ; that they know and dislike the intrusion 
 of the cuckoo's egg ; and that in innumerable in- 
 stances resort has been had to the new storey in 
 the house, and the parasitical egg has been care- 
 fully buried when it has not been turned out of the 
 nest or destroyed. 
 
 But instinct seems to fail the small birds just 
 where it might most reasonably be looked for. 
 When the young cuckoo is hatched the foster- 
 mother will starve herself to death rather than fail 
 to supply its ravenous demands. And when she is 
 dead the vociferant cries of the infant will attract 
 neighbouring birds, so that they come and continue 
 the supply, strangers though they are to the nest- 
 ling. A cuckoo in confinement has been known to 
 be fed by a wren, who brought food to the cage ; 
 and another, caged with some American blue 
 robins, had only to open its mouth and one of 
 the robins would drop all its tit-bits into the larger 
 bird's capacious maw. So that it seems as though 
 the instinct of certain species is proved to be of 
 absolute use to another species which thrives to its 
 detriment a condition which Darwin asserted to 
 be unknown. It is strange that one bird should be 
 
APRIL 57 
 
 protected by another at its own expense, and that, 
 as Goethe observed, from six to a dozen singing- 
 birds may be sacrificed for a single cuckoo. 
 
 The fact is that the young monster, the intruded 
 cuckoo, seems to exercise a fascination over the 
 smaller birds, who lose all sense of protective duty 
 to their young, and even to themselves, while they 
 are apparently possessed of admiration and pride in 
 the gluttonous interloper so much larger and more 
 insistent than any child they have hitherto reared. 
 
 It is an interesting question whether the young 
 cuckoo learns its tribal song; from instinct or 
 
 o 
 
 whether its first chirp is that of its foster-parents. 
 Evidence is sparse on the point, but it seems to 
 lean to the side of the first contention, although an 
 acute observer, Lord Lilford, brought evidence to 
 bear which tends to support the contrary theory. 
 He owned a young cuckoo from the time that it 
 was taken from the nest until it was two years old, 
 and its only song was a chirp, although it was once 
 heard to make an attempt, which was a sad failure, 
 at the normal cuckoo call. But, on the other hand, 
 a certain Mr. Cochrane, a bird dealer of Edinburgh, 
 was the possessor of a cuckoo which persistently 
 sang its song through two summers. It had been 
 taken from a meadow-pipit's nest in Wigtonshire, 
 and was brought up by hand. Very soon it was 
 tamed and became a family pet, being allowed con- 
 siderable liberty in Mr. Cochrane's house. It ate 
 food from the hand with perfect confidence, and 
 must have been a voracious feeder, for it is recorded 
 that at one sitting it had been known to consume 
 seventy-three meal-worms. It would also enjoy 
 
58 APRIL 
 
 sultana raisins, meat, lettuce and other vegetables, 
 young frogs, and hard-boiled eggs. 
 
 Its first moulting was in February, 1897, anc ^ one 
 evening in the following April at about nine o'clock, 
 when sitting on the fender and enjoying the heat of 
 the fire, it began its cuckoo song. There had been 
 no opportunity of learning from other cuckoos, for 
 this one had been reared among parrots, canaries, 
 
 THE CUCKOO 
 
 and bullfinches. In July it ceased singing, and the 
 migratory instinct was evidently strong, for it 
 became exceedingly restless. After a time, how- 
 ever, it quieted down, moulted once more in 
 February, and again in April began to sing, though 
 this time less clearly than in the previous year. It 
 was evidently in failing health, but up to the last its 
 eye continued bright and its appetite unimpaired. 
 It died in the autumn of 1898. 
 
APRIL 59 
 
 Another bird kept in confinement for over a year 
 frequently attempted to make its onomatopoeic call, 
 but never got fairly beyond an indistinct first 
 syllable. So that the little evidence obtainable 
 on the subject is insufficient to settle the question 
 whether the cuckoo's song is instinctive or imitative. 
 More observation is needed to decide the point, and 
 any evidence concerning it should be recorded, so 
 that in time the matter may be set at rest. A great 
 deal has been discovered of late years about the 
 habits of the cuckoo, but much remains to discover, 
 and I fancy that the better we know him and per- 
 haps more especially her the less respect we shall 
 have for the family in general. John Milton, who 
 knew most things, had but a small opinion of the 
 cuckoo, and doubtless could have instructed us on 
 the subject ; but he has refrained from any specific 
 accusation, and in one of the most beautiful of 
 his sonnets merely alludes to him as the "rude 
 Bird of Hate," and prays that he may not hear his 
 song before he has listened to that of the nightin- 
 gale, which will bring him the love for which he 
 
 & 
 craves. 
 
 " O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy Spray 
 Warbl'st at eeve, when all the Woods are still, 
 Thou with fresh hope the Lovers heart dost fill, 
 While the jolly hours lead on propitious May, 
 Thy liquid notes that close the eye of Day, 
 First heard before the shallow Cuccoo's bill 
 Portend success in love ; O if Jove's will 
 Have linkt that amorous power to thy soft lay, 
 Now timely sing, ere the rude Bird of Hate 
 Foretell my hopeles doom in som Grove ny : 
 As thou from yeer to yeer hast sung too late 
 For my relief; yet hadst no reason why, 
 Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate, 
 Both them I serve, and of their train am I." 
 
MAY 
 
 May \ "\ 7 E have had a day of unprecedented 
 2 - V V and unforeseen excitements. 
 Yesterday was May Day not only the first 
 day of May according to the calendar, but a 
 real old-fashioned day of May revellings, such as 
 our village must have known three hundred years 
 ago. Jim and the Vicar are responsible for it, and, 
 as a consequence, they both wear a flat and care- 
 laden aspect this morning, which seems ominous of 
 expected catastrophe. For my part the catastrophes 
 which have already occurred seem sufficiently un- 
 pleasant to discourage further revelling. 
 
 It must be about two months since that Jim and 
 I were paying a first visit to Mrs. Vicarius when 
 our new Vicar broached his bright idea to us. He 
 wanted to reinstitute old parish festivals, to have 
 Twelfth Night commemorations, May Day junket- 
 ings, beating the bounds, and half a dozen other 
 parochial gaieties. He came in hot with his 
 scheme and appealed to Jim, with whom he 
 had already established a kind of friendship. It 
 appears that Mr. Curtice chooses to call himself 
 a mediae valist, and he besought Jim as a brother 
 antiquary to support him. Jim is, of course, a 
 
 60 
 
MAY 6 1 
 
 person who cannot be labelled, but it is impossible 
 to deny that his life is spent in a period about two 
 thousand years agone, and the idea of reverting 
 to scenes of a mere three centuries past seemed 
 the easiest thing in the world to him. Mrs. Vicarius 
 protested, and I supported her in a half-hearted 
 way ; but the Vicar is a masterful man, and he 
 gained his point in the end. 
 
 "It will be a great deal of trouble," she said. 
 
 " There are plenty who will share it," cried he. 
 
 " And very expensive." 
 
 "We shall get subscriptions. I don't anticipate 
 any difficulty at all." 
 
 "You wouldn't, dear," said Mrs. Vicarius softly. 
 " But I don't see the object of it." 
 
 "The object is to provide amusement for the 
 villagers. Why do they leave the country and 
 go to live in towns ? Because rural life is so dull 
 and circumscribed. It was only yesterday that 
 I was reading an article on the subject by one of 
 our Berkshire historians. He said that the old 
 revels infused poetic feeling into the villagers, and 
 softened their manners, and prevented their grow- 
 ing hard and discontented. He said that the 
 ancient festivals promoted good relations between 
 rich and poor, between farmer and labourer. If 
 we could help in a humble way to bring back 
 the good old days of contentment in our rural 
 population I should count no trouble too great." 
 
 He looked appealingly at Mrs. Curtice, who gave 
 in at once. She would rather die than thwart her 
 husband in a matter which she knows he has taken 
 to heart. 
 
62 MAY 
 
 So yesterday we had our revels, and very in- 
 teresting they were in ways totally unexpected. 
 
 The Vicar and Jim were so determined to do 
 the thing thoroughly that the latter actually pro- 
 duced an old Survey of the parish, temp. 
 Edward VI., and attempted to trace out the 
 revelling-place of former times. He decided that 
 a field which bore the name of The Butts was 
 probably the scene of ancient hilarity, and that 
 it should also witness our modern revellings. It 
 was near the village green for one thing, which 
 made it a convenient resort ; and, for another, it 
 was surrounded by a high fence which allowed 
 the impresario of the dramatic company to conduct 
 rehearsals in privacy within its sheltered precincts. 
 There was much trouble, which the promoters of 
 the scheme tried to keep to themselves, in carrying 
 through these rehearsals of their open-air play, 
 Robin Hood. Of course I was told nothing about 
 it by either Jim or the Vicar, but one of the 
 actresses informed me in private of the agitation 
 caused in the highest circles by the vagaries of 
 Maid Marian, who persisted throughout in making 
 love to Friar Tuck, instead of responding to the 
 advances of her chartered lover. 
 
 Now Friar Tuck was in his rightful person the 
 young brother of the Vicar, at home under a 
 species of compulsion exercised by the authorities 
 at Oxford, and it was easy to guess that he would 
 not be slow to encourage Maid Marian in her 
 naughtiness. 
 
 However, the day came at last, and brightly 
 enough it broke. Jim had composed a May song, 
 
MAY 63 
 
 made of double chants. He is peculiar in his 
 musical tastes, and after Beethoven's sonatas, which 
 satisfy him better than anything else in music, he 
 prefers a good double chant. I am certain that I 
 heard him one evening at his study piano trying to 
 
 MAID MARIAN AND FRIAR TUCK 
 
 make a part-song out of one of the sonatas, but in 
 all probability he failed to adapt it comfortably to 
 the words, which he had also composed, so he fell 
 back upon a few of his favourite double chants, and 
 fashioned quite a creditable madrigal out of them. 
 The air had been played by village concertinas 
 
6 4 
 
 MAY 
 
 under his tuition, sung at convivial meetings, and 
 tootled by the juvenile drum-and-fife band until we 
 were all familiar with it. 
 
 On the morning of May Day nothing but Jim's 
 May song was heard in the village. So far the 
 
 "WHAT DO HE SAY, BETTY?" 
 
 festival was a complete success. The revels proper 
 were to begin immediately after the village dinner- 
 hour. Punctually at two o'clock we assembled on 
 the green, the parish clerk as bellman, dressed in 
 our late Vicar's clerical garb, and the parish warden, 
 Farmer Stubbs, as prompter, occupying prominent 
 places beside Jim and Mr. Curtice. 
 
THE PARISH CLERK AS BELLMAN 
 
MAY 65 
 
 " Oyez ! Oyez ! Oyez ! " cried the Vicar, with all 
 the power of his particularly sound lungs. 
 
 "What do he say, Betty? What do he say?" 
 asked deaf old Tummus Chalk of his deaf old wife. 
 
 " He be gone silly, sims to I," responded Betty 
 sadly. 
 
 4 'Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! We strictly charge and 
 command that all persons here assembled do keep 
 the peace upon pain of five pounds to be forfeited 
 to the Lady of the Manor, and their bodies to be 
 imprisoned at her pleasure. Also that no manner 
 of person within these precincts do bear any bill, 
 battle-axe, or other weapon. Also that no person 
 do unseemly for any grudge or malice make pertur- 
 bation or trouble upon pain of five pounds and their 
 bodies What is the matter ? Where are they 
 going ? " 
 
 For the crowd was melting away towards The 
 Butts, with the exception of our little party and old 
 Betty and Tummus. 
 
 " An' a very good sarmon too," said old Tummus 
 in his cracked voice, with an attempt at consolation, 
 " so fur as it went, 'wevver. An' I allus stands up 
 fer thy sarmons, passon, whatever folks med say." 
 
 Betty shook him by the coat-sleeve. 
 
 " 'Tent a sarmon," she bawled ; " 'tis summat 
 dotty-like, wi' no sense in't. Don't say nowt or 
 they'll visit it on 'ee. Come on home." 
 | And they hobbled away across the green. 
 
 The rest of us followed the other revellers to 
 The Butts, our enthusiasm dashed for the moment. 
 
 But the main interest of the day was to centre 
 on the doings within the enclosed precincts of The 
 
66 
 
 MAY 
 
 Butts, and when we had passed the turnstile a won- 
 derful sight was ours. One end of the field had 
 been made into a bower, and a part of it screened 
 off by fences of green boughs into retiring rooms 
 for the actors. In the bower the play was to be 
 acted, while we of the outside public sat on the turf 
 
 THE CONSEQUENCES WERE OBVIOUS 
 
 and looked and listened. But surely something was 
 amiss. The Vicar hurried to and fro, darting from 
 one screened enclosure to another, and ribald sounds 
 went up behind the scenes. 
 
 I never knew until afterwards what was wrong, 
 and why the play came to an end or ever it had 
 begun. It appears that although every maid in the 
 village had been willing and eager to act a part, it 
 
MAY 67 
 
 had been inordinately difficult to persuade any of 
 the young men to join in the mumming. Jack 
 Curtice, however, being himself a young man and 
 knowing the ways of young men, had persuaded 
 two rustic youths to accept the parts of Robin Hood 
 and Little John by himself acting that of Friar 
 Tuck, and chiefest and most potent argument by 
 promising that in the Flax Piece adjoining The 
 Butts there should lie concealed in a hollow oak a 
 four-and-a-half-gallon cask of ale for the actors' 
 refreshment. Unluckily Robin Hood and Little 
 John had managed to broach this cask early in the 
 day and without permission, and the consequences 
 were obvious. 
 
 Jack Curtice walked Little John up and down 
 the green-room while one of the bandsmen threw 
 water at intervals into the young swain's face. 
 Another bandsman had given up Robin Hood as 
 hopeless, and rolled him into a corner. 
 
 " We med as well leave en in the earner till he 
 comes to," he said ; "he wun't do no Robin Hoodin' 
 to-day." 
 
 And eventually Little John went to share his 
 corner, and for want of the two principal actors the 
 play was declared off. 
 
 Time would fail me to tell of the day's catas- 
 trophes of the ox, brought to draw the maypole to 
 its place, which tried to gore Tommy Sandford, 
 and did indeed ruin his best jacket, which Jim had 
 to pay for ; of the tale of ducks and hens and a pig 
 or two which fell to the bows and arrows of marks- 
 men who were not satisfied with their legitimate 
 target ; and of half a dozen other items not in the 
 
68 MAY 
 
 programme as arranged by the promoters of the 
 festival. The long day drew to its close at last, 
 and I am certain that no one was more relieved 
 than the Vicar w T hen at last the strident concertina 
 and the uncertain fiddle ceased their sound, and 
 lights went out round the green, and the village 
 slept. To-day we may discourse him of any subject 
 in the wide world except revels 
 
 " Crede experto trust one who has tried." 
 He is an ill subject when roused. 
 
 TOMMY SANDFORD 
 
 May 14. There is nothing in gardening that so 
 much demands the eye and hand of the expert as 
 the weeding of borders. I have a fair number of 
 friends to whom I could quite happily trust my 
 children, if I had any, and perhaps two or three to 
 whom I could commit my dogs ; but I cannot at this 
 moment call to mind more than one whom I could 
 without anxiety turn into my borders to weed them. 
 Carelessness is the unpardonable sin surely, because 
 it is the one that is absolutely curable through an 
 effort of will. But it is not only through careless- 
 ness that ruth is done in the flower garden ; there 
 are many little plants known only to the planter 
 
MAY 69 
 
 which are not sufficiently self-assertive to give the 
 appearance of being entitled to their position, and 
 because they are timid and small they are plucked 
 up and cast away as worthless. 
 
 Early in May the thinning of annuals should be 
 seen to, if it has not been done before, for nothing 
 in flowers has so short a stay as the bed of annuals 
 which suffers from overcrowding. Many things 
 grown under glass can now be hardened, but this 
 
 DUCKS AND .'HENS, AND A PIG OR TWCK 
 
 is a process which should be undertaken with some 
 circumspection. To thrust boxes of petunias out 
 suddenly into the external elements is a certain 
 check to their career, and the hardening should be 
 accomplished by slow degrees, first in a cold frame, 
 closed at night, and afterwards through various 
 stages of semi-protection culminating towards the 
 end of the month in complete exposure. The time 
 for planting them out cannot be determined except 
 by experience. There may come a series of warm, 
 
70 MAY 
 
 moist days at the end of May when the conditions 
 are admirable for the purpose, or it may be nearly 
 the middle of June before such a time appears. 
 But the planting should be regulated by the 
 weather, for nothing is more heartbreaking than 
 to see withering under a hot sun the tender things 
 which should have been introduced to their new 
 quarters in more favouring circumstances. There 
 are very few years in which the weather is not suit- 
 able at some time between May 24th and June 
 1 5th, and the wise gardener gets everything in 
 readiness for the welcome rainy days, be they 
 early or be they late, so that there shall be no 
 hindrance when once Jupiter Pluvius has his turn 
 at the weather-glass. 
 
 The roses will be getting liquid manure now for 
 a few weeks, and this will not only help the buds at 
 present forming, but will give the bushes strength 
 to carry an autumn bloom. The worm in the bud 
 is beginning to show itself, and for some time to 
 come every plant will be hand-picked twice a week 
 to get rid of the pest. I have not yet found any 
 wash which will destroy them, but as regards the 
 aphis, which also is appearing, the case is different. 
 There are plenty of insecticides which will kill it, 
 but I make a point of using Abol, because I feel 
 myself under a debt of gratitude to the man who 
 invented the Abol syringe. Every gardener has 
 been betrayed many a time into expressions not 
 becoming by the behaviour of the common syringe. 
 It sprays everything except the object aimed at; 
 it indulges in a back drip destructive of garments ; 
 it exhausts itself of water in about three seconds, 
 
MAY 71 
 
 and the rose bushes have had practically none of it. 
 But the Abol syringe knows how to behave itself; 
 it never comes back and looks you in the face and 
 drenches you ; it goes direct to the object aimed at ; 
 and above all it requires filling about one quarter as 
 often as any other syringe which I have used. For 
 by some clever contrivance the spray diffuses itself 
 so gradually and so finely that nothing can escape 
 it, and destruction comes upon the intruding insect 
 whose undesired presence has threatened a dearth 
 of roses. 
 
 Christmas roses in pots are being divided and 
 replanted, as they had grown too much choked for 
 good blooming, and arum lilies are being set out in 
 manure trenches for the summer. There are many 
 persons who succeed in getting good results from 
 these callas by keeping them in pots, and only 
 aiding them in the autumn with manure water. 
 But the planting- out system is less troublesome, 
 and in my experience more successful, though the 
 flowers come a little later. They are taken up in 
 September, and kept close for a few days in a frame 
 until they have recovered the change, and then they 
 go on merrily to their flowering season, making a 
 whole winter beautiful. 
 
 How glorious are the yellow tree lupins in the 
 wild garden ! They are not unsuited to large 
 borders, but I like them best in the grass, because 
 they look as if they belong there of right. Yet 
 their lease of life is sadly short, for I have not 
 known one to live longer than five or six years. 
 I should like to know whether in California, whence 
 they have come to us, their life is so brief, or 
 
72 MAY 
 
 whether the conditions they meet with under cul- 
 ture, the richness of the ground they inhabit, and 
 the general care they receive, lead to the too pro- 
 fuse bearing of blossom and of seed pod, which 
 seems to weaken and in time to destroy them. It 
 is certainly not a hard winter which kills them, for 
 they may survive three or four such winters to 
 waste away in a mild one. But however disappoint- 
 ing they may be in this respect they are of the 
 things which no keen gardener can dispense with, 
 and as they are fairly easy raised from seed, and as 
 a plant in its second year may range in height from 
 two to four or even more feet, and be covered with 
 masses of its glorious bean-scented flowers, there is 
 no difficulty in keeping up the supply by means of an 
 annual sowing. They like a light soil and a sunny 
 position and a stake to keep them steady when 
 rough winds blow. 
 
 Some of the plants which look most promising in 
 the wild garden are the scarlet avens, or geum, 
 the Nankeen poppy, the common yellow potentilla, 
 and the old-fashioned columbine. Various dian- 
 thuses, such as that called deltoides, and the 
 pheasant-eye pink are doing admirably and have 
 much promise of blossom. Irises raised from seed 
 are coming up well, but they do not thrive in the 
 grass as I should like to see them, judging by their 
 sparse bloom. The oriental poppies are showing 
 great swelling buds. It strikes me ever anew that 
 the ideal gardening is wild gardening, when it can 
 be managed after Nature's patterns, and the little 
 bit of it that I can delight in is a happier thing 
 than any patches of florists' flowers that make 
 
MAY 73 
 
 my borders gay. Perhaps this is because in wild 
 gardening the gardener has necessarily to be simple. 
 He who would plant carefully hybridised things in 
 the grass and expect to see them thrive would be 
 a foolish person ; so type flowers are chosen which 
 cannot revert to any lower stage of existence be- 
 cause they are still as Nature made them, and the 
 result is as though she herself had planted them, 
 exotics though they may be. 
 
 One of our most noxious weeds in the eyes of 
 Sterculus is very useful for grouping with cut 
 
 WHITE WEED IN A GROVE 
 
 flowers. This is the common white weed, or sheep's 
 parsley. Its foliage mingles well with garden 
 blossoms, and its great heads of tiny flowers are 
 very effective later in vases in combination with 
 such large blooms as those of the oriental poppy, 
 the paeony, and pyrethrum. Another flower ex- 
 cellent for the purpose is the bulbous saxifrage, 
 which is plentiful hereabouts, and is nearly as 
 pretty as its diminutive relative the London pride. 
 Other plants which grow wild in the orchard are 
 the water avens, the adder's-tongue fern, the twae- 
 
74 MAY 
 
 blade, various common orchids, cuckoo flowers, and 
 ox-eyed daisies. Nature set them all in this little 
 corner. 
 
 The most brilliant flowers in the garden are still 
 bulbs the flaunting parrot tulips ; and mingled 
 with them are multitudes of poet's narcissus, which 
 are quite as beautiful, though .not so gay. Some 
 of these last are also growing thinly in the grass 
 with cowslips between, and here and there a white' 
 wood hyacinth ; the harmony of tender tints is very 
 pleasant among the cool green. But the place that 
 best suits the cowslips is the moist ground of the 
 lowest bed in the rose garden, where, plentifully 
 nourished and kept cool and slightly shaded by 
 standard trees, they grow very large and brighter 
 in tint than elsewhere, the green calyx being 
 especially vivid. 
 
 May 20. At the end of the month, when the 
 wallflowers are cleared away from the sheltered 
 beds beneath the windows of the house, portulaca 
 is sown all along the edge in a wide border, and 
 such things as will thrive in so dry a place are 
 planted behind it. It is an undesirable arrange- 
 ment, ugly and displeasing, because it is always 
 artificial in appearance. The flowers complain in 
 unmistakable flower language that they have been 
 bedded out for the summer in a place where no 
 others will thrive, instead of being provided with 
 quarters where they may live in peace and die 
 when old age comes to them. There is no getting 
 away from the fact that they have not any abiding 
 place, so there is little pleasure to be gained from 
 them, but only the conventional covering of a border 
 which would otherwise be bare. 
 
MAY 75 
 
 The lily disease has attacked most of the 
 Madonna lilies again this year. I see that certain 
 authorities who have studied the disease, which 
 they call Botrytis cinerea, say that it is caused 
 by a fungus closely related to that of the potato 
 disease. The large spores produce other spores 
 with hair-like tails, which can sail about in water. 
 No remedy is known for the plague, and the only 
 thing to be done when a plant is affected is to 
 cut the stem down and burn it, to prevent con- 
 tamination to others. I believe that if the bulbs 
 are taken up when they are ripe and kept in a 
 bag with flour of sulphur for a little time before 
 replanting, they will be likely to resist the disease 
 the following year. It has been stated that this 
 disease attacks only those lilies which have been 
 imported ; certainly it is the case that a few of mine 
 which came some years since from a cottage garden 
 have never suffered from it, while others bought 
 from various salesmen have been struck down year 
 after year, and never seem safe. 
 
 One of the last duties of the month is the 
 arranging of hanging baskets for the sheltered 
 entrance to the house which is always dignified 
 by the name of verandah. Departure from con- 
 ventional arrangements for these is not desirable ; 
 I have tried many and have failed in every one. 
 And, after all, there is nothing more suitable for 
 these baskets than the common pelargonium with 
 hanging sprays of blue lobelia, or tendrils of ivy 
 pelargoniums. These things are in their right 
 position for the summer season when they are used 
 to fill tubs and baskets, where they never look out 
 
76 MAY 
 
 of place, because they are well suited to their 
 abode. They last even throughout the autumn, and 
 are always gay, provided that they are regularly 
 watered, for the soil is necessarily limited, and daily 
 attention is needed. 
 
 May 28. This is the first day of summer. One 
 might almost say that it is the first day of spring, 
 for that warm week in April is so long past that 
 it hardly counts in one's memory of pleasant days. 
 The sparrows, those most unprincipled of jerry- 
 
 TUBS AND HANGING BASKETS 
 
 builders, are making new nests, and in one or 
 two instances are taking forcible possession of the 
 swallows' tenements. Possibly they have suffered 
 from the rains in their early abodes. For the cold, 
 wet spring I am grateful, since in this garden we 
 are apt to suffer from drought. We are over- 
 drained by Nature, which has set us on a southern 
 slope, and by necessity, which has demanded a 
 certain amount of terracing to allow of a croquet 
 ground. 
 
MAY 77 
 
 It is a good year for grass ; the rains have 
 assured that. From the seat under the upper elm 
 one may see how luxuriantly it grows just below. 
 The poet's narcissus can only just look over the 
 feathery tops, and a scarlet oriental poppy blossom 
 has but a trifle more advantage. It is one of last 
 year's seedlings, and is the first in bloom in the 
 garden this year. I am anxious to see if they 
 
 AN INTRUDER 
 
 will hold their own permanently among the grass. 
 I am feeling a little sorry that I planted such a 
 large mass of the old yellow doronicum in the wild 
 garden, for now that the buttercups are in flower 
 it is not very telling ; but it was too encroaching 
 to be left in the borders, and a place elsewhere had 
 to be found for it. D. Harpur Crewe is better for 
 cutting, and in habit is more satisfactory, but it also 
 is in the wild garden on account of its early habit. 
 
;8 MAY 
 
 The summer borders are quite a fortnight later 
 than they should be. There is very little show at 
 present nothing, in fact, beyond the parrot tulips 
 and one or two herbaceous things such as the rosy 
 pyrethrums, geum miniatum^ which seems to be 
 earlier than G. chiloense, and the pretty little 
 
 THE JERRY-BUILDER 
 
 carpet plant which we call Bouncing Bet, though 
 properly speaking it is saponaria ocymoides. Many 
 things are ready to burst into flower, but are coy 
 through persistent night frosts. 
 
 The first sweet peas are in bloom to-day a fort- 
 night before their time by a happy accident. In the 
 early winter we found that a goodly number of seeds 
 
MAY 79 
 
 which had been taken in for drying had sown them- 
 selves and made an inch or two of growth under 
 the greenhouse stage. So we potted them, and 
 kept them in a cold frame, until a period of warm 
 weather in early April made it possible to turn them 
 into the open ground, and they are now rewarding 
 us for our care by giving their sweet blossoms before 
 we have any right to expect them. 
 
 Somebody said the other day that life is made up 
 half of boredom and half of unpleasant surprises. 
 Nevertheless, I am having several pleasant sur- 
 prises in my borders this spring. Part of my 
 business is to keep these borders weeded, but as 
 they require attention in this respect several times 
 in the early spring, I am obliged, though it is 
 against my principles, occasionally to depute this 
 duty to Thomas, with strict injunctions to pluck up 
 nothing; that he could have a doubt about. Evi- 
 
 o 
 
 dently the garden boy is not troubled with doubts, for 
 in ensuing summers I have grieved over my losses, 
 though attributing them to the rigours of the pre- 
 ceding winter. This spring, however, I have done 
 all my weeding myself, and am surprised to come 
 upon friends that I had given up for lost. Here is 
 a romneya coulteri planted three years ago. It did 
 not bloom in its first summer, and its head was 
 doubtless plucked off as a weed for two good 
 springs, for my eyes have not beheld it for that 
 period. There are also two or three statices in 
 places where statices are not used to be ; their early 
 growth might certainly be mistaken for that of the 
 dock, so the garden boy is held partly excused as 
 regards them. The same might be said for the 
 
So MAY 
 
 beautiful dwarf white evening primrose (osnothera 
 taraxacifoiia), whose dandelion-like foliage ensures 
 its being pulled away in mistaken kindness even by 
 passing friends, so that out of my original large 
 stock raised from seed I now possess only a few 
 plants. The thistle-like morina, for this same 
 reason, has never lived through a summer in my 
 garden, though I have planted several specimens 
 at different times. I shall have to put a neat little 
 paling, made of wooden labels, round these plants, 
 with the inscription, "Trespassers will be prose- 
 cuted " ; but even then I should despair of Thomas's 
 amendment. A garden boy who, when you point 
 to a handful of cherished plants withering on the 
 grass, can do naught but laugh at the good joke is 
 obviously beyond reformation. 
 
 I wonder if people in general notice how inferior 
 is the song of some nightingales to that of others. 
 The principal bird who inhabits our grove this 
 spring is a very poor singer. When he attempts 
 the delightful jug-jug he makes a sorry failure of 
 it, and even his common notes are as naught in 
 comparison with those of last year's birds. The 
 cold weather may possibly have something to do 
 with it, but I do not think so, for we have now had 
 four hot days and nights, and still his note is a 
 feeble travesty of the song of other days. In spite 
 of a month of cool, wet weather these four days 
 make the garden cry out again for rain. I wonder 
 if anything is due to the original making of the 
 borders some years since ; and yet how hard we 
 worked to get them right ! We dug out their 
 whole length to a depth of over two feet ; the 
 
MAY 8 1 
 
 substratum of gravel which we came upon at one 
 point was removed, and good soil substituted for it. 
 The clay substratum (nowhere within eighteen 
 inches of the surface) in another place we tempered 
 with lighter stuff. No pains were spared at the 
 beginning so far as our knowledge served. I cannot 
 help believing that we did the best that could be 
 
 THE NIGHTINGALE 
 
 done, and that the contour of the ground is more to 
 be blamed than we. One pays penalties after all 
 for "laying warm," as Sterculus puts it, and having 
 a natural drainage. 
 
 A quantity of Dobbie's white spiral candytuft, 
 sown almost at random a year ago in odd corners 
 of the borders, failed to germinate in last summer's 
 drought, and has now come up and is bursting into 
 beautiful bloom. It is wonderful how much hand- 
 
82 MAY 
 
 somer it is than spring-sown stuff. Clarkia and 
 godetia under similar conditions are also doing well. 
 Viola cormita in two or three shades a flower 
 which, as a carpet plant properly placed under 
 things of upright growth, I regard as one of the 
 prettiest in the garden is looking charming, as it 
 always does at this time. Early in July, when it 
 gets a little shabby, we shall clip it over, and it will 
 bloom again in the autumn. Nearly all the tufts 
 were killed by the heat last summer, but it is a 
 thing impossible to get rid of, and it is rapidly 
 forming new masses from self-sown seed. These 
 young plants should bloom in September or even 
 sooner. 
 
 I have a friend called Petunia who lives not 
 very far away, and comes often to see me. She 
 is young and pretty and altogether charming, 
 
 but Well, I have noticed that a "but" 
 
 generally appears in a woman's description of her 
 best friends, and there is no need to particularise. 
 The " but " in Petunia's case is not entirely irrelevant 
 to her method of mismanaging her love affairs, 
 which she seems to have accomplished of late with 
 complete success. Yet while willing and even 
 anxious to seek sympathy, she deprecates the 
 smallest approach to advice from her confidants, 
 of whom she has more than one or two. More- 
 over, as she never succeeds in expressing her 
 position very clearly, always keeping in reserve 
 some fact which might damage her in the opinion 
 of her listener, it is sometimes a little difficult to 
 follow her story and to share her point of view. It 
 seems as if she has not strength to carry alone the 
 
PETUNIA 
 
MAY 85 
 
 burden which she is yet too coy or too unwilling to 
 share with another. 
 
 Petunia has bicycled over again to-day, the second 
 time within the week, and it is easy to see that 
 she is brimming with the desire to tell me some- 
 thing. The only way to meet her is with a com- 
 plete absence of inquisitiveness, which is the most 
 trying and embarrassing to her of all the various 
 fronts which one can present. How happy she is 
 if her friend and confidant of the moment will say s 
 " Petunia, darling, tell me what is on your mind " ; 
 or, " Dear Petunia, you are looking a little unhappy 
 to-day ! " But no one who really knew Petunia 
 would be foolish enough to adopt such elementary 
 tactics as these, which lead to much circumlocution 
 on her part, and not a little self-pity. So we talk 
 indifferently about apple blossom, or about the 
 effect of late spring frost on the strawberries, and 
 we discuss the respective demerits of the brown and 
 the black slug. And all the time I know that I 
 shall presently yield to her mood out of sheer good 
 nature, and shall hear myself saying, "Petunia, 
 darling, tell me what is troubling you." 
 
 She ate a very good luncheon, looking the picture 
 of misery throughout the meal. Afterwards she 
 indulged in a larger quantity than usual of pepper- 
 mint creams, only holding her hand when I re- 
 marked that I considered peppermint exhilarating. 
 Then she asked what was the most remarkable 
 instance of patient silent agony that had ever come 
 under my notice. I assured her that nothing of the 
 kind had ever struck me more forcibly than the sight 
 of a lean countryman whom I had seen one even- 
 
86 
 
 MAY 
 
 ing at the close of the fortnightly sheep fair in the 
 neighbouring village of Ilsley. The day was done, 
 
 A LEAN COUNTRYMAN 
 
 the customers were departing, and his sheep were 
 unsold. She said dreamily that she was not think- 
 ing about sheep, and then she quoted Longfellow 
 
SHE SAID IT WAS TIME TO GO 
 
MAY 87 
 
 Petunia's poetical taste is not of the highest order 
 and remembered to sigh at the right moment. She 
 said she thought the " Psalm of Life " the truest 
 picture ever painted of a woman's heart. She said 
 she was convinced that the sublimest thing in the 
 world was suffering and being strong. I cordially 
 agreed with her, and instanced my persistent 
 romneya coulteri. She remarked sadly that a 
 woman's heart was of more value than any romneya 
 coidteri. I replied that something might depend 
 upon the state of the heart. She said she supposed 
 it was time to go, and then she sat down again, and 
 I knew that neither jest nor insult would dislodge 
 her until she had unburdened herself; so I made 
 haste to say once more the words I have so often 
 repeated in these last months, " Petunia, dearest, 
 tell me what is troubling you." 
 
 Of course, I knew very well what was troubling 
 her. I could not be certain of its name, for this is 
 subject to chances and changes, but I can always 
 sketch in as a preliminary the bare facts and out- 
 line of the story. Although there may be bore- 
 dom for me, there will be no surprises in Petunia's 
 narrative. 
 
 It appears that her Mr. Mumby of the moment, 
 whom she has adored for over three weeks, went 
 away yesterday without telling his love. I do not 
 quite grasp whether this is the original Mr. Mumby, 
 or another Mr. Mumby, or yet again a different 
 person with Mumby-like charms, but the name in 
 any case will serve as a generic term, though if 
 I had been Petunia I should have chosen a better 
 while I was about it. I do not like to inquire too 
 
88 MAY 
 
 closely into the situation, for sometimes when she is 
 telling me about one of her Mr. Mumbys I am 
 thinking of polyanthuses, or of rose grubs, or of 
 some other more interesting subject, and it does not 
 do to hark back, for this infuriates Petunia. Not to 
 listen attentively to her tales of woe is a thing 
 almost unpardonable, but to forget the smallest 
 detail of them is an insult. So I listen and 
 sympathise and refrain from coming to close 
 quarters in the matter, and I hear a pathetic tale 
 of love and anguish. It is exactly the same narra- 
 tive that she told me some few months ago with 
 the immaterial difference of a substitution of one 
 principal character in the drama for another. But 
 Petunia does not detect the resemblance. She 
 goes home at last with a huge bunch of china 
 roses, and with a face as long as her arm, which 
 
 o 
 
 is saying much, and I am able to turn again with 
 a sigh of relief to my garden and my books. 
 
 I have just been enjoying that poem of perennial 
 interest and delightful humour, "Caliban upon 
 Setebos," which, every time I read it, gives me 
 fresh pleasure and new suggestions for its complete 
 appreciation. Setebos is the evil genius of gardens. 
 He has all the attributes for the part, and it is 
 surprising that Caliban did not discover this ; but 
 probably he did not only because he could not be 
 trusted to work in Miranda's garden. If he had 
 been permitted to do so he would have discovered 
 another side to the malignity of Setebos to confide 
 to us. Poor Caliban ! He takes half a winter to 
 weave a wattle fence which will stop the she-tor- 
 toises as they crawl up the sand, and let him secure 
 
MAY 89 
 
 their eggs for his feast, v The sea gets up under 
 a kick from Setebos, and 
 
 "... licks the whole labour flat." 
 
 He takes pattern from his tormentor ; he sees 
 twenty crabs pass safely to the sea, and stones the 
 twenty-first. So Setebos ! He sees a bruised one 
 and gives it waywardly a worm ; one whose nippers 
 end in red, and gives it two worms. So he ! The 
 caprice of the little god is repeated in the mere 
 mortal, who visits on those weaker than himself 
 the indignities which he has first suffered. Our 
 Setebos of the garden vexes us fully as much as 
 Caliban's of the island vexed him 
 
 "When all goes right, in this safe summer time, 
 And he wants little, hungers, aches not much, 
 Then, trying what to do with wit and strength, 
 Falls to make something." 
 
 Our Setebos is ingenious. He makes a beautiful 
 plant and sets it in the border. The gardener sees 
 it and knows it for a stranger, and looks for blossom, 
 thinking that he has planted it in the autumn and 
 forgotten to note it in his book. It thrives as no 
 other plant in the garden has thriven ; in a single 
 season it has increased from a tiny leaflet to a large 
 clump. It is above everything a "good doer." 
 Late in summer, after much cherishing, it blossoms, 
 and proves to be a spurge or a yarrow of the 
 meanest sort. So Setebos ! 
 
 He is malignant. He waits until the delphiniums 
 are safely above ground, and then he teases the 
 large black slugs and the small brown slugs, till 
 they leave the herbage of the orchard, which in 
 reality they like better than anything else, and 
 
90 MAY 
 
 make a meal off the growing tufts in the borders. 
 He taunts the sparrows till they nip off the green 
 tips of the sweet peas just coming out of the 
 ground, and leave them exposed to view, for they 
 do not care to eat them. He has been known to 
 incite garden boys to the plucking up of choice 
 plants, which he slily insinuates to be weeds of 
 loathly sort. He incites the village donkey to 
 bray against its better nature ; and, when we have 
 planted out our seedlings on the strength of the 
 welcome music, we see them fading for weeks 
 under the brilliant unwinking sun, which kills them 
 before they can get established. So Setebos ! 
 
 Let us hope with Caliban that some day the 
 Quiet may catch. and destroy Setebos, or that like- 
 lier he 
 
 " Decrepit may doze, doze, as good as die," 
 
 for we shall never have satisfactory gardens until 
 this happy day arrives. 
 
JUNE 
 
 June ^ I ^HERE are a good many small items of 
 I 5- -L work which, while not seeming very 
 important, yet require attention at this time from 
 the far-seeing gardener. If the pansies sown and 
 transplanted last autumn are to continue their 
 flowering season throughout the summer, they must 
 be mulched soon with old manure ; so treated they 
 will carry blossoms until winter. Lilacs have to 
 be pruned, the longest shoots which have bloomed 
 being cut out and carried away to the rubbish heap, 
 whence, in the form of ashes, they will return later 
 to the land. Phloxes and delphiniums must be 
 staked, although at present they do not seem to 
 require it ; cuttings must be taken of pinks, if the 
 wood is firm enough, and struck under hand-lights 
 in good soil ; wallflowers must be pricked out from 
 the seed-beds into larger quarters, where they can 
 stand several inches apart, to ensure their making 
 good plants by the time October comes, and with 
 October their final planting. The strong tap roots 
 should be pinched off, and a good bunch of fibrous 
 roots will take their place and make them more 
 able to endure winter frosts. The green tops of 
 bulbs which have not yet died down may, for the 
 
 91 
 
9 2 JUNE 
 
 most part, be removed, even though they are still 
 a little green ; and the rose-beds in which they are 
 planted should be forked over with a four-inch 
 hand fork, an operation easily undertaken by the 
 garden boy. Air and dew will thus enter freely 
 and penetrate the soil. 
 
 If the sowing of hardy perennials has not 
 hitherto been done, this month is not too late to 
 get fairly good plants from seed, provided that 
 watering is properly attended to. There are few 
 that cannot now be sown in the open, although 
 some kinds, such as the sea hollies, auriculas, 
 and others, need boxes, because their period of 
 germination is long, and they are apt to be for- 
 gotten if they remain unseen in the earth for many 
 months. I have kept a few late things, such as the 
 Chinese dianthus and spring-sown snapdragons, in 
 four-inch pots, to fill gaps in the borders ; and now 
 that the oriental poppies have nearly finished 
 flowering they will be cut down level with the 
 ground, and these pot plants will be put near and 
 around the roots. Pyrethrums may be treated in 
 the same way as the poppies, but it is not advisable 
 to behave so brutally to most early-flowering plants, 
 for some of the weaker-growing perennials would 
 resent their temporary extinction, and would prob- 
 ably make it a permanent one. 
 
 The fancy pelargoniums are getting near their 
 time of rest, and must soon be cut back and 
 prepared for next year's flowering. They are 
 reduced to the hard wood ; the ball is also made 
 smaller, and the plants are set out in a cool frame 
 in clean pots. New plants are raised from some of 
 
JUNE 
 
 93 
 
 the cuttings, but our house room being limited 
 we cannot grow a large number, so most of the 
 stuff goes to the rubbish heap. 
 
 CLIMBING ROSES 
 
 Climbing roses are making the house-front gay 
 just now. They are in full bloom Lamarck, 
 Gloire de Dijon, Cheshunt hybrid, 1' Ideal, Bouquet 
 
94 JUNE 
 
 d'or, and Reine Marie Henrietta. The last, which 
 is among the most useful of all, should be grown 
 on a comparatively cool wall, such as one with an 
 aspect due west. Perpetual sunburn is fatal to its 
 colour in very hot weather, and the ideal place for 
 it is under glass, where, in spring, it comes best and 
 brightest. Cheshunt hybrid also, though perfect in 
 the bud, is always disappointing when fully expanded, 
 Bouquet d'or is a glorified Gloire, with a slightly 
 yellower flower and a perfectly formed bud. There 
 are one or two early Eugen Fiirsts in the rose-beds, 
 for these are the pioneers of the hybrid perpetuals. 
 I am always telling myself how sorry I am that I 
 have but one bed of chinas ; but except for their 
 long-flowering habit I do not care for them, my first 
 necessity in roses being those which will live longest 
 in water, and are therefore well suited for cutting. 
 
 The borders are looking gay, though not yet in 
 full beauty. I am short of various old favourites 
 this year, noticeably Canterbury bells, linum nar- 
 bonnense, which appears to have been destroyed 
 by the wet winter, and gaillardias, which probably 
 disliked it even more than the linum. One thing 
 which I decide every autumn to banish entirely 
 from the borders to the wild garden, and cling to 
 devotedly every summer, is the lovely blue alkanet 
 (anchusa italica). It is quite as beautiful in colour 
 as any delphinium, and far more persistent in 
 bloom. It is now in full glory, and I feel that I 
 would rather die than be without it. In August, 
 when it is lolling over two or three yards of soil 
 belonging to other plants, I feel that not I but it 
 must die, or be banished at any rate to the grass, 
 
THE BORDERS ARE LOOKING GAY 
 
JUNE 95 
 
 where already there is a considerable colony of it, 
 for it does admirably amongst the herbage. 
 
 One thing I must get for my borders before 
 another June, and that is a judicious selection of 
 plants of a good full yellow colour. At this 
 moment there is no brilliant yellow in them except 
 eschscholtzias and Iceland poppies, which are only 
 annuals, and therefore not to be relied on after 
 a hard winter. The Nankeen poppy is very lovely 
 in its salmon-apricot tint, but it does not satisfy the 
 eye-craving for yellow. My first and chief desire 
 is for brilliant gentian blues ; pinks and crimsons 
 are essential, and come without effort, as does also 
 white ; violets and magentas have to be allowed 
 only sparingly and under protest, as it were ; true 
 scarlets and real coral pinks are absolutely neces- 
 sary, and deserve encouragement. But a real good 
 lemon yellow at this time of year is more scarce 
 than a true blue, and is quite as great a treasure, 
 which is saying much. 
 
 For a June edging I know nothing prettier than 
 the pentstemon procerus at the back, and the big 
 white rayless viola, or tufted pansy, as they call it 
 nowadays, widely massed in front. For a large 
 round bed, with coreopsis grandiflora all over the 
 centre, it would be quite suitable ; for, although the 
 pentstemon goes out of bloom by the end of the 
 month, the violas remain and look beautifully 
 harmonious with the coreopsis through the rest of 
 the summer. This coreopsis would be a perfect 
 plant if it were a true perennial. It is very free 
 flowering, most persistent, handsome, and useful for 
 cutting. Sometimes it will throw out side growths 
 
96 JUNE 
 
 which ensure its blooming the following year ; but 
 more often it has only the life of a biennial, and 
 disappears after flowering. However, it is easily 
 raised from seed, and the sowing of such a good 
 thing in the seed-patch should be as much a matter 
 of course as the sowing of the indispensable wall- 
 flower. I find here that it distributes itself and 
 forms colonies all round the parent plants, which is 
 the easiest and pleasantest solution of the problem 
 of its culture. Pentstemon procerus, like many 
 type pentstemons, cannot endure to be suffocated 
 by other plants at any period of its growth. The 
 exquisite P. cyananthus (var. Brandegii) is just 
 coming into full bloom, and has the true blue colour 
 so valuable in gardens. I am trying P. J off ray anus, 
 which is well spoken of, but have not seen it in 
 flower yet. I find that most pentstemons take a 
 fairly long time to establish themselves. 
 
 What a perfect flower is the clematis languinosa, 
 Lady Caroline Nevill ! It is too dwarf for a wall, 
 and I should like to try it pegged down between 
 plants of Mrs. Sinkins pinks. I think that for 
 once I should have a conventional arrangement of 
 some sort, with the pinks used for outlining, and 
 the clematis in large plots for filling in. Then 
 planted thickly among the clematis there should be 
 quantities of tritonias, which would follow Lady 
 Caroline in blooming, the foliage of the pinks 
 when the flowers were over being sufficiently 
 beautiful in itself to hold its own in the later 
 picture. I find tritonia crocosmice flora perfectly 
 hardy, but T. Pottsi dies in a v/inter alternately 
 cold and wet. The former is very satisfactory and 
 
JUNE 97 
 
 increases quickly ; the bulbs also are cheap, which 
 is an additional point in their favour. 
 
 The yellow tree lupin is now in its glory, and 
 a beautiful thing it is. These were grown from 
 seed, and have made good plants in a couple 
 of years. I find that the seed should be sown 
 plentifully, for some of it fails to germinate. Tree 
 lupins appear to flower only on the wood of the 
 previous year, and their golden wreaths resemble 
 laburnum set the wrong way up ; but they are at 
 least three times as enduring when cut as that 
 lovely golden chain. I have seeds of a new white 
 variety this season, which I am trying ; it cannot 
 exceed the yellow in beauty, but there is room 
 enough in gardens for more than one good thing. 
 
 June 24. How hideous is the country on a sun- 
 less day in June. Here, where we are apt to look 
 for glorious distances and wooded vistas, this is 
 particularly noticeable. In place of spring's variety 
 of tints the eye travels for miles over a mass of 
 dull metallic green, devoid both of charm of colour 
 and beauty of form. The trees are in full leaf, and 
 show no bright interstices ; they are as lumpy as 
 cabbages. The fields in their flat colouring carry 
 out the unpleasing scheme, for the young corn is 
 still as green as the water meadows. Next month 
 we shall at least get relief for the eye in the ripen- 
 ing grain, and by August we may hope for some 
 variety in the tree foliage again, though not much. 
 At present the only charm is in the help which the 
 sun gives to the landscape, with its strong contrast 
 of light and shade and its varying cloud shadows. 
 On a grey day this help is withheld, and all is flat 
 monotony of metallic green again. Luckily the one 
 
 H 
 
98 JUNE 
 
 month which is ugly outside the garden is the most 
 beautiful of all within it. The green is tempered 
 with other tints; the trees near by are intimate 
 friends, and we know what lies under their thick, 
 plain faces. We love them because we live with 
 them, and we do not expect them always to wear 
 their prettiest clothing for us. But with other dis- 
 tant trees which are strangers to us, or at best only 
 casual acquaintances, we feel no necessity to endure 
 their ugliness with patience, and we naturally resent 
 it when we can find no delight for the eye in them. 
 The aesthetic craving is unsatisfied, and the soul 
 within the stranger is not intimate enough with our 
 soul to react upon and inspire it. 
 
 But wherever else there may be disappointment, 
 there is always something to charm in the orchard. 
 The flowers, even at this season, which is their best, 
 seem scarce and stingily distributed compared with 
 those in the beds, but is it not this which gives 
 them that look of Nature's planting which can 
 never be amiss ? What surprises me most is the 
 perennial habit which the Canterbury bells seem to 
 acquire in the grass ; they never fail to reappear in 
 each succeeding summer, though they receive no 
 attention in any way nor encouragement, such as 
 they get in the garden proper. Some of the most 
 satisfactory and attractive colonies in the grass are 
 formed of the following : 
 
 Sweet-william, 
 
 Doronicum, 
 
 Italian alkanet, 
 
 Blue flax, 
 
 Single rocket, 
 
 Pheasant-eye pink, 
 
 Single yellow potentilla, 
 
 Perennial lupin, 
 
 Oriental poppy, 
 
 Comfrey, 
 
 Columbine, 
 
 Scarlet avens, 
 
 Foxglove, 
 
 Borage. 
 

JUNE 99 
 
 There is, besides, a beautiful plant whose botani- 
 cal name is crambe cordifolia. It stands from three 
 to four feet in height, and is covered with clouds 
 of white flowers somewhat resembling the bulbous 
 saxifrage in shape and size. It will hold its own 
 in the grass if a suitable station is prepared for it. 
 
 We have had a week of intense and airless 
 heat after a fortnight of windy heat. I believe 
 the mysterious instrument called a hygrometer 
 measures more moisture in the air than it did 
 
 HAYMAKERS 
 
 a few days since, but it is still hardly beyond 
 normal. Yet the sound of trains to the south is 
 very distinct ; a donkey is braying in the village 
 below ; smoke is blowing down from the chimneys 
 on to the lawn ; the swallows are flying lower ; the 
 moon will change to-morrow so surely we are to 
 get rain at last. Things are beginning to show 
 signs of distress for want of it, and peas would 
 really begin to fatten and strawberries to swell more 
 quickly if we could get half an inch or so. But it 
 has been a glorious season for the haymakers. 
 June 28. The welcome rain has come, and we 
 
ioo JUNE 
 
 are rejoicing in it in terribly selfish fashion, for 
 are there not many acres of grass still lying un- 
 carried and almost as many left uncut ? I pointed 
 out to Sterculus this morning that our joy should 
 be chastened by this remembrance, but he was 
 quite unmoved and unsympathising. " We cain't 
 eat hay," he says, as he hugs himself in his own 
 peculiar way while surveying his fat pea-pods and 
 his newly planted lettuces. He is the more pleased 
 because he prophesied this welcome change ; but 
 Sterculus's habit of prophecy leaves room for so 
 much later hedging that we do not often pay great 
 attention to it. " I don't say 'twill rain to-day, and 
 I don't say 'twill rain to-morrow ; what I say is, 
 'twill rain," is his usual formula, and even we lesser 
 mortals feel that we could sometimes get as near 
 prophecy by a happy accident. 
 
 I have adopted some of the suggestions con- 
 tained in Mr. William Robinson's English Flower 
 Garden with very happy results those, I mean, 
 which refer to the growing of successional groups 
 of flowers in the borders. A patch of ground, 
 for instance, which in early summer is gay with 
 blue forget-me-not is later in the year a mass 
 of tritonia. The nodding star of Bethlehem 
 gives place at this time to the white creeping- 
 evening primrose, which blooms for the rest of 
 the summer. Spanish irises come up and flower 
 in a glaucous-coloured carpet of zauschneria cali- 
 fornica, which is later than most things in coming 
 into blossom. Madonna lilies are planted with 
 pyrethrums or with oriental poppies, and succeed 
 them with only a few days' interval between. I 
 
JUNE 
 
 greatly dislike bare earth between niy tfunVps', ahd 
 so far as possible dwarf plants are encouraged to 
 grow amongst the taller ones, to the vast improve- 
 ment of the border's appearance. One makes 
 mistakes no doubt at times, and the carpet is 
 often of a sort that will smother its com- 
 panions as they come up in the spring ; but 
 experience is the only guide worth trusting, and 
 it is better to learn for oneself that saponaria 
 ocymoides will not suffer antirrhinums to emerge 
 safely through its twiggy growth with the power 
 of doing their best than merely to read this in 
 a book and take it for an incontrovertible fact. 
 One learns a great deal more than a mere little 
 detail about gardening from every mistake which 
 one makes in the growing of plants. 
 
 I am an occasional reader of the new fiction known 
 by the name of Garden Literature, and of all the 
 books of this kind which I have seen I like best 
 Elizabeth and her German Garden. One is learn- 
 ing that it is idle to look for instruction in flower 
 culture in these books, and it is no disappoint- 
 ment to discover that Elizabeth's book frankly 
 concerns Elizabeth and nothing else. Her garden, 
 though it appears on the title-page and on many 
 another page of the volume, is obviously incidental, 
 and even the Man of Wrath partakes of this nature 
 as well as the April, May, and June babies. One 
 is fain to realise that although Elizabeth may be 
 rather fond of them, she could very well reconcile 
 herself to life without them. She is profoundly 
 interesting to herself as well as to the reader, 
 and her volume is the Book of Elizabeth with 
 
.102 JUNE 
 
 l a* German : garden and a few other necessary im- 
 pedimenta thrown in. Her garden experiences are 
 not illuminating, and may be dismissed in a few 
 words, for there is little of a horticultural nature 
 to be learnt from Elizabeth. To be sure we hear 
 much of sweet peas, rockets, roses bought by the 
 hundred, hollyhocks, pansies, and other subjects. 
 But never a word does she tell us of their culture, 
 and for aught that we can learn from her we might 
 treat all these things alike, and suffer accordingly. 
 Elizabeth would never check us in our foolish- 
 ness, though she would make many a jest at it, for 
 nothing is sacred from her ribaldry. 
 
 Elizabeth is distinctly a minx. I thought the 
 character was extinct, for it disappeared from our 
 literature quite suddenly about the time that the 
 purpose-novel came into vogue. There was not 
 room enough in fiction for both types of heroine. 
 But the minx was not extinct ; she was merely 
 suffering from boredom, and had gone into retire- 
 ment for a time, to re-emerge brilliantly from the 
 recesses of a German garden. And the absolute 
 certainty that there are April, May, and June 
 minxes being brought up to follow in her chartered 
 footsteps may relieve us from any fear that the type 
 will be lost again. 
 
 Elizabeth is English to the backbone, despite her 
 artful attempts to persuade us otherwise. She is 
 amusing in describing her adopted compatriots, and 
 enjoys many a laugh at their expense. She is 
 certain that Dr. Grill must be a German rose, 
 because the more attention you pay him the ruder 
 will he be to you, or, in other words, the less will he 
 
JUNE 103 
 
 repay your kindness by expansion. But there are 
 very few things and fewer persons for whom Eliza- 
 beth has a word of praise, and the only friend whom 
 she can endure is one who is clever enough to 
 flatter her about her garden. To others she is 
 
 o 
 
 inwardly cold and critical, with a charming affecta- 
 tion of pleasantness which would not deceive a 
 baby. She dislikes Minora most of all, and is only 
 well disposed to her visitor when she notices her 
 thick wrists. The fact is that Minora has a beautiful 
 nose ; and although Elizabeth would rather die 
 than own herself jealous, it is obvious to the 
 meanest capacity that this is what ails her. The 
 admirable Miss Jones also, whose perfect propriety 
 of demeanour is assumed through a rigid sense of 
 duty, rouses all her wrath. But what was there, in 
 the name of justice, to complain of in Miss Jones ? 
 That she had but small respect for her employer 
 should not in itself have formed a legitimate 
 grievance, since not even a nursery governess can 
 control her inward feelings ; and even Elizabeth 
 admits that Miss Jones's outward expression was 
 severely perfect. And to her bosom friend Irais 
 Elizabeth is simply diabolical when she thinks that 
 that friend is trespassing a little too long on her 
 hospitality. She makes no secret of her opinion 
 that the weeks her guests are with her is time lost 
 so far as her pleasure is concerned, and even goes 
 so far as to say that it rejoices her as much to see 
 them go as to see them come. I am certain that it 
 rejoices her far more. 
 
 The truth of the matter is that our good Elizabeth 
 has no wholesome illusions ; glamour is unknown 
 
104 JUNE 
 
 to her ; the bump of reverence is wanting. The 
 Man of Wrath, who should surely be sacred, escapes 
 her scorn no more than the others, and furnishes 
 her with many an opportunity for jibes. I am 
 positive that she has failed to bend him to her 
 imperious will, as she would fain bend all with 
 whom she comes into contact. She has certainly 
 not cured him of holding his glass in his left hand, 
 and she bears him a perennial grudge in con- 
 sequence. 
 
 At the moment when I begin to wonder if there 
 is any person in the world for whom she really 
 cares, it is a relief to find her confessing that she 
 likes her coachman almost as much as her sundial ; 
 but it turns out that that is only because he never 
 attempts to thwart any of her unreasonable wishes. 
 She hates giving presents, lest the recipient shall 
 be spoilt and she shall suffer in consequence. She 
 has an eccentric dislike to furniture, though I am 
 convinced that she would be the first to cry out if 
 she had not enough of it, or if her armchair was not 
 comfortable, or if her presses were not large enough 
 to hold her frocks. But there is no pleasing her. 
 Things animate and inanimate alike annoy her, and 
 the one person who is in her eyes entirely charming 
 is Elizabeth. 
 
 And indeed she is not very far wrong. She is 
 a fascinating being, and Jim, who recommended 
 the book to me, finds it difficult to endure with 
 equanimity the thought that the Man of Wrath has 
 attained by right of conquest the privilege of her 
 constant companionship. She will always interest 
 the Man of Wrath ; she will never though the 
 
JUNE 105 
 
 days may come of grey hair and wrinkles she will 
 even then never bore him. She will keep his 
 affection to her dying hour, however flagrantly she 
 may deserve to lose it ; but one cherishes a secret 
 though perhaps unworthy joy in the assurance that 
 inordinately as he may adore her, he will never let 
 her know it. Is he not a German husband, closely 
 connected in his modes of action with that Dr. Grill 
 who rouses Elizabeth's ire ? When she puts forth 
 her fascinations the Man of Wrath will retire with 
 well-affected indifference to his series of smoky 
 dens in the south-east corner of the house. When 
 she holds forth on the superiority of the sex he will 
 smile blandly down on her, talking her at last into 
 passionate flight. He dominates her by sheer 
 strength as well as by the power of that calm, 
 irritating smile. 
 
 Although Elizabeth has done her best to per- 
 suade us, I, for one, do not feel at all sure that 
 it was by her own desire that she went to live in 
 a German garden. It is much more likely that 
 it was the iron will of the Man of Wrath which 
 condemned her to it after many ineffectual struggles, 
 although she had sense enough when she found 
 herself in exile to pretend that she liked it. How 
 else should the commiseration of the neighbour- 
 ing Patronising Potentate a woman potentate, of 
 course have roused her to such anger, if some 
 secret sting had not lain in the words 
 
 " Ah, these husbands ! They shut up their 
 wives because it suits them, and don't care what 
 their sufferings are." 
 
 It was the painful unacknowledged truth of the 
 
io6 JUNE 
 
 remark which stung the resentful Elizabeth. And 
 this explains the whole book. 
 
 Here is a woman, young and lovely, though 
 somewhat lacking in perfection of nasal organ, 
 condemned by her Bluebeard of a husband to live 
 in a remote Schloss sorely against her will. The 
 unfortunate lady immediately becomes a cynic, and 
 professes contempt of worldly enjoyments. But 
 revenge is sweet, and in her case necessary to 
 her well-being, so she sits down to write a book 
 which will proclaim her wrongs abroad. In this 
 book she wreaks her vengeance on society, on her 
 friends both present and absent, on her insentient 
 furniture, on her servants (except the one whom 
 she likes nearly as much as her sundial), on her 
 governess, and even on her husband. She employs 
 as her vehicle the form of the New Fiction as 
 more likely to attract attention than the old, for 
 if she had put her experiences into an ordinary 
 novel, the circulation might have been limited to 
 a paltry five hundred or so. But Elizabeth knew 
 better than to do this, and the result is exactly 
 as she anticipated, for everybody has a bowing 
 acquaintance with her, and everybody is devoted 
 to her. She has a real live charm such as is 
 seldom found in the mere heroine of fiction, and 
 I will gladly read every word which it may enter 
 her capricious head to write, no matter on what 
 subject she may choose to discourse us. 
 
 A totally different book is Mr. Alfred Austin's 
 Garden that I Love, for while Elizabeth gives us, 
 or pretends to give us, all her inmost thoughts, 
 Mr. Austin bestows upon us as many treasures of 
 
JUNE 107 
 
 actual conversation as he can conveniently gather 
 together. Our Laureate, as we who read our 
 Times know well, is nothing if not articulate. He 
 gives us poems to fit our many imperial moods, 
 and we are secure of the enjoyment at first hand 
 of the inspiring afflatus, because we are assured 
 that we receive them just as they come to him. 
 I suppose, therefore, that the mere man does not 
 venture to correct, to add to, or to take from the 
 heaven-sent beauties bestowed on the poet's pen. 
 
 In the Garden that I Love there is a consider- 
 able amount of Mr. Austin's verse. It is difficult 
 to know how much, for both he and Shakespeare 
 are alike without quotation marks. This is a great 
 pity. The original verse might have stood un- 
 supported, but surely Shakespeare and other similar 
 writers should have been propped by quotation 
 marks. How else can we distinguish between them 
 
 o 
 
 and him ? The situation even disarms criticism, 
 if any criticism were possible, for how could the 
 mere ordinary person venture to take exception to 
 a passage which might turn out to be Milton's ? 
 It is obvious that the only thing to be done by 
 the wary reader is to ignore the poetical portions 
 of the book, and to enjoy that part which describes 
 the garden and its inhabitants ; even so there is 
 much still left us. 
 
 Four persons inhabit the Garden that I Love 
 the writer, who is also the gardener, his sister 
 Veronica, and his friends the poet and Lamia. At 
 least we are artfully persuaded that there are four 
 persons ; in reality there are only two Veronica, 
 and the gardener-poet rolled with Lamia into one. 
 
io8 JUNE 
 
 When these three speak seriously and there is a 
 good deal of serious speaking in the book you 
 would not know, if you shut your eyes, which of 
 them is addressing you. Lamia, to be sure, has 
 her frivolous moments, when for a brief space she 
 makes a possible third ; but when she is rhetorical 
 she is one with the gardener and the poet. 
 Veronica, on the other hand, has a separate 
 identity ; she is a simple being, and if she has 
 views she keeps them carefully to herself. There 
 is something very lovable about Veronica. She 
 listens patiently for hours to all that the others 
 have to say, and then she goes away and makes 
 tea for them. She knows how exhausted they 
 must be. They get rid of so many treasures of 
 thought that they must necessarily be left swept 
 and empty ; the need of sustenance is plainly in- 
 dicated, and Veronica supplies it. 
 
 Perhaps, however, the exhaustion is less than 
 it might have been if certain circumstances had 
 
 o 
 
 not come to their aid ; and herein is manifest 
 the wisdom of the Pooh-Bah arrangement. The 
 chronicler can give us treasures of verse as from 
 the mouth of the poet, paragraphs of floricultural 
 details through the lips of the gardener, and gems 
 of general utility from the irresponsible Lamia. 
 The talents of the three if displayed in one person 
 would invite incredulity. We should think it im- 
 possible that one small head could carry all the 
 aphorisms and gnomic sayings which the three 
 are anxious to distribute. We might begin to fear 
 cerebral congestion. So to spare ourselves distress 
 and anxiety we allow the writer to persuade us 
 
JUNE 109 
 
 that there are indeed three heads under the three 
 hats, and thus we breathe again. 
 
 The poet sometimes gives vent to an untenable 
 theory, but the gardener and Lamia, of course, 
 cannot be expected to set him right, and dear 
 little Veronica adores him far too much to do so. 
 He is bold enough to justify in the name of 
 restraint the bald and simple verse which is held 
 by some of our later poets to be one with the 
 true stuff. I cannot quite go with him here. 
 Restraint is, no doubt, an admirable quality, but 
 one ceases to admire it when it is inevitable. 
 It is difficult to esteem the restraint of a gagged 
 man who refrains from using bad language. The 
 restraint and nothing more of which we see so 
 much is a poor thing as a quality of verse, and 
 it is difficult to perceive how I'dme agitde of a 
 great poet in its moment of wildest frenzy could 
 be "controlled by the serenity of the mind." 
 Rigorous self-criticism is an essential, but I think 
 that it would follow, not accompany, the frenzy. 
 A poet must feel much in order to make his readers 
 feel a little ; he must weep many tears to ensure 
 that they shall weep a few. When a poet places 
 us in a situation where tears are obviously in- 
 dicated, I fancy we are justified in blaming him 
 if they do not come. If we accuse him not of 
 restraint, but, like the gagged man, of want of 
 power, I think we could make good our opinion. 
 I do not for a moment mean to disparage the poet's 
 admiration of restraint as a beautiful and a neces- 
 sary quality in verse, but merely to contend that 
 most of the restraint that would call itself by that 
 
i io JUNE 
 
 name is of the sort which cannot help itself, and 
 this must be regarded as a defect and not as a 
 beauty. 
 
 But if the poet sometimes rouses in me the spirit 
 of contradiction, the gardener takes a mean revenge 
 by trying to mystify his readers just as they think 
 that they are getting on nicely. His garden fills 
 one with envy, not only because there seem to be 
 no failures in it, but also on account of its aspect, 
 which varies apparently to suit the flora of different 
 climes. Its orientation is certainly a little difficult 
 to understand, but of course I am quite prepared to 
 ascribe the difficulty to my own stupidity, and to 
 believe that occasionally it slopes from north-east 
 to south-west, and again that it looks south-east, 
 simply because the gardener tells me so. But even 
 this readjustment of Nature's aspects will not quite 
 account for all the wonders that are in that garden. 
 On the 3Oth of May the gardener's wood is covered 
 with primroses, and this is not mentioned as an 
 out-of-the-way state of things, but is given as a 
 mere matter of fact. I, who have not his gift of 
 extending the seasons to keep my garden in beauty, 
 have indeed seen primroses on the 3Oth of May, 
 but I have never had the luck of beholding a wood 
 in the south of England "diapered with them" on 
 that date. I can only believe and sigh for my own 
 more limited opportunities. On the same date the 
 gardener describes his tulips as having closed their 
 petals for the night. Though it is a little late for 
 Dutch tulips, he might persuade us to recognise an 
 equal latitude for them as for the primroses but 
 that he has informed us in a previous chapter that 
 
JUNE 1 1 1 
 
 he takes up these bulbs during the third week of 
 May and lays them in by the heels. Of course, one 
 is then justified in jumping to the conclusion that 
 these flowers which have closed their petals for 
 the night are the late English tulips, until one is 
 reminded that in a previous chapter he has told us 
 that he has never made proper use of these. This 
 is one of those mysteries which hurt the under- 
 standing. Has he made any use of them, and are 
 they the flowers that have just closed their petals for 
 the night, or are his Dutch tulips so kind as to give 
 him a further season of their beauty after they are 
 laid in by the heels? These perplexities in a book 
 which should help me in my gardening ought not 
 so to be. They are too cruel to the merely average 
 floriculturist. They make me feel how small are 
 my powers in comparison with the powers of the 
 gardener in this book, /cannot find large expanses 
 of bluebells on my domain towards the latter end of 
 June ; my woods are not diapered with primroses 
 on the 3Oth of May ; I cannot grow woodruff from 
 cuttings. I cannot get half the good results that 
 this gardener gets from his garden, and the con- 
 sciousness not only of my inferior powers, but also 
 of Nature's unkindness in giving less lavishly to 
 me than to others, induces feelings of depression 
 akin to despair. The gardener-poet tells us that if 
 he were asked which of his works he likes best he 
 would answer " My garden." I have never seen 
 his garden, so it is obviously impossible for me to 
 re-echo this sentiment. But it must be a delightful 
 garden to wander in and to admire, even at the risk 
 of unworthy feelings of envy and the like. Loving 
 
112 JUNE 
 
 care has been lavished upon it without stint, and 
 Nature has met the workers more than half-way, 
 and has given them of her best. But it is some- 
 thing more than a beautiful garden. It is a beauti- 
 ful background in a beautiful picture a background 
 for inspiring thoughts and brilliant conversation 
 which demand an outlet there before appearing on 
 the printed page to delight a wider though hardly 
 a more appreciative audience. 
 
 Although Jim is an adorer of Elizabeth, his 
 special detestation in literature is the garden book, 
 and in this he is supported, as in many other things, 
 by Magdalen Clifford. If I have neglected before 
 to mention Magdalen, it is not because I do not 
 love her very dearly, though for years it would 
 never have occurred to me that she could be loved 
 of our family ; for she is that supplanter who 
 stepped into Jim's heritage. When she came to 
 the property she. was a toddling child governed 
 by her mother, who established a successful feud 
 between herself and us. When we returned to our 
 village there was no thought of any intercourse 
 between ourselves and our cousins at the Manor. 
 Magdalen's mother had made that impossible. 
 But four years later, on a day when joy bells rang 
 for Magdalen's coming of age, and the tenantry 
 were to be feasted and the county to be entertained 
 on that day, in the fresh spring morning, a slim 
 girl's figure swung through our garden gate, and 
 stepped up the straight path, and demanded to see 
 Jim and me. 
 
 "I am of age to-day," she said. " I am eighteen, 
 and I may do as I like. I want you to let me know 
 
A GIRL CAME UP THE STRAIGHT PATH 
 
JUNE 113 
 
 you ; I want to be friends. I am of age, and my 
 own mistress, and I have been longing for it just 
 that I might come to you. You won't send me 
 away ? " 
 
 There was a suspicious break in the fresh young 
 voice, and I kissed her, and I am sure that Jim 
 would have liked to kiss her too. The feud was at 
 an end from that moment, and even the intolerable 
 mother, when we went home that morning with 
 Magdalen, tried to pretend that it had never existed. 
 The years have passed since then, and Magdalen is 
 older by more than a thousand days, but is no less 
 winning than she was on that morn of reconcilia- 
 tion. Hardly a day passes that she does not come 
 to us, or we to her, and I have known her secret 
 long ago, though she has never told it. But Jim, 
 being a man, is stupid at seeing, or, if he sees, he 
 keeps his counsel well. I do not know that I have 
 much hope in the matter. Magdalen is proud, but 
 Jim's pride is to hers like a mountain to a road 
 grit ; and even if he cared, which I doubt, he 
 would not let her know. There would be too much 
 involved in it for him. 
 
 June 29. We are keeping the young cineraria 
 plants in a cold frame on the north side of a hedge, 
 and a veil of tiffany is laid near to shade them 
 when the sun is high in the heavens. Cinerarias 
 will not do their best if they have much warmth at 
 any stage of their growth except the last. It cost 
 me several packets of seed and three seasons' ex- 
 perience before I could impress this fact upon 
 Sterculus, but he talks now as if I were a babe 
 and he my instructor in cineraria growing, 
 i 
 
114 JUNE 
 
 " It ain't no good-on to talk about moving these 
 here into the greenhouse," he will say about Sep- 
 tember, a propos of no remark of mine ; " for not a 
 step will they go for the next two months if / can 
 help it." 
 
 This is the good Sterculus's way of showing me 
 that he has learnt his lesson. I ought to point out 
 to him that he is mistaken in assuming that I want 
 to coddle the cinerarias. I ought to put a stop to 
 his domineering tone of voice ; I ought, in fact, 
 to " keep him in his place," as Mrs. Clifford is fond 
 of telling me. But I am still glad of him, and 
 I know he is glad of me, in spite of his peculiar 
 way of showing it. So I accept his scorn, being 
 meek as a mouse the while, and look as though I 
 had learnt a valuable lesson from him, while he goes 
 away grunting that he isn't going to ruin his plants, 
 not for nobody. I wonder if I shall always be glad 
 of Sterculus, or if I may not perchance some day 
 contemplate with satisfaction the idea of his de- 
 parture, loving tender of my garden though he is. 
 
JULY 
 
 July T^ XPERIENCE of a bitter sort is teach- 
 4- 1^ ing me ever the necessity of staking 
 plants. In principle it is, of course, an atrocious 
 thing that should never be permitted in borders, 
 but it is essentially necessary in spite of principle. 
 Some things, such as oriental poppies, cry aloud 
 even in infancy for stakes ; but pyrethrums, erige- 
 rons, delphiniums, dahlias, and other robust plants 
 stand up so bravely before their blossoms form that 
 it is hard to believe that they will require support 
 later. The mischief is done when storms come 
 just as the stems are heavy with blooms, as they 
 did this year. They can be staked in their early 
 days in such a way as to show but little sign of 
 their props at the blooming period. The best time 
 to do it is when they have practically attained their 
 full height, but show no flower buds, and the best 
 kind of stake is the roughly tooled one of deal 
 or any harder wood, painted by the gardener the 
 colour known as Aspinall's fig-green. 
 
 This is about the time to thin the buds of carna- 
 tions. A general florist's rule is to leave the first, 
 third, and fourth, but the amateur will do well to 
 act in the matter by the light of nature, only pro- 
 
ii6 JULY 
 
 viding that each blossom shall have sufficient stem 
 to itself to allow of its being comfortably picked 
 when the flowering time comes. The Margaret 
 carnations which have survived the winter are as 
 forward as the ordinary border kinds, and require 
 more severe thinning than they. With a good 
 stock of border plants it is not worth while to keep 
 the Margarets through the winter, as the season 
 is not thereby prolonged. But all must sow seed 
 of these carnations under glass in February and 
 March, to ensure flowers for cutting in the autumn. 
 Last year I picked my last bunch of but half a 
 dozen blooms, I confess on Christmas Day, but 
 the weather would rarely in any season permit this 
 after November, if so late. I have just seen in 
 a friend's garden a dozen enormous clumps, over 
 a yard in diameter, of a certain border carnation 
 which he has had for years. The flower is some- 
 thing the colour of the rose Mrs. John Laing, but 
 deeper in tone, and I have begged some layers 
 from the lucky possessor. A carnation that will 
 increase and prosper in this manner, instead of 
 dwindling away in a decline after the first year 
 or two, is a valuable addition to a garden. 
 
 This is a good time to look over the borders 
 and judge what things should be removed in the 
 autumn, whether through over-abundant growth 
 or by their present juxtaposition with plants whose 
 colours do not harmonise with theirs. The crimson 
 pyrethrums, for instance, though pretty enough in 
 themselves, rarely blend well with other flowers. 
 It is best to keep them in one part of the border, 
 and closely among them may be planted bulbs of 
 
JULY 117 
 
 the Madonna lily, and of some later kinds also, to 
 continue the season of bloom in that part of the 
 bed. 
 
 Roses are a feature of the garden now. I am 
 not specially successful with them, but they are 
 doing well this year. To-day I cut seventy blooms 
 for the house, and left over three hundred equally 
 good ones on the bushes. The only very dark one 
 that never fails is Eugen Flirst. It is a beautiful 
 velvety claret colour, remarkably free -blooming, 
 and easily managed. It is not so perfect a flower 
 as Jean Liabaud at its best, which I consider the 
 finest of all the dark roses ; but I do not get one 
 good bloom in a dozen of Jean Liabaud, while 
 every one comes right of Eugen Fiirst. Of true 
 rose-coloured ones Countess of Oxford is as use- 
 ful as any, its early blossoms especially being of 
 a wonderful glowing tint. In bright crimsons 
 A. K. Williams is unsurpassed to my mind, Ulrich 
 Brunner and Marie Baumann being also excellent. 
 Among pinks I like best Madame Gabrielle Luizet, 
 Mrs. John Laing, and Captain Christy for good 
 all-round serviceable qualities, and Margaret Dick- 
 son, Violette Bouyer, and Clio are a good white 
 trio. All these are easy to rear and to do well. 
 I have made several disastrous experiments in rose- 
 growing, and am gradually getting rid of such as 
 will not repay ordinary attention. I had a bed, 
 for instance, of Salamander, and another of Ella 
 Gordon, both greatly lauded by the growers, and 
 admirable flowers at their best, but as they never 
 let me see their best I ceased to think them worth 
 giving up my beds to, and they are now trying to hold 
 
u8 JULY 
 
 their own in an ignoble place under some standards, 
 and failing sadly still. Spenser, also, in which I 
 indulged freely without any experience to guide 
 me, turned out to be scentless, and though in most 
 years an admirable doer, it is consequently devoid 
 of charm for me. It is a sport from Baroness 
 Rothschild, or from her progeny Her Majesty, and 
 inherits this bad quality from her. 
 
 EATS ALL THE BLOOMS HE CAN REACH 
 
 July 75. Crimson Rambler over a bower is 
 looking exquisite. It ought to be grown with 
 The Garland, if any combination is desired with 
 it. The two bloom together, and the white and 
 crimson look well intermixed. An old-fashioned 
 evergreen rose, Flora, on a north wall is good in 
 many useful respects. It makes rampant wood, 
 and one can cut great boughs of it for the house. 
 Its shell-tinted little blossoms are beautiful of their 
 kind, though they would not satisfy those persons 
 
JULY 
 
 119 
 
 who must have all their flowers of the largest size. 
 A hedge of white Ayrshires and pink hedge-roses 
 has been spoilt by the new pony, who puts his head 
 over and eats all the blooms he can reach, with not 
 a few thorns as well. 
 
 EVENING PRIMROSES IN THE WILD GARDEN 
 
 The yellow alstromerias are in full glory. There is 
 a round bed of them, edged with fimkia grandiflora, 
 whose beautiful fringe leads the long stems of the 
 alstromerias gently into the ground. Many persons 
 refrain from growing alstromerias because they do 
 not consider them hardy, but they are hardy enough 
 if planted nine inches below the surface, and un- 
 
120 JULY 
 
 like many bulbous things, they do not object to such 
 a deep burial. They are rampant growers, and it 
 is best not to combine them with other flowers, as 
 they soon smother all their neighbours. Oriental 
 poppies may be cut down to the ground as soon as 
 they have ceased flowering. Some of mine which 
 were so treated towards the end of June are now 
 throwing up good tufts of foliage which will prevent 
 their being an eyesore much longer. 
 
 Very few persons care properly for the various 
 evening primroses which add such a charm to the 
 garden in July. The too persistent and troublesome 
 cenothera biennis and its allies should be kept in 
 the wild garden, but such varieties as CE. Youngii, 
 (E. speciosa, and CE. taraxacifolia are some of the 
 best perennials I know, full of a refined beauty and 
 flowering over a fairly long season. They are all 
 easy to grow, and it is worth while in the case of 
 the last, which has what I should consider an un- 
 deserved reputation for tenderness, to throw over 
 the clumps in winter a handful of ashes or of fern. 
 This dandelion-leafed evening primrose makes very 
 large spreading plants in late summer, its prostrate 
 shoots sometimes reaching a yard or more from 
 its root ; and it is well to plant with it some 
 earlier bulbous flower which will bloom before the 
 cenothera's season begins in July. The Spanish 
 iris makes an admirable companion for it. 
 
 This is St. Swithun's Day, and the annual village 
 feast is being celebrated. Every Giles takes his 
 Jane, and the enjoyment is fast and furious. I 
 used to go to it sometimes when I was younger, 
 but this led more than once to complications of 
 
JULY 
 
 121 
 
 an awkward sort. It is better not to see one's 
 rustic friends when they are in a state which could 
 only euphemistically be called rollicking. And 
 
 REVELLERS 
 
 besides, they hurt one's feelings sometimes when 
 beer is inside them. 
 
 " We likes 'ee ; we be allus glad to see 'ee but 
 we can do wi'out 'ee," said one of my best friends 
 on such an occasion as this. 
 
 " I've knowed 'ee since I used to kiss 'ee when 
 
122 
 
 JULY 
 
 'ee was the height of a sha-a-ft," said an ancient 
 carter in liquor on another feast day to me. So 
 perhaps it is better to stay away both for their 
 credit and for my own. The last time I was there 
 
 "THE HEIGHT OF A SHA-A-FT" 
 
 we went a little party of four, and we took refuge 
 from rollickers at the cocoanut shy. The cocoa- 
 nut man supplied us with the value of a few pence 
 in wooden balls with the utmost alacrity ; but very 
 soon his delight turned to gloom, and presently he 
 offered us sixpence to desist from our throwing, so 
 
JULY 123 
 
 even he could "do wi'out us." I shall not go to our 
 feast again, for although I like to see the rustic 
 enjoy himself, I do not care to meet him in his cups. 
 The sight is not a pretty one. 
 
 And yet it is wonderful when one comes to con- 
 sider the vast improvement that a few years have 
 worked in this matter. The agricultural labourer 
 may not yet be a sober man, but he is infinitely more 
 sober than he used to be when I was a girl, and the 
 best sign of all is in the fact that public opinion is 
 dead against him when he is given to indulgence in 
 too much liquor. Formerly the thing was so much 
 a matter of course that there appeared to be no 
 difference, or at any rate very little, between the 
 uniformly steady man and the man who was given 
 to an occasional " breaking out," in the estimation 
 of his neighbours of his own rank. But education 
 and a general tendency to level up have done 
 wonders in raising the standard of public opinion, 
 and the man who only indulges in an occasional 
 debauch is looked upon almost as coldly as the 
 hopeless sot who spends every night and half his 
 earnings at the public-house. 
 
 The rustic is a curious and amusing study when 
 he first begins to feel the craving for self-improve- 
 ment, especially if the time for such craving has 
 been delayed until his youth is past. The process 
 is somewhat uncomfortable while it is yet a process, 
 for it seems necessarily to involve the giving up of 
 old ways and modes of thought simply because they 
 are old of throwing off recognised customs merely 
 because they have existed too long. The man of 
 advanced views in a country village has no means 
 
124 JULY 
 
 of testing these views and proving their value ; they 
 can never develop into experience. He has a 
 yearning for another sphere of action in which his 
 associates will be those who think as he thinks, but 
 he is probably married, and the burdens of the 
 father and the householder restrict his liberty, so 
 he tries to compass for his children that enlarge- 
 ment which he has no means of actually securing 
 for himself. 
 
 One of my friends is a man of this description. 
 He prides himself on his modernity, and he despises 
 his wife a little because she cannot understand him. 
 Maria has been brought up in conventional mode, 
 and any departure from it strikes her merely as 
 eccentric "comical," as it is called in village circles. 
 So the two are living at opposite poles, but they 
 meet and shake hands whenever the question of the 
 children arises. 
 
 " I don't know what to do wi' the childern," sighs 
 poor Maria, with latent pride and yet a little antici- 
 patory fear ; " they be gettin' so clever." 
 
 " They be ! " responds her husband proudly. 
 
 " When they comes home from school they talks 
 about oblongs an' sperricals, an' / don't know what 
 they be drivin' at, Dan'el." 
 
 " Danny-ul," corrects the husband, who goes in 
 for correctness of speech so far as he recognises it. 
 
 " Danny-ul," assents Maria. 
 
 " Ah ! " says Daniel, with a reproachful shake of 
 the head at his wife's hopeless ignorance, " mine 
 be a clever fam'ly, Merire, an' no mistake ; an' 
 when folks asks where they gets it from, I says, 
 ' Not from their moother.' That's what I says, 
 * Not from their moother." 
 
JULY 
 
 125 
 
 " Maybe," assents Maria wearily. 
 
 Maria thinks that it is the duty of a woman to 
 listen to her husband's words of wisdom, to fetch 
 and to carry for him, to bear him children and to 
 be their slave, to keep his house clean, and to earn 
 
 "NOT FROM THEIR MOOTHER " 
 
 a little money in the intervals by field-work or 
 charing. Her politics, unlike her husband's, are 
 extremely narrow. The only government from 
 which she has ever received any tangible benefit is 
 an ecclesiastical one, and her hopes and expectations 
 centre on the prime ministry of the parson. If a 
 
126 JULY 
 
 pig dies he is good for several shillings towards its 
 successor ; his long-tailed coats cut up into two for 
 the boys, with a piece to spare for patches ; his 
 store of beef-tea and little liver pills and flannel is 
 practically inexhaustible. Of course, there are many 
 things which he might give her, yet does not give ; 
 she by no means approves entirely even of him. 
 But on the other hand there is, with his exception, 
 no person in the world from whom she can count 
 on extracting anything whatever ; and her politics 
 are confined to the maintenance of friendly relations 
 with the sole government which comes within the 
 limit of her experience. 
 
 Her religion is also narrow. She clings with 
 fervour to the book of Genesis and to a few other 
 plain and simple stories in subsequent portions of 
 the Bible which seem to her coherent and worthy 
 of attention. Sometimes this is a grief to her 
 husband, who objects to her readings as behind the 
 feeling of the age. 
 
 " Don't tell the child the world was made in six 
 days, an' don't tell en it wasrit" he urges. " Leave 
 en to puzzle it out fer hisself himself an' come to 
 the conclusion whe'r it sounds a likely story." 
 
 For Daniel calls himself "an up-to-date sort o' 
 feller," and objects to bigotry from any point of 
 view whatever. " Us findy-seekle chaps goes fer 
 toleration," he says, and his politics and his religion 
 are alike devoid of prejudice, except at election 
 times, when his innate Liberalism becomes some- 
 what rabid in its quality. 
 
 He is very firm on the subject of education. His 
 children dare not miss an attendance at school, for 
 
JULY 127 
 
 he maintains that from education come all the good 
 things of life. The arts especially impress him with 
 their importance. He never grudges the money to 
 buy a violin for Jessie or a cornet for Sidney ; but 
 it is Maria who has to scrape and to save and to go 
 shabby to pay the bill, for a wage of fifteen shillings 
 a week leaves little margin for luxuries. 
 
 " Did Choice go out an' take a picter to-day as I 
 told en ? " he asks, after supper. 
 
 " Yes, Dan el." 
 
 " Danny-iil." 
 
 "Yes, Danny-ul, he did." 
 
 " What picter did he take ? " 
 
 "Him an' Tom Dunch went up to the vicarage 
 an' set down afore the house an' took its picter quite 
 comferable. The Vicar come out an' looked at 'em." 
 
 "Ah! the Vicar'll see as he ain't the on'y one 
 as can take sketches of other folks' houses," says 
 Daniel, with satisfaction. "Our eddication autho- 
 rities is gettin' the right way to work at last. In 
 twenty years' time there'll be as many artisses in 
 cottages as there is in mansions. Let me see the 
 picter." 
 
 The picture has been carefully put away in the 
 drawer of the dresser, wrapped in a sheet of 
 Reynolds '. Daniel holds it between his finger and 
 thumb, and puts his head first on one side and then 
 on the other, to focus it rightly. 
 
 " There's talent in it," he remarks admiringly, 
 when he has finished his scrutiny ; " there's talent 
 in it. I don't say 'tis like a house, an' I don't say 
 'tis the size of a house. What I says is, there's 
 talent in it. I see saw a sketch of Mr. Bunce's 
 
128 
 
 JULY 
 
 the other day, an' 'twas done did done pretty 
 much in this style ; the cows was on'y about an 
 inch long an' the barns wasn't a quarter o' their 
 
 "THIS HERE SKETCH IS UP TO DATE 5 ' 
 
 nateral length. You see you couldn't get 'em all 
 in if you was to make 'em life-size. You couldn't 
 get a cow in, let alone a barn." 
 
 It has struck Maria that the windows in Choice's 
 
JULY 129 
 
 cottage are ludicrously inadequate for the admission 
 of light and air, and the dog lying on the doorstep 
 is more the size of a blackbeetle than of a dog, 
 for Choice's hand has been guided by the Vicar, 
 and proportion and perspective have been to some 
 extent recognised in consequence. The many 
 chromos on the kitchen wall are accepted as mere 
 pictures, not being comparable with anything exist- 
 ing in nature. But everyone knows old Toby, 
 and loud guffaws would be likely to follow the 
 exhibition of a portrait which makes him look 
 no larger than a wasp on the window-pane. 
 
 "When there's anything in a picter as can't be 
 understood, Merire, or anything as looks unnateral, 
 depend upon it 'tis summat somethink artistic. 
 This here sketch shows talent, and this here sketch 
 is up to date. I shall make a frame fer it the next 
 wet day we gets, an' Choice shall be an artis'." 
 
 Daniel is a keen observer of the phenomena 
 of nature, and a student of White's History of 
 Selborne, which he borrows from the village library. 
 He cordially agrees with most of the theories con- 
 tained in this book, not excepting that one which 
 represents the swallow as hibernating in the mud 
 at the bottom of ponds. He holds that he could 
 have told the author many details which are miss- 
 ing from the History, as well as much that he 
 reads therein, and could in this latter case have 
 spared him the trouble of puzzling them out for 
 himself. He has lately taken to astronomy, and 
 has learnt the names and positions of a few of the 
 principal constellations, and at times of eclipses and 
 of the reappearance of comets he has much to say. 
 K 
 
130 JULY 
 
 Meteors also greatly interest him, and those which 
 were expected some time since, and never arrived, 
 roused his scorn of the wise men who had foretold 
 them. He spent several nights in searching for 
 them, and even now he is not tired of relating his 
 curious experiences to a sympathetic listener. 
 
 " I scanned the horrazon," he says, "from Uriah 
 to Ursula Major " (did he mean from Orion to 
 Ursa Major?), "an' I saw no me-oters whatever. 
 But some queer things happened in the sky- 
 things as comical as ever I did see. Ursula was 
 behavin' quite proper" (very consoling, this), "an' 
 the Pole Star, he never budged an inch ; but most 
 o' the big stars wandered about a good bit, some 
 on 'em as many as twenty or thirty yards from their 
 rightful plazes. There wasn't no me-oters, not to 
 call me-oters, but what / says is I expects that's 
 how they went off." 
 
 I cannot quite follow my friend Daniel's line of 
 reasoning here, but his interest in astronomy is as 
 indisputable as his strict sobriety. 
 
 July 24. Before the end of this month two of 
 the most important of outdoor operations demand 
 attention the budding of roses and the layering 
 of carnations. 
 
 Few things are more heartbreaking than to see 
 unclouded skies succeed each other, day in, day 
 out, all through the time when rosebuds are crying 
 aloud to be united to the brier stock. I have 
 never been very successful in budding after giving 
 them water from the watering-pot, though I have 
 carried on the operation for a week or more before 
 budding. The natural rain from heaven is far more 
 
JULY 131 
 
 satisfactory than the gardener's feeble attempts to 
 supply moisture. This year Jupiter Pluvius has 
 been good to us, and the sap is rising fairly 
 quickly after a considerable period of dry weather. 
 Budding is not easily learned from books; a half- 
 hour's lesson from a practical gardener will teach 
 it far more easily and correctly. But it is well 
 to remind oneself at times of little details which 
 may possibly be forgotten. 
 
 All through the spring an eye is kept on the 
 stocks, and only those branches are allowed to 
 grow which are the required height from the base 
 of the tree. We generally keep two shoots on 
 each stock, and enter buds on both, in case one 
 should fail ; if both take, the upper one is removed 
 by cutting away the head. It is a great mistake to 
 shorten back the spray at the time of budding, for 
 this checks the flow of sap, and the buds may fail 
 for want of nourishment. 
 
 When the stock has been budded the gardener's 
 care does not yet come to an end. In favourable 
 circumstances the bud unites in five or six weeks' 
 time, and the heads must be looked over and the 
 ties loosened a little if they require it ; that is to 
 say, if the bud is swelling and the ligature is tight. 
 Sometimes the bud remains dormant until the 
 following spring, so that the tie need not be 
 unbound ; but often it begins to grow in the late 
 summer, and requires stopping as soon as it is a 
 few inches high. This causes the sap to con- 
 centrate in the rings, and thus to prepare the way 
 for the pushing of side-shoots next spring, and the 
 consequent formation of a good head, About 
 
132 JULY 
 
 October we cut in the head of wild brier to a 
 moderate extent, not entirely removing it ; and 
 even in March, when the tree is finally trimmed, 
 one bud of the wild branch is left above the in- 
 serted bud. This is called the sap bud, and it 
 draws the sap upward and helps the scion to push 
 into a head. If this wild bud were not left the sap 
 might not easily flow into the inserted scion, and 
 the brier would throw up side-shoots all down the 
 stem instead of concentrating its powers on the new 
 bud. 
 
 With the pruning of the spray . in March comes 
 the cutting in of the brier top, which was probably 
 a few inches taller than the branch on which the 
 bud was entered. This top is cut down in a slightly 
 slanting direction so closely to the base of the 
 budded shoot that hardly more than the eighth of 
 an inch shall remain above it. The wound is 
 covered with clay paint to prevent the loss of 
 sap. 
 
 Presently the sap bud begins to grow vigorously, 
 and when it has shown perhaps three pair of 
 leaves it is stopped by nipping off the top. This 
 will induce the inserted bud to take the lead, and 
 it should now grow away merrily, the sap bud being 
 reduced, if necessary, by degrees to smaller dimen- 
 sions, and finally about midsummer cut away alto- 
 gether. By this time the wild growth will be 
 entirely superseded by the rose, which should be 
 a good tree, carrying the best flowers it will ever 
 bear, for from these maiden plants come the finest 
 blooms which adorn the tables at the rose shows. 
 
 Carnations should be layered while yet the plants 
 
JULY 133 
 
 are in full flower, or they will not root sufficiently 
 to be transplanted in the early autumn. Conse- 
 quently the end of July, or the early days of 
 August, are the most suitable. The earth is 
 scraped away round the plants to a depth of two 
 inches, and the hole is filled up with good potting 
 soil. Each shoot is stripped up to the top four 
 
 !< IN MA PAWKET 
 
 joints, and then with a sharp knife the cut is made 
 half through a shoot, just below a joint, with a slant 
 upward and through the joint. A layering peg is 
 inserted into the compost above the tongue, and as 
 the peg comes down into the ground it catches the 
 tongue and thrusts it into the earth. A little more 
 soil is placed over the tongue, the plants are care- 
 fully watered, and by early October they should be 
 
134 JULY 
 
 well rooted and ready to transfer to their flowering 
 quarters. 
 
 July 27. The curate has just called on his way 
 home from his holiday. He has been for three 
 weeks in Normandy, and, as he was walking, I 
 naturally asked him where his luggage was. 
 
 " In ma pawket," he replied. 
 
 There was no sign of a bulge in any of his 
 pockets except the betraying outline of a pipe over 
 his heart. The dear old man is leaving here next 
 month, and intends to die in the North Country, 
 where he was born and, from his speech, evidently 
 reared as well. He is parlous old anything be- 
 tween seventy and eighty and his faculties are 
 not what they were. The Sunday before he went 
 for his holiday there was to be a baptism at the 
 evening service, and the clerk, to ensure his re- 
 membering it, wrote on the back of a National 
 Anthem, which had been left unnoticed ever since 
 the Accession, the warning words 
 
 " Crisnen after 2 lessen." 
 
 Mr. Tyler jumped up from his knees in the 
 middle of the General Confession, and announced 
 firmly 
 
 " We will now sing * God save the King.' ' 
 
 The choirman nearest him redirected his atten- 
 tion to his prayer, and after a breathless interval of 
 anxiety all went well again. One Sunday last 
 spring he unconsciously modified one of the peti- 
 tions in the Litany in a rather startling manner, 
 which, however, was quite unperceived by his 
 rustic congregation. 
 
 "That it may please Thee to bless and preserve 
 
JULY 135 
 
 to our use George Prince of Wales, the Princess of 
 Wales, and all the Royal Family, so that in due 
 time we may enjoy them." 
 
 These alterations in divine service are a little 
 disturbing to the attentive worshipper, though we 
 are now quite accustomed to his announcing the 
 hymn as the " three hundred and forty-second morn- 
 ing of the month," and there is not a smile as we 
 
 CHOIR-BOYS 
 
 look for the canticle so numbered in our books. 
 I heard a small choir-boy, however, whose patience 
 presumably was exhausted, say to another one even- 
 ing as we issued in the dark from the porch 
 
 6 What / says is, he's like a old 'orse as ought to 
 be shot " ; but luckily Mr. Tyler is deaf, and as the 
 
136 JULY 
 
 child had no thought that he was overheard it 
 seemed best to ignore the remark. Everyone likes 
 the good old soul, and wishes him well. The God 
 to whom he tries his best to lead us is a strictly 
 anthropomorphic Being, and the heaven he pro- 
 mises us every Sunday would rival the Mohamme- 
 dan paradise. We rarely get a sermon without a 
 vivid description of "the dainties and deli^^cies of 
 the Kingdom of Heaven," and he smacks his lips 
 when he speaks of them. He has had so few 
 nice things in his life, poor dear ! There are 
 other stereotyped features in his sermons which 
 we look for every Sunday, such as "going up and 
 down the rahpids of life " ; and when he traces the 
 footsteps of biblical exemplars for our guidance, he 
 does not follow them from the cradle to the grave, 
 but from the " bahsinette to the sepulchre." 
 
AUGUST 
 
 Aug. T AM MAS DAY rouses in me all the anta- 
 ! 1 ^ gonism to our modern land tenure of 
 which my disposition is capable. A feature which 
 was once so prominent in village life and is now 
 non-existent was the possession by the people of 
 large tracts of land held in common. From Lam- 
 mas or from Michaelmas to Lady Day these tracts 
 practically belonged to the villager. We have in 
 this parish various large portions of waste and 
 marsh lands which at one time formed part of 
 a great public property. Even so recently as the 
 year 1550 a Survey of the parish recites the 
 boundaries of extensive heaths and commons on 
 which parishioners were entitled to pasture their 
 cattle ; but it is probable that these rights of 
 "free communication" had in some degree lapsed 
 before the lands were enclosed and appropriated 
 by the lord of the manor in 1820. In Saxon days, 
 however, they must have formed a considerable 
 portion of the whole parish. 
 
 Though the point has never been clearly set at 
 rest, it is justifiable to believe that at the periods 
 of the early settlements of our country a large 
 proportion of the land belonged to the people. 
 
 137 
 
138 AUGUST 
 
 The freemen of the village community owned a 
 lord, indeed, but he was hardly better than primus 
 inter pares, and had his recognised duties side by 
 side with his recognised rights. To understand the 
 position it is necessary to bear in mind the sparse- 
 ness of the population. The county of Middlesex, 
 for instance, so lately as eight hundred years ago was 
 estimated to contain only 2, 289 souls. The patches of 
 cultivated ground in a village in Saxon days would 
 be infinitesimal in comparison with their surround- 
 ing expanses of folk land. A lord might slice off 
 for himself any choice portions, and yet leave for 
 the community more than they could use of the 
 desolate areas of waste or forest in which they had 
 their rights. In later times the permission of the 
 King was necessary for this sort of appropriation, 
 and I find in the twelfth century a writ of Henry I. 
 which refers to this parish. The King had here 
 a huntsman called Crook ; it is to " Croco vena- 
 tori " that he addresses his mandate, requiring him 
 to permit the monks of Abingdon to break up 
 certain waste land in the parish. The monks had 
 a settlement here, and it would be beneficial to all 
 sections of the community that they should bring 
 under cultivation a part of the waste tract, which was 
 practically valueless because there was a great deal 
 too much of it. The people were few ; their pro- 
 perty was almost illimitable. The breaking up of 
 more land would represent an increase of food and 
 employment for the inhabitants. So Crocus Venator 
 was told to put no hindrance in the way of the 
 monks, who were doubtless inspired by benevolence 
 in their agricultural intentions. 
 
AUGUST 139 
 
 Our parish in those days, though of course co- 
 terminus with several other parishes, had little 
 communication with them. Beyond its practicable 
 limits lay a lonely waste. In the centre was the 
 ham, with the lord's wooden hall, the church, and 
 rude hovels made of wattle and daub. Around 
 this was the cultivated land and grass yards for 
 rearing; calves and other animals the common 
 
 o 
 
 farmstead, in fact. Then came the pastures in 
 which the people had rights after the lord had 
 made his hay. And outside all were the woods 
 and marshes and uncultivated land, generally termed 
 the waste. From this waste the public supplied 
 themselves with firebote, hedgebote, and housebote, 
 and also found what sustenance for their oreese and 
 
 o 
 
 cattle and other stock the more restricted pasture 
 areas could not yield. But although sometimes 
 portions of this waste were taken over and tilled, 
 and came thus gradually under cultivation, this was 
 not the only means by which waste land was 
 reclaimed. Occasionally the portionless younger 
 son of a lord would break away from his family 
 and penetrate into the waste with a few followers, 
 build dwellings, and cultivate the hitherto virgin 
 soil, and thus a new lordship would be gradually 
 formed, with powers over its adherents, and in 
 time recognised suzerainty over all who dwelt 
 within its boundaries. 
 
 At the time of the Norman Conquest most of 
 the twenty thousand Saxon manors were taken over 
 by new lords. In some counties, as over the 
 border in Hampshire, the passion of the King 
 and his court for hunting caused the afforesting 
 
140 AUGUST 
 
 of large tracts of land which had been reclaimed 
 and given over to the plough. The workers 
 were driven from their fields, elbowed out of 
 their lands, and compelled sometimes to find 
 means of subsistence in unlawful ways. But apart 
 from this local evil attendant on the change, the 
 land question was but little altered. The King 
 claimed seignorial sway over all the lands of 
 England, but in his redistribution there was little 
 outward change in the actual position of the lower 
 classes as regards their common rights. This came 
 gradually and imperceptibly. By degrees the waste, 
 which was originally the people's waste, began to 
 be designated as the lord's waste. The manorial 
 system, which was defined and fixed under Norman 
 lawyers, recognised with the King's suzerainty 
 the landlord's all-embracing ownership. Since he 
 owned the persons of his dependents, he regarded 
 himself as owner also of their property. The 
 legal theory assumed the landlord as deriving his 
 property in the first instance by a grant from 
 the Crown, he in his turn giving out of his con- 
 sideration certain privileges to his tenants and 
 serfs. The earlier communal ownership of land 
 was ignored by those who were strong enough 
 to take all that they coveted ; and so by degrees 
 the people's waste became the lord's waste, and 
 the heritage of the poor was grabbed by the 
 rich and powerful. And thus there grew up a 
 belief that the common lands were rightly diverted 
 from their proper use when the lord assumed his 
 ownership of them and determined to enclose and 
 cultivate them ; and those commoners who pro- 
 
AUGUST 143 
 
 tested against his encroachments found themselves 
 confronted in the year 1235 with a special Act 
 drawn up for their discomfiture and disinheriting. 
 This Act, the famous Statute of Merton, was in 
 effect the first of nearly seventeen hundred En- 
 closure Acts, which up to the year 1800 robbed the 
 poor man of his property and gave it to the rich 
 man. In 1801 the provisions of these many Bills 
 were consolidated in Sir John Sinclair's Enclosure 
 Act, under whose ample provisions the work of 
 spoliation went on apace, and the next generation 
 saw its completion. The people woke up to find 
 themselves stript of their property. They had 
 ceased to be owners of land ; the only portion 
 which had ever been theirs had been stolen from 
 them while they slept. 
 
 We can still trace in our parish the last rem- 
 nants of folk land, which were enclosed nearly a 
 century ago. Up to that time on Lammas Day 
 the heath began to be noisy with the lowing of 
 cows and the quacking of geese, and gay with 
 children whose right it was to play there. There 
 are not many ancient institutions which I would 
 gladly welcome back amongst us, but I should be 
 happy indeed if I could believe that the commons 
 and heaths and wastes of our rural parishes would 
 ever belong again to their rightful owners. 
 
 Aug. 10. Beds of annuals are now good ; some, 
 such as petunias, at their best. These are rather 
 handsome in mixed colours with a wide edging of 
 white pansies, but it is a wonderful thing that people 
 do not oftener grow the old-fashioned pink variety, 
 which is almost a true pink, with but a little of the 
 
H4 AUGUST 
 
 aniline tint that is commonly seen. Cosmos is 
 one of the newer and disappointing annuals. If 
 the flower was as good as the foliage it would be 
 excellent ; but the habit is tall and straggling, the 
 flowers are sparse, and frequently bad in colour, 
 and the plant is unworthy of consideration in com- 
 parison with many older things. An annual which 
 is not yet sufficiently known is nemesia the 
 strumosa Suttoni variety, which has hardly a bad 
 tint in the whole of its range. It lasts well, too, 
 and where a few varieties of annuals only can be 
 grown, this is indispensable. So is the gorgeous 
 phacelia campanularia, which is the best and bright- 
 est of all. Its colour is the true gentian blue ; it is 
 the earliest to bloom of all the best annuals, and 
 should consequently be sown late if wanted for 
 August. I should like to grow this with a border 
 of some pale mauve flower, such as the palest 
 ageratum, and near at hand I should have nothing 
 but a bed of white phlox Drummondi, and one of 
 pansies of the faintest maize colour. Blue to be 
 seen at its best should be associated with other cool 
 colours. Petunias, for instance, would destroy half 
 its charm if they came too near. Ageratum, on the 
 contrary, if sufficiently delicate in tone, would help 
 the phacelia on to the white phlox, which again 
 might lead the way to warmer tints. 
 
 Another excellent blue flower which I have 
 mentioned before is the commelina celestis, rarely 
 seen in gardens. I suppose this is because it is, 
 strictly speaking, a tender perennial, and as such 
 has been discredited by growers of hardy flowers ; 
 but if treated as an annual it is all that can be 
 
AUGUST 145 
 
 desired. We generally sow the seed under glass, 
 and transfer the seedlings later to small pots. In 
 autumn, if required, the tubers may be lifted and 
 stored in dry sand under the greenhouse stage, 
 and may be planted out rather closely together 
 in the following spring ; but I have always found 
 the best results from giving it annual treatment. 
 The blue of the commelina is quite as good as 
 that of the phacelia, and it lasts longer in bloom. 
 
 Beds of mixed eschscholtzias are always striking 
 and fairly continuous. Care must be taken, how- 
 ever, not to include the pretty rose cardinal variety 
 in a mixed bed, as it would destroy the harmony ; 
 and care must be taken again to keep them away 
 from all flowers of a pink or crimson shade. 
 
 Nothing is more pleasing than good beds of 
 stocks ; their sweetness makes them the most 
 valuable of the tender annuals. Marigolds of 
 various kinds are useful, but these differ in value, 
 such a one, for instance, as the newer French 
 variety, Legion of Honour, being positively harmful 
 to the eye in its outrageous mingling of crimson 
 and orange. Brown is the only possible combina- 
 tion with the natural deep yellow of marigolds, 
 and the more brown there is the greater will be 
 the success of the bed. But the humble little 
 tagetes is perhaps the most useful still of all the 
 self oranges, and makes a handsome show when 
 more flaunting things have yielded to age and 
 infirmity. 
 
 There is something in annual asters to please 
 every taste except one, and that one the only 
 taste which should be considered. They should 
 
I 4 6 AUGUST 
 
 be abolished from the gardens of every lover of 
 the beautiful. We could not in these days endure 
 chrysanthemums of such stiff, unpleasing form and 
 crude range of colouring ; why not carry on the 
 healthy feeling of repulsion to the unsatisfactory 
 aster, and get rid of it entirely until growers can 
 improve it out of its present shape and tints? 
 The only tolerable ones are the single varieties. 
 I cannot think why asters should be considered 
 a necessity of the garden ; from the castle to the 
 cottage the summer show is spoilt by them, and 
 when they are displayed in mixed beds they should 
 set on edge the teeth of the gardener of discern- 
 ment. But the years come and go, and still they 
 retain their supremacy in the garden, and better 
 things are neglected for them. 
 
 Few things are lovelier than masses of the half- 
 hardy dianthus chinensis treated as an annual. 
 The colours are good ; the tufts are thoroughly 
 floriferous, and the bloom lasts for months together. 
 Yet one seldom sees them except as isolated plants. 
 They are admirable if sown in February and 
 bedded out under rose bushes, as they carry on 
 the colour scheme of the roses, and keep the beds 
 furnished. 
 
 Zinnias, if used at all, should be chosen with 
 discretion, a general hotch - potch mixture being 
 most displeasing. It is best to get separate packets 
 of the yellows, oranges, and whites, and to mix 
 them for one's self, omitting entirely all of a pink 
 or magenta shade. Gardeners go wrong over these 
 even more often than over petunias, godetias, and 
 clarkias. Most of the shades of these two last are 
 
AUGUST 147 
 
 quite impossible ; the deep crimsons, coral pinks, 
 and white, which are the only admissible ones, are 
 usually lost in a maze of lilac, magenta, and kindred 
 tints, which completely cheapen the value of the 
 good colours amongst them. The fact that on 
 their introduction the flowers were mainly weak 
 and washy, and that growers consequently became 
 habituated to bad shades in them, should not make 
 us lose sight of the fact that there are good ones 
 now to be had, and that the bad should not be 
 tolerated on any plea whether of economy or over- 
 sight. 
 
 And to ensure good colours we must go to good 
 dealers. For the seeds of perennials this is a 
 matter of less moment than for the seeds of 
 annuals. Many of the perennials have no variation 
 from the type colour ; seed from a penny-packet 
 man may not come up, but if it comes up it will 
 probably be as good as that from an expensive 
 place. Of course there are many perennials to 
 which this remark would not apply, but as a general 
 rule it may stand good. But with annuals it is 
 not so. Cheap annuals are often bad annuals. 
 They are always bad annuals when they include 
 bad colours in their range. That is the reason 
 why they are cheap. In ordering flower seeds a 
 very good plan is to proceed as follows : 
 
 Divide your seeds into two lists ; in one list 
 those, whether annuals or perennials, which are 
 represented by only one shade, such as phacelia 
 campanularia, commelina celestis, tagetes, and those 
 named kinds which are sold separately, although 
 their variety is not limited to one tint, such as 
 
148 AUGUST 
 
 eschscholtzia mandarin, antirrhinum snow queen, 
 and such-like things. Get these, if you can, from 
 a penny man, if economy is an object. The second 
 list should contain all mixed seeds, as well as those 
 named ones which the penny man does not sell. 
 Order these from the best dealers. 
 
 Sweet peas are among the most useful of flowers 
 for cutting just now. We sow a row under a 
 south wall in October or November, and from 
 February to June more are drilled in for succession. 
 Those sown in the autumn, however, often outlast 
 the spring ones, and if the seed pods are kept 
 from forming are useful well into the autumn. 
 The June planting is rather flukey ; in a warm 
 October you may pick large quantities, but in many 
 seasons all that one can hope to get from them 
 are their lovely trails of green to add to bouquets 
 of other flowers. But even if one has no more 
 than this from them the trouble of sowing is well 
 repaid. 
 
 It is a great pity that growers are trying to 
 change the form of the sweet pea. The wings 
 with rounded top, which are taking the place of the 
 old cleft wings, may be pretty enough, and at any 
 rate the change in this respect is no disadvantage. 
 But the hooded shape which these wings are 
 assuming through the efforts of the specialist 
 growers is anything but an improvement. It can 
 be seen at its very worst in the hideous object 
 called Red Riding Hood, which was introduced 
 five or six years ago ; and if our new varieties 
 are to follow the form of Red Riding Hood, 
 I shall take care to preserve a strain of the good 
 
AUGUST 149 
 
 old-fashioned kinds, even if they are inferior in 
 size to the new. 
 
 A ug. 1 8. I have cut for winter bouquets clouds 
 of the delicate white gypsophila paniculata, statice 
 latifolia, eryngium Oliverianum, and planum, and 
 the blue spiked balls of echinops ritro. The iris 
 fcetida and the physalis are not quite ready, and 
 must be cut in September. A good mixed bunch 
 of these, arranged with trails of small ivy, looks 
 very well in a dark corner of the drawing-room 
 in winter, and economises other flowers. All these 
 are dried by being hung upside down in an airy 
 place for a few days, after which the dead leaves 
 are stripped off to make the stems tidy, and the 
 branches are stowed away, to be brought out again 
 when live flowers are scarce. 
 
 The beauty of gardens at this season depends so 
 much on half-hardy plants that as I have so few 
 of these a certain bareness is apt to show itself 
 about August. There is but little room in this 
 garden for dahlias, cannas, gladioli, pelargoniums, 
 and other tender stuff; besides which the care of 
 many of these in winter would entirely prevent 
 Sterculus from paying proper attention to the plants 
 which bloom at that time, and would, in fact, 
 occupy our small greenhouse to their exclusion. 
 Some friends of mine with two or three excellent 
 glass-houses never muster a bloom for their living- 
 rooms at mid-winter, because the houses are given 
 over entirely to bedding plants. This is utterly 
 wrong in principle. There are many flowers with 
 which to fill summer beds without depriving our- 
 selves of the use of greenhouses for their proper 
 
150 AUGUST 
 
 purpose the providing of flowers at a season when 
 they are not to be had out of doors. If one can 
 do everything hardy and tender plants and green- 
 house plants proper well and good. But if the 
 greenhouse room is limited let me beg amateurs 
 to throw away all the tender garden stuff which 
 litters its shelves. The keeping of cuttings for 
 summer bedding is a costly and ugly practice which, 
 in such circumstances, should be put a stop to at 
 once. Begonias for bedding can be preserved 
 under the stages ; dahlias will live through the 
 winter in a warm cellar, cannas and gladioli may be 
 hidden away in odd holes and corners. But pelar- 
 goniums and heliotropes, and a dozen other subjects 
 which gardeners love to keep throughout the winter, 
 should be got rid of without delay unless there 
 is room for them and for the winter-blooming 
 flowers too, which is seldom the case in the 
 amateur's greenhouse. Better a little bareness in 
 August, when, at least, the borders still supply 
 large quantities of flowers for cutting, than a dearth 
 of bloom in December, when it is more valuable 
 than at any other time. 
 
 In looking forward to winter's needs the first 
 bulbs which demand potting are the freesias. If 
 these have been properly attended to since their 
 last blooming, the old bulbs will be as good as any 
 new ones could be. We plant the first during the 
 last week of July, and those for a succession at this 
 time ; about a dozen will go into a six-inch pot, and 
 it is better not to plunge them, as is generally 
 advisable with bulbs, for the leaf growth is so 
 tender that it will hardly bear freeing from the 
 
AUGUST 151 
 
 material under which it may have been placed. 
 They can be put in a cold frame in a shady aspect, 
 or under the greenhouse stage, and should be given 
 no more water than is absolutely necessary to keep 
 them from drying up. If the soil has had a 
 moderate amount of moisture in it when they were 
 planted they will need little additional attention 
 in this respect. It is through mistaken kind- 
 ness in the matter of watering that most of the 
 many failures to grow freesias occur ; too much 
 water at a later stage of growth will make the 
 leaves turn yellow and prevent their flowering 
 well. The less freesias are forced also, the better 
 they will be ; a cool temperature with protection 
 from frost is all that is required to ensure good 
 results. 
 
 There is nothing more difficult among common 
 flowers to grow well than the Persian cyclamen, 
 and I am able to say so with decision, for I have 
 never yet succeeded in having them to my liking. 
 Part of the reason is that I am away in the late 
 summer, when they require special attention, and 
 another part is that I do not really understand 
 them. Of course I can get pots of healthy leaves 
 and a sprinkling of flowers, but that is what I do 
 not care for. I want two hundred blossoms to 
 a pot, and I can't get them. And yet my plants 
 appear to be managed under suitable conditions, 
 so that it is difficult to understand why my simple 
 wants cannot be gratified. We re-pot them in 
 August, giving them a suitable compost with a dash 
 of soot in it. The plants are placed in cold frames, 
 and are carefully protected from chills, while they 
 
152 AUGUST 
 
 are given all the air that is compatible with perfect 
 safety. They are dewed over with a fine rose 
 every day, and watered as often as they require 
 attention, being plunged in basins of water at a 
 later stage when the pots are full of roots. They 
 are kept free from insect pests, and their winter 
 temperature is as moderate as it ought to be, and 
 the result is complete failure because it is not the 
 best that can be had. As I watch Sterculus pot- 
 ting them up and talking as if he expected a fine 
 show a few months later, I feel a very hypocrite 
 as well as a monster of incapacity, for I know that 
 the results will be meagre and trivial compared 
 with those obtained by my friend whose plants 
 I described in April. 
 
 But though I know they will disappoint me, still 
 I am very kind to them, as well as to the other 
 winter things from which I expect much more com- 
 fort. All plants that are to bloom in the dark 
 days require care in the bright weather of August ; 
 if they are neglected now dearth will result later. 
 The retaining of chrysanthemum buds is as im- 
 portant as any other work, but the culture of this 
 flower is such a large subject that it would be of 
 little use to attempt to give instructions for it in this 
 book. There are several handbooks which tell 
 everything that is necessary, and the best among 
 them, so far as my experience goes, is that by Mr. 
 W. Wells, of Redhill, the well-known raiser of these 
 flowers. There are some plants which bloom best 
 from terminal buds, and others which give better 
 results from crown buds, and to distinguish between 
 these does not come within the scope of the 
 
AUGUST 153 
 
 ordinary garden book. But a few general remarks 
 about bud-retaining may not be amiss. 
 
 During the month of August the gardener will 
 see buds forming at the point of each shoot, and in 
 the case of crown buds all the surrounding shoots 
 must be got rid of if good blossoms are ex- 
 pected. But this rubbing away of superfluous 
 growth must be done with care ; to attempt it 
 directly the bud appears would be a process which 
 would weaken the growth of the flowers ; so both 
 bud and surrounding growth are allowed to make 
 a certain amount of progress until the former seems 
 to have a separate existence, when the unnecessary 
 shoots are gradually removed one to-day, one to- 
 morrow, and so on, thus avoiding a check to the 
 flower bud. We generally grow three stems to 
 a plant, and three shoots to each stem ; each shoot 
 develops a flower, and thus we get about nine 
 blossoms to a plant. Even with cuttings struck 
 in March these come a very respectable size, quite 
 large enough, at any rate, to satisfy the amateur 
 who is not intent on showing, for we can depend on 
 their measuring from five to nine inches in diameter, 
 which is as large as is required for cutting. 
 
 The sweet peas must not be allowed to pod, or 
 the bloom will come to a sudden stop presently ; 
 every withered flower is picked off before it can set 
 seeds, and thus blossoming is continued over a long 
 season. Lilium candidum may be transplanted if 
 it needs a change, for this is the best month to do 
 the work ; lilies hate root disturbance when once 
 they have thrown up their foliage in autumn. 
 
 Some gardeners are very successful with hardy 
 
154 AUGUST 
 
 annuals sown about the end of this month and 
 transplanted before the winter to beds prepared 
 for them. Autumn-sown annuals such as these 
 certainly blossom more strongly and profusely and 
 over a longer season than those reserved for spring 
 sowing, but, of course, the difficulty lies in tiding 
 them safely through the frosts of December and 
 January, which may destroy them utterly. I have 
 never made any serious attempt at this system, 
 though some of my best annuals in the mixed 
 borders come from autumn-sown seed of their own 
 distributing. I have also had plants of candytuft 
 which have bloomed throughout a summer and 
 survived the following winter, and have made 
 such hard wood through old age that their stems 
 resembled the rugged bark of a young maple 
 sapling. 
 
 Aug. /p. I am very fond of dog stories, and 
 always read with much interest those which appear 
 from time to time in the Spectator. I have more 
 than once sent dog stories of my own to the editor 
 of that paper, but he has never had the discern- 
 ment to print them. Jim was rude enough once 
 to suggest that they were too good even for the 
 Spectator, but they are true nevertheless. I 
 have only had two really human dogs who were 
 so absolutely of us that they did not even know 
 that they were dogs, or, if possibly they knew, 
 would not acknowledge the fact. One of these 
 was a mongrel fox-terrier named Joe, and so well 
 did he understand all our conversation that when 
 we did not wish him to know our plans we were 
 forced to speak in Spanish, for he was quite good 
 
AUGUST 
 
 55 
 
 at elementary French. If we spoke English the 
 matter was hopeless. 
 
 SMILING BY THE ROADSIDE 
 
 ' Where are you driving to-day ? " 
 
 14 1 am going to pay a call at Butterbridge." 
 
 <k Shall you take le petit chien ?" 
 
 By saying " le petit chien" instead of "the dog 
 
156 AUGUST 
 
 Jim would imagine that he was using all the neces- 
 sary wiles of dissimulation. 
 
 " No, they don't like dogs. I must leave him at 
 home." 
 
 An hour or so would go by, and our efforts to 
 find Joe would become exasperating ; so in despair 
 I would start to find le petit chien waiting for me a 
 mile away smiling by the roadside. He always 
 smiled when he had got the better of me, but I only 
 once heard him laugh aloud. On that occasion I 
 had taken him to the tennis-club ground, as I often 
 had done before without being reproved by the 
 secretary. But the next day was to witness the 
 beginning of the annual tournament, and the secre- 
 tary thought it his duty to deliver himself of a 
 warning concerning Joe. 
 
 " I'm afraid you mustn't bring Joe to-morrow," 
 he said the dog listening hard the while ; "there's 
 a fine of half a guinea on tournament days." 
 
 Of course I promised that he should not appear, 
 and presently when we came away I called him, 
 and he followed me as far as the gate like the most 
 obedient of dogs. But I saw him no more until the 
 next afternoon, when, on reaching the ground, we 
 were met at the gate by Joe, whose little neck was 
 craned out looking for us. He had hidden all 
 night in the pavilion, and the secretary had not 
 had the heart in the morning to dislodge him. 
 
 He was, generally speaking, an admirably be- 
 haved little dog, but on one occasion he gave vent 
 to a spirit of revenge quite human in its wickedness. 
 He went with us to stay with an aunt, and one 
 morning when we had promised him a walk, she, 
 
AUGUST 
 
 157 
 
 for some good reason, thought it best that he should 
 not accompany us, and shut him up with herself in 
 the drawing-room. When his rage had apparently 
 abated she let him out of the room, thinking that 
 
 A CAP IN SHREDS 
 
 all would now be right. Little did she know Joe. 
 He went straight up to her bedroom, mounted a 
 chair to reach the toilet table, and presently brought 
 her best cap downstairs, laying it at her feet in 
 shreds. 
 
 His end was sad. One unhappy day he followed 
 
158 AUGUST 
 
 Jim when he was going for a few hours to Oxford, 
 jumping into the train with him just as it was on 
 the point of starting. He was lost in the High 
 Street, evidently through following the wrong cab. 
 He would be twenty-two years old if he were still 
 alive, but I have never ceased to miss him, and 
 none of my many other dogs have taken his place 
 in my affections. 
 
 Aug. jo. There are days when one wakes up 
 with the mind "oppressed," as it seems, "with the 
 burden of an unintelligible world." Very often this 
 comes from a kind of unconscious prescience of evil, 
 such as a visit from the rate-collector or some other 
 uncomfortable person. To-day, for instance, I have 
 been haunted by such an unaccountable woe, and 
 not until evening was it explained by a call from 
 the Converted Camberwell Cadger. I came upon 
 him unexpectedly as I was going out into the 
 garden, so there was no escaping my fate. I could 
 hardly say "Not at home" to a Camberwell Cadger 
 who was staring me actually in the face. Words 
 cannot describe how for twelve long months I have 
 dreaded this meeting. The consciousness of guilt 
 has weighed me down until at times life has not 
 seemed worth living while I had so pitiful a secret 
 locked up in my bosom. But now that I have 
 broken the silence in part to my diary, I will go on 
 and reveal the whole sad story, in the hope that 
 with confession peace may once more come back 
 to me. 
 
 It was just a year ago that I was bicycling back 
 from a garden-party when, on our village green, I 
 came upon a temperance van, from which the 
 
AUGUST 159 
 
 Camberwell Cadger was holding forth in im- 
 passioned Cocknese. A good many rustics were 
 gathered round him, and I have certainly never 
 heard a more moving orator than this dirty little 
 man who shouted his gospel of virtue at a spell- 
 
 A MOVING ORATOR 
 
 bound audience. I can't deny that some of his 
 arguments went home to me too ; for instance, 
 when he talked with a leer in the tail of his eye 
 of those whose education and position should make 
 them show a good example to their ignorant 
 brothers and sisters ; of those whose self-indulgent 
 habits would not allow them to deny themselves, to 
 
160 AUGUST 
 
 help weaker vessels to get to the surface when he 
 said these things with desperate intent to secure my 
 help in his mission, I must say I felt rather guilty. 
 He was terribly in earnest, and one of the worst of 
 the village topers was hovering round his rickety 
 ladder, uncertain whether to sign or not to sign. 
 Well it did not seem a great hardship to give up 
 my daily small allowance of wine, so in the end I 
 went up those steps and signed the pledge, the 
 village toper following in my footsteps. 
 
 I went home with a slight feeling of shame mixed 
 with a certain amount of satisfaction in my virtue. 
 When I broke the news to Jim he gave way to 
 unusual laughter and called me names. He said 
 we had been wanting in village idiots since Aunty 
 Green died, but that her place was filled at last 
 with the real article. I watched him drinking his 
 claret with much affected gusto, and thought it very 
 hateful of him that he did not offer to give up his 
 glass now that I had given up mine. The Cadger 
 had called it "giving up the glass," and it seemed 
 to me that Jim was acting selfishly in sticking 
 to his. The next day at dinner-time he told me 
 that he had just seen Bill Reynolds (the converted 
 toper who had signed the pledge with me) reeling 
 home from the village inn. 
 
 Things went on like this for nearly a month. I 
 could not eat my meals without the modest glass of 
 claret to which I had been accustomed, and when 
 they were finished I was uneasy. I used to think 
 of the Eton boy who complained that his cold 
 chicken "got in front and hurt." Every day I 
 watched Jim as he filled his glass, and every day I 
 
AUGUST 161 
 
 came nearer to thinking that I was indeed qualified 
 to fill the place of Aunty Green. Sometimes I 
 even wept a little, but ''all tears are not for sorrow." 
 Then at last came the doctor, and I was restored to 
 my vicious, comfortable habits by medical order. 
 
 I must confess that to-day, when I found that 
 the Camberwell Cadger was on the doorstep, and 
 remembered in one vivid moment the tale of back- 
 sliding which he would have to hear, I murmured 
 that he would like to see Mr. Clifford, and ushered 
 him quickly into Jim's study with a long face, in 
 which I knew his quick eye would read pleading 
 and then I fled. Jim understood, as he always 
 understands ; and ten minutes later I saw the 
 Cadger depart with a jaunty step and a chinking of 
 the pocket, and I knew that the cause at any rate 
 was a gainer by my fall. " The gods sell all things 
 at a price " ; the price in this instance was my 
 priceless self-respect, the want of which impels me 
 to flee to the garden's deepest recesses at the very 
 name of the Camberwell Cadger. 
 
 M 
 
SEPTEMBER 
 
 Sept. r I ^ H E first work of September is the pro- 
 7 - JL pagating of roses from cuttings. Those 
 bushes which the salesmen supply are usually 
 worked on a foreign stock, which enables them 
 to make a larger growth than own-root plants could 
 do in a given time ; and the nuisance never abates 
 of keeping an eye on the stock to prevent the 
 rising of wild wood. But roses on their own 
 roots, though they take a year or so longer than 
 the others to make good plants, never afterwards 
 give any trouble, and it is well worth while either 
 to pay extra money for these or to propagate them 
 for one's self. There is no comparison between the 
 two methods for lasting results. If a hard winter 
 kills to the ground the roses struck from cuttings, 
 their root growth will ensure their sending up in 
 the spring fresh shoots to take their place, instead 
 of the shoots of the parent brier. The rose struck 
 from the cutting is naturally balanced in proper 
 proportion ; its root growth keeps pace with its top 
 growth. There is no great show of the latter to 
 the weakening of the former, for the accession of 
 strength in both is gradual and rightly balanced 
 and equally progressive. The period of waiting 
 
 162 
 
SEPTEMBER 163 
 
 for results is the period of development of the 
 plant in one respect as in another, without any 
 suffering at the root to make the top showy. 
 
 The wood chosen for striking should be that 
 of the current season, and of early growth, so that 
 it shall be perfectly firm without being old. The 
 cuttings may range in length from four to eight 
 inches, with one eye or perhaps two to show above 
 the ground when planted. The land must be well 
 dug and properly firmed again, and plenty of sharp 
 sand should be incorporated with it. A trench 
 should be made of the right depth to receive the 
 cuttings, and these should be laid at a distance of 
 three or four inches apart ; a second row about six 
 inches from the first, and so on until all are planted. 
 The following winter they may be protected by 
 a covering of natural material, such as leaves, and 
 the next summer they must be stopped when they 
 require it, and not allowed to flower, so that in 
 twelve months from the time of striking they will 
 be fair plants on their own roots, and ready for 
 planting, if necessary, in their permanent beds. 
 They will not be full grown for two or three years 
 to come, but the time of waiting will be one of 
 progress, and the ultimate results will be of the 
 best. 
 
 This is the most suitable month for taking cut- 
 tings of many other plants besides roses, and 
 although I have not much to do in that respect, 
 there is always a certain amount which requires 
 attention. I have never grown the larger kinds of 
 calceolaria, but the common yellow one seems to be 
 a necessity as well as a perennial source of anxiety 
 
1 64 SEPTEMBER 
 
 to many of my gardening friends. The cuttings 
 taken in September or October are, as a rule, 
 planted in a cold frame and left to themselves to live 
 or to die according as the winter is mild or severe. 
 In May those that remain are bedded out behind 
 geraniums, and are shortly after seen to wither 
 away, scorched by the summer sun or parched from 
 lack of moisture. There is only one remedy, and 
 that is shade. Calceolarias like shade, and whether 
 in cold frames or in the border do better if partially 
 protected from the sun, which robs their root fibres 
 of that moisture which is vital to the growth of the 
 tender foliage. No doubt the cuttings must be 
 kept free from too much moisture during their 
 winter sojourn in the frame, or they will damp off; 
 but when once started into growth in the sheltered 
 border they will thrive the better the cooler their 
 position is. It is wise to take cuttings in the early 
 weeks of September to give them time to strike 
 freely and make sufficient growth to enable them 
 to withstand hard weather. When this comes they 
 should be covered up close under a heap of straw 
 or fern or mats, being given ventilation as the 
 weather permits ; and when the days get longer, 
 and spring has set in, they should be well watered 
 when they require it, and allowed plenty of air 
 during the day. When planting time comes they 
 must be moved with a ball of earth round them 
 as big as a fist and planted in wet holes, the earth 
 being afterwards rammed well round the roots. If 
 the moving is done by the middle of May, which 
 is by no means too early in a southern garden, and 
 if they are kept sheltered from sun and frost until 
 
SEPTEMBER 165 
 
 they are established, the results will be all that is 
 possible, taking into consideration the fact that they 
 are merely calceolarias. 
 
 The hybrid pentstemons and various other plants 
 may also be treated in this way. In the case of 
 pentstemons the old plants will sometimes withstand 
 the winter, and make large clumps the following 
 year ; but almost as often as not they die, and 
 young plants must be ready to replace them. 
 There are few things better in a garden than 
 these pentstemons ; their colour is excellent, their 
 habit admirable, and their blooming persistent. 
 By removing the seed-pods as they form, a good 
 show can be had from July to November. 
 
 Petunia tries my patience more every year that 
 she grows older. How old is she now ? Certainly 
 not under six-and-twenty, and yet she has not 
 learnt common propriety. To-day she turned up 
 at luncheon-time with a young man on whom I 
 had never before set eyes, she blushing up to her 
 hair and he looking as hideously miserable as any 
 lover could look. Of course I was delighted to 
 see him, for I guessed at once who he was, and 
 as Petunia seemed smitten with dumbness on her 
 entrance, and delayed to introduce her friend, I 
 could do no less than give him a welcome without 
 her aid. I smiled my sweetest smile as a young 
 gentleman of my acquaintance with a cavernous 
 mouth is fond of saying and murmured, with a 
 friendly hand outstretched 
 
 u How do you do? I am sure you must be 
 Mr. Mumby!" 
 
 Petunia's colour had been vivid enough before, 
 
1 66 SEPTEMBER 
 
 but now it became of a full sunset copper hue. 
 She said very stiffly, " I thought you knew my 
 cousin, Mr. Jervis," and I tried to beam a second 
 welcome no less hearty than the first while wrath 
 was at my heart. No one but Petunia would have 
 placed me in so awkward a predicament, and the 
 unreasonable creature presently blamed me for the 
 terrible moment instead of confessing that it had 
 been of her own making. 
 
 o 
 
 Petunia professes that here at last is the real 
 Mr. Mumby, and has the incredible hypocrisy to 
 try to persuade me that there has never really 
 been any other. I do not profess to follow the 
 tortuous windings of her love affairs as clearly as 
 might be desired, but I do maintain that I could 
 not possibly have got the name of Mumby down 
 in my mental notes unless there had been some 
 reason for it. However, she was not to be 
 appeased to-day by my efforts at self-justification, 
 although I did my best to make things pleasant 
 by assuring her that Jervis was a much prettier 
 name than Mumby, and that she was quite right 
 to change her mind if only for this reason. She 
 kissed me very coldly when she wished me good- 
 bye, and said she was afraid she should not be 
 able to come again for some time, which might 
 have been distressing, for I am genuinely fond of 
 Petunia. But there is a good deal to do in the 
 garden, and the days are shortening already, so 
 that possibly 'tis best so. 
 
 How exceedingly tiresome are people who ought 
 to fall in love, and will not. And how worse than 
 tiresome are those who fall in love with persons 
 
MY COUSIN, MR. JERVIS " 
 
SEPTEMBER 169 
 
 who have not the remotest intention of falling in 
 love with them. Here is an example. Magdalen 
 loves Jim, who cares not for her, nor, like Rosalind, 
 for any woman. Petunia loves Mr. Mumby (or 
 some one of whom Mr. Mumby may stand as a 
 type), who, so far as I am able to judge, has never 
 bestowed a thought upon Petunia. If Jim would 
 love Petunia, who is craving for affection, all 
 would be well. Of course I would rather he 
 loved Magdalen, but that does not seem a likely 
 consummation, and as a second best I choose 
 Petunia. As things stand at present, then, Mr. 
 Mumby does not love Petunia, who in his default 
 would quite willingly put up with the affection of 
 Jim, who cares no jot for Magdalen who adores 
 him. I believe there was a certain French philo- 
 sopher who discovered that it takes three to make 
 a pair of lovers " Us ont bien tort qui disent qu'il 
 ne faut que deux pour faire 1'amour ; il faut au 
 moins trois." I should be inclined to go further, 
 and to declare that it takes four to spoil two good 
 matches. And so life in its contrariety goes on. 
 
 Magdalen comes here and looks through Jim, as 
 if he was merely a rather boring feature in the 
 landscape. Jim goes to the Manor, and half the 
 time he is there he literally does not know whether 
 Magdalen is present or not. That, at least, is the 
 impression left upon me as an observer of my 
 fellow-men, and so far as Jim's unconsciousness 
 is concerned, I am convinced that I am not in 
 error. Magdalen's attitude is, of course, a pose, 
 simply because she is a woman, and posing is her 
 safety. A man who has feelings to hide can take 
 
1 70 SEPTEMBER 
 
 refuge in silence, but so cannot a woman. Silence 
 is self-betrayal, and a pose is her haven of refuge. 
 Jim's silence cannot be interpreted, because he has 
 a taciturn habit and would be equally silent whether 
 he had anything to conceal or no. Magdalen's 
 silence would mean much. But even a woman's 
 pose is no rampart against another woman, though 
 impregnable to a man, so that in any event 
 Magdalen has little chance of hiding herself from 
 me. But as I am only an onlooker I do not 
 count. 
 
 The time may come when a man will understand 
 a woman so well that it will not be worth her while 
 to pose for him. But so long as the economic con- 
 dition of woman is as it is, so long will it be detri- 
 mental to her to be understood. She has more to 
 gain by remaining a mystery. The day of perfect 
 equality for the sexes in economic matters is as yet 
 dim aeonian periods away, and perfect freedom can 
 come only with perfect equality. With freedom 
 truth and sincerity will display themselves without 
 fear of shame or detriment. But that happy time 
 will probably never arrive to woman on our planet, 
 and in the meanwhile Magdalen in common with 
 the rest of her sex poses. 
 
 If only she would show Jim that she cares one 
 jot about him, it might suggest to him the possi- 
 bility of his caring for her. He is merely stupid, 
 a fault not his own, but of his sex. 
 
 Sept. j. Hardy bulbs are the mainstay and the 
 joy of the winter gardener. They are, speaking 
 generally, certain bloomers, and they are almost 
 independent of favourable conditions. Even a few 
 
SEPTEMBER 171 
 
 degrees of frost will leave them unharmed. All 
 they ask is that their treatment shall be reasonably 
 careful, and I will give as shortly as possible the 
 rules I have found most convenient for potting and 
 flowering these valuable things under glass. 
 
 There are many persons of limited means and 
 many also of large means who grudge the money 
 necessary for bulbs more than they grudge any 
 other garden expenditure. Bulbs are considered 
 an extravagance, and a gardener who spends a 
 sovereign or two on them is a wastrel in the last 
 degree. This feeling must be a survival of the 
 days not long departed when bulbs were a costly 
 luxury. This is not so now. Many beautiful things 
 can be had at a farthing apiece, or even less, and 
 I have bought good flowering bulbs of the lovely 
 daffodil Cynosure at exactly half that price. The 
 sooner the idea is abandoned that hardy bulbs in 
 the greenhouse are not for the ordinary grower the 
 better. There is nothing else in cultivation so suit- 
 able for the amateur in every respect, and for the 
 months of January and February they are indis- 
 pensable. There is nothing that can take their 
 place, although there are many things that may be 
 grown in addition to them. I am speaking to the 
 amateur who loves his garden, but has to be careful 
 in his expenditure, when I put forward regarding 
 this expenditure a word of advice. Reckon up 
 what yearly sum you spend or are prepared to 
 spend on your flower garden, whether in plants or 
 in seeds, and then let three-quarters of that sum be 
 laid out in bulbs for the greenhouse. If the garden 
 without is of the herbaceous order very few plants 
 
i;2 SEPTEMBER 
 
 should be required to keep up the stock ; a few 
 packets of seeds in the spring will do what is abso- 
 lutely needed, and the bulbs which come out of the 
 greenhouse in March will, if turned into the ground, 
 form a future provision for the open-air supply. 
 No others need be bought for this purpose, for in 
 a few years' time the greenhouse will have yielded 
 up as many as are wanted for the garden. If a 
 five-pound note therefore is to be devoted to the 
 supply of flowers, let two-thirds of this amount be 
 spent on bulbs ; if only a guinea is available, quite 
 fifteen shillings should be devoted to their purchase, 
 a few pence to a packet of primula seed, and a few 
 more pence to cineraria seed. I am taking it for 
 granted that the garden is fairly well stocked 
 already, and that the greenhouse possesses such 
 necessary plants as zonal pelargoniums, cyclamens, 
 chrysanthemums, calla Richardias, and other peren- 
 nial things. 
 
 The potting soil for bulbs should not be heavy. 
 If any directions are wanted for proportions, the 
 following is a good average rule : Take one part 
 good leaf soil, one part well-rotted manure from an 
 old hot-bed, one part coarse sand, and one part turf 
 mould that has been cut from a meadow at least 
 a year previously. But bulbs are generous doers, 
 and if only their soil is not too heavy they will be 
 likely to thrive well, even if their results are not fit 
 for the show table. 
 
 Easily first among bulbs for the greenhouse come 
 the white Roman hyacinths. They are not so cheap 
 as they ought to be, but they are nevertheless indis- 
 pensable. They can be potted in September, and 
 
SEPTEMBER 173 
 
 these and all the hardy bulbs now to be mentioned 
 must be plunged under a suitable covering in their 
 earliest stage. I prefer peat from a heathy wood, 
 sifted to get rid of the coarse pieces, but sand will 
 do quite as well. Ashes should not be used, as 
 they sometimes give out poisonous gases which 
 spoil the bulbs. The boxes or pots may be placed 
 close together in the open, and then covered with at 
 least four inches of the plunging material. 
 
 If the amateur has only a dozen Roman hyacinths 
 they may be planted in three five-inch pots, and 
 treated as follows : When they have been plunged 
 for five or six weeks they should be examined to 
 see if they have rooted, and if the roots are getting 
 fairly strong the pots may be put in a cold frame 
 for two or three more weeks. Where so few are 
 grown there is no object in having them too early, 
 and they will be all the better for being kept out of 
 the greenhouse for a little time, unless the weather 
 is cold. They can be removed to the stage and 
 brought on for any date that they may be wanted. 
 The gardener, on the other hand, who has a 
 hundred or more may plant, perhaps, thirty or 
 fifty closely together in a box, moving them to 
 the greenhouse when rooted, and they will bloom 
 in November. The rest can be potted or boxed as 
 required, and a succession thus ensured. But they 
 will not consent to be kept back so long as one 
 could wish, and for late January and February 
 one can have the white or blue Italians, both of 
 which are very beautiful, though not quite so 
 early as the Romans. At the same time as these 
 hyacinths may be potted or boxed the paper white 
 
174 SEPTEMBER 
 
 and the double Roman narcissi, and their treatment 
 may be identical with that of the others. They 
 take rather longer than the hyacinths in coming 
 to their flowering time. The gardener need not 
 be afraid to plant closely if economy of space is 
 an object. The bulbs may touch each other, and 
 will take no harm, provided that they get sufficient 
 water after they are removed from the plunge. 
 A sprinkling once or twice of Clay's or some other 
 fertiliser when they begin to show bud will correct 
 any evils which close planting may have appeared 
 to threaten. 
 
 The above-named bulbs, if potted early and 
 grown on in a warm greenhouse, but not placed 
 over a stove, may be relied on for bloom from 
 the end of November to mid-January, after which 
 date other later kinds must, for the main supply, 
 take their place. The chief points to ensure 
 success are a sufficiently protracted plunge in the 
 open, to encourage root-growth before top-growth 
 begins, an ample supply of water, and a comfortably 
 warmed greenhouse. 
 
 The next bulbs to think of are the Harris lilies, 
 from which many people fail to get satisfactory 
 blooms. Sometimes the bulbs refuse to start into 
 life, and sometimes they rot and disappear before 
 they can attain any growth worth considering. Yet 
 they are by no means difficult to grow if one goes 
 the right way to work with them. They should 
 be potted as soon as they come, in five-inch or six- 
 inch pots, and taken under cover when top-growth 
 begins. If they shrivel before potting they lose 
 something of their vigour. To allow for top-dressing 
 
SEPTEMBER 175 
 
 in their later stages the soil should be no nearer 
 than an inch to the top of the pot, and the crown 
 of the bulb may be about the same distance below 
 the surface of the soil, which should have plenty 
 of sand in it, and if convenient some leaf mould 
 also. Those bulbs which are the strongest will 
 generally be the first to start, and the weaker 
 ones will be later, so that, broadly speaking, their 
 value for the future may be gauged by their willing- 
 ness to shoot. When top-growth has begun they 
 must have plenty of light, and should be kept close 
 to the glass, or they will become uncomfortably 
 tall. As they get to maturity they will be attacked 
 by aphis, but the horror of this and other insect 
 pests departed with the invention of the X-L All 
 fumigator. There need not be so much as a spider 
 in the greenhouse in these happy days. 
 
 It is no use to grudge the spending of money 
 over Harris lilies ; the most expensive must be 
 bought, for good ones cannot be had cheap. The 
 best I ever saw were grown in an amateur's green- 
 house of the very smallest dimensions ; they bore 
 from ten to thirteen blooms on a stem, and the 
 happy grower of them had given carte blanche to 
 Messrs. Protheroe and Morris to send him from 
 their auction-rooms the finest bulbs that could be 
 had, irrespective of price. Harris lilies will bear 
 a considerable amount of forcing if required, but 
 the ordinary gardener will flower them in March 
 and April. 
 
 The bulk of winter bulbs may be planted either 
 in September or in October, as best suits the 
 gardener. I think the wisest plan is to get them 
 
1 76 SEPTEMBER 
 
 all in early, and keep them plunged in the open 
 as long as possible. This secures sufficient root 
 growth before the frosts begin, and the flowers are 
 likely to come all the better for the slower growing. 
 In any case these later bulbs require a much longer 
 time in the dark than the earlier ones, and three 
 months is hardly too long for them, though it may 
 be too long for the gardener's patience. A little 
 care will keep up a succession from mid- January to 
 mid- March without any special difficulty. Some of 
 these later bulbs are, like all the earlier, absolutely 
 essential to the well-being of the flower-lover, and 
 however little there may be to spend, a few of them 
 must be bought as well as those I have already enu- 
 merated. Afterwards I will mention others which 
 give a distinct joy to existence, but which neverthe- 
 less may be dispensed with if strict economy is 
 necessary. 
 
 A flat earthen seed-pan about a foot in diameter 
 will comfortably hold twenty-five crocus bulbs, of 
 which Mont Blanc or the common yellow will give 
 as much satisfaction as any costlier sorts. 
 
 Tulips for early bloom should be the scarlet Due 
 Van Tholl, and for succession nothing is better 
 than double Tournesol, single yellow Chrysolora, 
 and the white La Reine with a pink flake. I have 
 often bought these for eighteenpence the hundred, 
 but there has been so much demand for them of 
 late for forcing that the price has gone up. Rose 
 Blanche, double white, and Yellow Rose, double 
 yellow, will follow the mid-season kinds. Let not 
 the bulb grower be persuaded to buy La Candeur 
 in place of Rose Blanche, for the green and 
 
SEPrEMBER 177 
 
 shrivelled outer petals of the older variety make it 
 compare very unfavourably with its rival. 
 
 And now an important hint with regard to tulips 
 raised under glass. Everyone who grows them has 
 stamped with rage to see their beautiful blossoms 
 withering away while yet hidden by the leaves. 
 Tulips do not like this unnatural method of grow- 
 ing in greenhouses, and they turn sulky in 
 consequence. But if, when taken from the plunge, 
 they are placed in a subdued light under the stage 
 till they begin to grow lanky, their mischievous 
 habit will be thwarted, and the gardener will 
 rejoice. 
 
 Scilla sibirica may be grown like the crocuses, 
 closely planted in a seed-pan, but many more squills 
 than crocuses will be required to make a good show, 
 as the bulbs are smaller. These lovely little true- 
 blue things continue to throw up spike after spike 
 of bloom, so that, although there may be no great 
 show at any one time, the pan will be decorative 
 for weeks. Some bright green wood moss may 
 carpet it, but the best use of these flowers will be 
 indicated in a subsequent paragraph. 
 
 I have kept to the last the list of narcissi, these 
 joys of mid-winter, which please me both indoors 
 and out better than any other hardy bulbs. It is 
 very important to make a good selection of them. 
 The polyanthus narcissus, which are the least 
 charming, cannot be dispensed with any more than 
 the others. Some of the finest, though not the 
 best from my point of view, are Bazelman Major 
 and Grand Monarque, but the former is an un- 
 certain bloomer, and the latter shares with it, 
 
 N 
 
1 78 SEPTEMBER 
 
 though in another way, the disadvantage of sparse 
 flowering. It throws only one stem of flowers 
 from each bulb, so that it is far more satisfactory 
 to buy Mont Cenis, which, if a somewhat smaller 
 flower, is better in habit, and three or four times as 
 floriferous. Sweet-scented jonquils must not be 
 over forced ; if placed in a hot place they go blind. 
 Obvallaris, the Tenby daffodil, is an early kind, and 
 to follow it I should choose of singles, poeticus 
 ornat^ls, the early form of the pheasant's eye ; 
 Leedsii amabilis^ a lovely cream and primrose 
 flower ; incomparabilis Cynosure with pale perianth 
 and bright orange-stained cup. Of doubles, the 
 yellow incomparabilis, or the Van Sion, and the 
 delightful old Orange Phoenix, known as Eggs and 
 Bacon, are the handsomest of all. 
 
 A dozen of each of the hyacinths, narcissi, and 
 tulips above mentioned, with twenty-five crocuses, 
 the same number of squills, and three or four lilies, 
 can be bought for a guinea, provided the buyer 
 takes care to avoid the most expensive dealers. 
 Thus about two hundred and fifty bulbs would 
 be available as a moderate provision for winter 
 needs. 
 
 But although the varieties and the numbers 
 above given will suffice for the grower who cannot 
 afford a little extravagance for his winter green- 
 house, there are many other lovely things which 
 must be added to the list by those who can indulge 
 in a larger expenditure. 
 
 My readers will have thought me guilty of a 
 curious omission in regard to Dutch hyacinths, but 
 the fact is that when the outlay is limited it is 
 
SEPTEMBER 179 
 
 better to ignore these altogether. The money 
 spent in buying a dozen of them would buy a 
 hundred or a hundred and fifty tulips or narcissi, 
 which are not only incomparably cheaper, but 
 infinitely more satisfying to the properly cultivated 
 eye. If, however, hyacinths are essential to the 
 well-being of the amateur gardener, let me re- 
 commend the purchase of what are called children's 
 miniature hyacinths. The nearer the flower ap- 
 proaches to the standard of perfection necessary 
 to success at the show table, the more it must 
 offend the taste of the lover of the graceful. 
 These miniatures, on the contrary, though they 
 may transgress every canon laid down by the 
 judges, approach nearer than the others to the 
 grace and charm of the Roman hyacinths ; they 
 can be bought at a good deal less than half the 
 price of the ordinary bulbs, though there are very 
 few dealers who catalogue them. Messrs. Barr, 
 however, do so, and from them they can be 
 obtained at a very moderate price. 
 
 It is difficult to go wrong with the narcissus. In 
 the ordinary warm greenhouse most of them can 
 be grown to perfection, as its conditions are exactly 
 what suits them best. Very few of them will bear 
 forcing in the strict use of the term, but fortunately 
 nearly all will flourish under glass if properly 
 treated. The only two that I have failed with are 
 the double poeticus and the double sulphur Phcenix, 
 and I think that even with these the difficulty 
 could be easily overcome if they were boxed early 
 and given cold-frame treatment until the buds 
 appear, after they are taken from the plunge. But 
 
i8o SEPTEMBER 
 
 my space is so limited that I cannot afford to give 
 up any of it to doubtful bloomers. 
 
 I do not admire the shape of the Leedsii section 
 so much as those which have a broader perianth, 
 but there is a great charm in them all. Mrs. 
 Langtry is a particularly beautiful specimen, and 
 its creamy cup and perianth are striking even when 
 associated with others far more showy. In the 
 Barrii section Conspicuus is my favourite of the 
 less expensive varieties, and in the Incomparabilis 
 section there are few more beautiful than Figaro. 
 There is a great family likeness between Cynosure, 
 Figaro, and Conspicuus ; all have the orange- 
 stained cup, but the perianth of Conspicuus is far 
 more substantial and the petals are broader than 
 in the cheaper ones. In point of colouring one is 
 as beautiful as another. Johnstoni Queen of Spain 
 is well worth growing for its graceful, uncommon 
 shape and uniform soft yellow shade of colour. 
 Bulbocodium or Hoop Petticoat is another un- 
 common form, very quaint and pleasing, though 
 not striking, on account of its diminutive size. 
 Emperor, of course, is very fine in the Trumpet 
 section, and Golden Spur is equally handsome. 
 Among bicolours I like as well as any the one 
 known as Horsefieldii. In fact, as I said before, 
 it is difficult to go wrong with narcissi ; they are 
 beautiful, and nearly all good doers in the hands 
 of the amateur gardener. 
 
 Of tulips, Mon Tresor is a good yellow for pot 
 work, Dusant a fine red, Cottage Maid a pretty 
 pink and white. Joost van Vondel is a good white, 
 as is also Pottebakker. Tulips require very little 
 
SEPTEMBER 181 
 
 drainage at the bottom of the pot, and they de- 
 mand a plentiful and regular supply of water. 
 
 Snowdrops should have cold-frame treatment, 
 if weather permits, till they are at the point of 
 flowering. They do not appreciate the comforts 
 of a warm greenhouse. Triteleia uniflora is a 
 pretty little thing for pot culture, but where space 
 is limited is not striking enough to take up room 
 that would be given to more showy things. The 
 white allium is always useful for cutting, and does 
 well in pots, as do also the muscaris. There are 
 many other bulbous plants which are valuable 
 for winter culture, but at the same time not so 
 valuable as to be actually essential. 
 
 And now as to the proper use of all these 
 bulbous things when they come to a flowering 
 stage. My fixed idea as regards flowers in general 
 is that one wants them to live with ; flowers that 
 are in the greenhouse when I am in the drawing- 
 room are of no use to me. I want them dozens 
 of them, hundreds of them in my living-rooms. 
 All through the winter I want to cram into 
 my rooms as many as they will hold, and to 
 have a few besides to send away to flower-loving 
 friends. The best way to have them is perhaps 
 in their pots as they are grown, provided that the 
 pots are well filled and that all the flowers bloom 
 simultaneously. But this is rarely the case, and, 
 besides, most of my bulbs are grown in rough 
 boxes in large quantities. There may be a dozen 
 Roman hyacinths just coming to perfection, and 
 twice as many hardly showing colour. With a tiny 
 prong we dig up those that are just coming to full 
 
1 82 SEPTEMBER 
 
 expansion, taking care to bring away as much root- 
 fibre as possible* and not to disturb more than can 
 be avoided those that are left in the box. The roots 
 may be washed in lukewarm water and the bulbs 
 replanted in clean sand in an ornamental pot. 
 Then the pot should be filled up with water, the 
 bulbs covered with clean green moss, and the result 
 is perfection. If they require staking, three or 
 four very thin green sticks are inserted near the 
 middle of the clump, and each stem is tied back 
 to its nearest stick with fine light green flax thread, 
 care being taken that the sticks are not so high as 
 the foliage. All the hardy bulbs which I have 
 mentioned may be treated in this way. The effect 
 of a large beau-pot, a foot or more in diameter, 
 nearly filled with white Italian hyacinths, and then 
 bordered with blue squills, is delightful, and an 
 equally good effect can be had with yellow crocuses 
 and white tulips, or in a dozen other different 
 combinations. But the larger the bowl the more 
 beautiful is the display. I have a rather shallow 
 blue one, about eighteen inches across, which is 
 unimaginably pretty when well planted. As the 
 stems get long and drawn the sprays are picked 
 for vases, and another potting-up ensues. And 
 so the bulb season goes on. 
 
 A word must be said about the care of bulbs 
 when they have finished flowering, Freesias must 
 be kept in the greenhouse and receive their accus- 
 tomed supply of water until the foliage begins to 
 turn yellow. Then the water may be gradually 
 discontinued, and when the leaves are dead the 
 pots should be placed close to the glass, in the 
 
SEPTEMBER 183 
 
 sunniest part of the greenhouse, and there left with 
 no attention whatever until potting time comes again. 
 Unless they have this thorough baking the bulbs 
 will not mature properly, and bloom next season 
 will be sparse. 
 
 All the other bulbs may be turned into a cold 
 frame, whether in or out of their boxes, care being 
 taken in the latter case that there is soil enough 
 round them to prevent their starving or being 
 frozen to death. An occasional watering in mild 
 weather will keep them going until the spring, 
 when they can be planted in the garden or the 
 orchard. Many will flower the following year, and 
 all the year succeeding it, and by this means a large 
 stock of bulbs can be secured for outdoor blooming, 
 all of which will have served their primary purpose 
 first of all in the greenhouse, and made a winter 
 the happier by their beauty. 
 
 It is necessary to take up the calla Richardias, or 
 arum lilies, from their summer trench in the early 
 part of the month, to prevent their getting a check 
 that would retard their flowering. They are kept 
 close in a frame for about a week when they are 
 brought in, and are transferred to the greenhouse 
 before the first cold comes at the end of the month. 
 The greenhouse and all the frames have been 
 cleaned for the winter ; they were fumigated with a 
 sulphur candle when empty, and every inch of their 
 interior has been washed with soft soap, so that 
 insect pests will be forced to build new houses if 
 they make up their minds to return to their old 
 haunts. One may hope that during the cleansing 
 operations they have taken fresh lodgings and will 
 
1 84 SEPTEMBER 
 
 not care to disturb themselves by returning to us. 
 The woodlice, or " pigs," as Sterculus calls them, 
 are some of our most persistent invaders. 
 
 Besides the frames and the house, the plants also 
 have to be cleaned. They are laid on their sides on 
 the ground, and are syringed with a weak insecti- 
 cide both under and over the leaves. The pots are 
 scrubbed, and everything is subjected to a severe 
 scrutiny before being set in winter quarters. A 
 mat placed under the pots while the syringing is 
 being done prevents the soil from splashing up 
 again on to the leaves and pots. This annual 
 cleaning is well worth the trouble we take over it. 
 
 Sept. 75. This is the best time to prepare the 
 violet beds for the winter. If the plants have been 
 kept watered through the hot weather they will now 
 be of a good size and well set with buds. Some 
 care should be taken in filling the frames, and raw 
 manure must never be used if a steady supply of 
 flowers is required over a long period. There will 
 be plenty of bean and pea haulm, old sunflower 
 stems, or other rough stuff, with which the boxes 
 may be filled to the depth of a foot, and the 
 material must then be well trampled down to reduce 
 it in compass. A good light soil mixed with a fair 
 proportion of spent manure from an old hotbed may 
 fill the frame to within six inches of the top, care 
 being taken again to make the bed firm. Lift the 
 violets with large balls round their roots, nip off any 
 runners which may have formed, and plant closely 
 together in the frame. If they have been properly 
 looked after in the summer, they will begin to bloom 
 profusely in a fortnight's time. But one caution is 
 
SEPTEMBER 185 
 
 most essential. Under no conceivable circum- 
 stances should the lights be put on not even at 
 night until the end of November. If the weather 
 is very cold they may then be shut, or nearly shut, 
 at night, but not otherwise. Violets will not do 
 well late if they are coddled early in the winter ; the 
 cooler their treatment is, short of being subjected to 
 severe frost, the better they will thrive. About 
 Christmas time some good old manure may be 
 pricked in about the roots, and if the flowers have 
 become small and sparse they will speedily improve. 
 At mid-winter, in a long spell of sharp frost, a few 
 handfuls of dead fern may be strewed among the 
 plants, inside the frames, and as much protection 
 may be given outside as is convenient, to protect 
 from damage the dormant buds. 
 
OCTOBER 
 
 Oct. r I ^ H E work of October is very important. 
 / i It is now that provision is made for 
 winter wants or rather, it is now that it is seen 
 what provision has been made, for in some cases 
 nearly a whole year's forethought is required to 
 secure a pot of bloom. Many chrysanthemums, for 
 instance, have been growing since last Christmas, 
 and there are very few winter subjects that do not 
 require six months' preliminary treatment before 
 they will reward the grower with their flowers. 
 
 My greenhouse measures fifteen feet by ten not 
 an extravagant size. It has a stage down each side 
 and at one end ; a couple of shelves rather high up, 
 also at the end ; a movable shelf, that in times of 
 stress swings high in the roof above my head ; and 
 a couple of benches, which also when the need is 
 dire run down the centre, standing on the gravel 
 which forms the floor. It is heated with an Ivanhoe 
 stove, and a four-inch flow and return pipe round 
 two sides and an end. The stage on one side is 
 topped with a galvanised tray its whole length and 
 width, and about six inches deep. This tray is 
 filled with peat from a neighbouring fir wood, in 
 which we can plunge cyclamens and other things 
 
 1 86 
 
OCTOBER 187 
 
 that dislike a draught circulating about their roots. 
 The peat can be kept moist as is required, which is 
 a great help in the growing of some things. The 
 portion of tray which is over the stove is filled with 
 sand instead of peat. This is not a desirable plunge, 
 but in our circumstances it is a necessary one ; for 
 where there is now sand there once was peat, which 
 ignited by the heat under it given out by the stove, 
 to our almost irreparable undoing. 
 
 We pack a great deal into the greenhouse. 
 There are in it now fifty large chrysanthemums, 
 nearly all of them in seven-inch or nine-inch pots ; 
 seventy pots of zonal pelargoniums, eighteen of 
 freesias, twenty of primulas, twelve of arum lilies, 
 twelve of cyclamens, and a few odd things, such as a 
 large pot of smilax growing up many strings for 
 cutting ; another large one of the dwarf asparagus 
 fern, also for cutting ; one or two winter-flowering 
 cacti, a lemon verbena, and so on. 
 
 A large four-light frame contains other plants 
 cinerarias, fancy pelargoniums for the spring, 
 Christmas roses in pots, Solomon's seal, with nar- 
 cissus, paper-white and double Roman, in large 
 boxes, just taken from the plunge. There are also 
 numerous begonias, gloxinias, achimenes, fuchsias, 
 and other things which made the greenhouse gay 
 in summer. 
 
 Four more frames hold the violets, which already 
 are yielding profuse bloom. There is one frame of 
 the lovely Princess of Wales, whose blossoms hide 
 a penny-piece ; these are now in perfect condition. 
 They will be of no use at mid-winter, but will come 
 on again in early spring. Two of Marie Louise 
 
1 88 OCTOBER 
 
 and one of Count Brazza's white violets complete 
 the tale of frames given up to these flowers. Other 
 plants are growing in the open, to yield their 
 blossoms later than the ones that are in shelter. 
 
 In the next following pages I am going to give 
 advice to those who have but a small quantity of 
 glass, and are yet desirous of keeping up a stock of 
 flowers for cutting during the winter season of the 
 year. To persons who possess a considerable area 
 of greenhouse accommodation I have nothing to 
 say. They should never be wanting in blossoms, 
 provided that proper care and a sufficient expendi- 
 ture is provided. But there is a far larger class of 
 amateur growers those who have a small green- 
 house, or perhaps a couple of greenhouses, and 
 imagine themselves well off for flowers if they can 
 muster half a dozen pots or vases for the drawing- 
 room in January. To these I should like to prove 
 that they are by no means getting the best that is 
 possible unless they can fill their rooms as full of 
 flowers in January as in August. This chapter, 
 therefore, is addressed to amateur gardeners who 
 have sufficient outdoor plants to provide flowers for 
 cutting from March to October, and require enough 
 under glass to keep them supplied from October to 
 March. 
 
 The first essential is the giving up entirely and 
 unreservedly all the bedding plants with which the 
 greenhouse is probably half filled. In the first 
 place, the summer bedding system of gardening is 
 utterly wrong in principle. Spring, summer, and 
 autumn should find its own flowers growing without 
 disturbance at any season of the year. There may 
 
OCTOBER 189 
 
 be mansions I have not seen them myself which 
 demand among their surroundings the stiff and 
 monotonous decoration of bedding plants ; but the 
 ordinary English house is at its best in the really 
 English garden a garden of herbaceous plants, 
 and roses, and carnations, and good things which 
 have been relegated for so many years to the 
 kitchen domains that we feel ashamed to give them, 
 as we should do, the best places in the parterre. 
 It may be said that the season of bloom of carna- 
 tions, for instance, is too short to allow of their 
 usurping the best beds. This taste for perpetual 
 bloom on a given piece of ground is a depraved 
 taste, and should not be encouraged. 
 
 To return to the greenhouse. When all the 
 bedding plants have been consigned to the rubbish 
 heap with the exception of a few zonal and 
 ivy-leafed pelargoniums, which will be wanted 
 for next year's tubs or hanging baskets, if these 
 are used the whole of the glass-house will be 
 available for its proper purpose. The next thing 
 to do is to send nearly all the hard-wood plants 
 the way of the bedding stuff. Even many of those 
 which flower in winter cannot be usefully retained 
 if the best possible results as regards quantity are 
 to be gained. The amateur with but a small 
 greenhouse cannot have these beautiful things. 
 He cannot have azaleas, because they take up 
 large spaces on the stage from October to February 
 which should be given to flowers that bloom within 
 those months. He cannot have bouvardias for the 
 same reason, for they will not do their best in 
 winter in the ordinary amateur's house. Fuchsias 
 
1 90 OCTOBER 
 
 are also taboo for similar considerations. From a 
 different cause, but an equally potent one, such 
 good winter blooms as sparmannia, cytisus, and 
 other amenable plants are impossible ; they flower 
 at the right time, indeed, but their habit is large, 
 or, at any rate, it tends rapidly to become so, and 
 they take up the room of several primulas or 
 geraniums. All these things, or nearly all, must 
 depart in favour of soft stuff and bulbs, which will 
 keep the house gay from October to March. There 
 is, in fact, to be nothing on the shelves or the stages 
 except plants that will flower in winter, and a very 
 important consideration plants that can be for 
 the most part done away with directly their bloom 
 is over. This is the case with primulas and 
 cinerarias, which may be thrown to the rubbish 
 heap when their flowers are cut ; chrysanthemums 
 can be turned into frames, as may also all the hardy 
 bulbs when their season is over, with cyclamens, 
 callas, and half a dozen other things. With proper 
 protection they will come to no harm. Freesias 
 can be thrust under the stages ; pelargoniums into 
 a warm attic ; most things, in short, can be got 
 rid of for a time, except in an exceptionally rigorous 
 winter, to leave the greenhouse free for flowering 
 plants. 
 
 The conscientious reader who skims over this 
 chapter with an inclination to act upon its advice 
 will by this time feel very sad for his summer 
 display under glass. But I do not for a moment 
 intend to deny him the pleasure of greenhouse 
 flowers in the summer months, though he may 
 possibly be obliged to rearrange his stock of these 
 
OCTOBER 191 
 
 things. In such a house as I have described 
 many hundreds of pots of begonias, achimenes, 
 and gloxinias may be laid on their sides under 
 the stages in October, and brought out and started 
 a few at a time from February onwards, when 
 the congestion of the house is to some extent 
 relieved. Petunias may then be sown with a 
 dozen other subjects that thrive well in pots and 
 will provide a summer show. Moreover, as in 
 all probability nothing will induce him to act 
 unreservedly on my advice of the immediately 
 preceding pages, he will have spared some of the 
 best of the fancy pelargoniums and other spring 
 flowering stuff, so that there shall be no gap 
 between his winter and his midsummer displays 
 under glass. 
 
 Apart from chrysanthemums, the main source 
 of supply for some weeks to come will be zonal 
 pelargoniums, and, a little later, primulas. Of 
 course, all zonals are not suited for winter blooming, 
 but there are plenty which will flower in a night 
 temperature of 40 or 45, and some of these 
 should be secured. Among other good varieties 
 may be mentioned Volcanic, Sunbeam, Lucrece, 
 Mikado, Nicholas II., Puritan, and the old Jacoby. 
 The cuttings should be struck in March, and all the 
 buds should be nipped off as they form, until 
 September, when they may be allowed to develop. 
 When they are once staged for blooming water 
 should be given only when required, and no manure 
 water permitted, for if leaf growth is now en- 
 couraged they will cease to give blossoms. These 
 are very good for the amateur's greenhouse, as 
 
192 OCTOBER 
 
 the young plants do not require large pots, four-inch 
 or five-inch being quite big enough ; and they may 
 be staged so close as to touch each other, which 
 makes them economical of space. If the gardener 
 does not exhibit sufficient forethought to ensure 
 a provision of these flowers, and of primulas, the 
 early winter season will be bare indeed. Chrysan- 
 themums, beautiful as they are, are not sufficiently 
 satisfying to take the place of everything else, 
 and there is always a certain amount of risk 
 attending the culture of hardy annuals in pots 
 for autumn use. They may turn out well or they 
 may fail entirely. Primulas and zonal pelargoniums 
 under ordinarily careful treatment never disappoint 
 the grower. 
 
 Best of all the primulas I like the variety called 
 the Star. The blossoms, though small, are thrown 
 well above the foliage, and they are admirable for 
 cutting, as they last in water for a fortnight. The 
 blue kind of primula sinensis, too, is indispensable, 
 and a vase or pot of it always attracts notice. The 
 seed of this is expensive to buy at our best seeds- 
 men's, but for a few pence a packet of it can be 
 purchased from some of the German growers who 
 advertise in our gardening papers. As no amount 
 of money will at present secure a true-blue colour, it 
 is hardly worth while to pay several shillings for 
 seed which is only of lavender a shade deeper than 
 Germany can supply for half a dozen pence. 
 
 In places where beds of annuals are used for a 
 summer display the space will now be available for 
 planting for spring. Nothing is more beautiful 
 than wallflowers for this. The best, to my mind, 
 
OCTOBER 193 
 
 are the gold and the primrose varieties ; for cutting 
 there is certainly nothing more telling than these 
 two in combination. The art shades, as they are 
 termed the so-called salmon and mauve and 
 purplish tints are better omitted unless there is 
 plenty of room for all, but the old blood-red is 
 always beautiful. Double white daisies make an 
 excellent border for the gold and primrose sorts, 
 and with the red no plant is prettier than the blue 
 forget-me-not. There is nothing new about the 
 combination, but assuredly there are few things 
 better. 
 
 Oct. ii. I have been staying for a week with 
 Seraphina in Devonshire, and have had a very 
 pleasant time. It may be always taken for granted 
 that wherever Seraphina is there will be a pleasant 
 time, or Seraphina would not be there. Even her 
 husband seems to enjoy life, though Jim declares 
 that his contentment is probably the usual kind of 
 happiness in the married state resignation after the 
 event. Jim, as I have before indicated, has no very 
 exalted opinion of Seraphina, but he hates to find 
 fault with her, though Heaven knows she is faulty 
 enough. His desire to make the best of people is 
 in continual conflict with his healthy sense of 
 humour, and I have never heard him say anything 
 more severe of Seraphina than that she is careful 
 to keep all the commandments, one at a time. 
 After all, can much more than this be said for the 
 best of us ? Our virtues, as a rule, are wont to 
 display themselves singly. 
 
 I return to find all our gates painted a bright 
 turquoise blue. I should think that there is no 
 o 
 
194 OCTOBER 
 
 other place in the county which has turquoise-blue 
 gates. Jim's guilty face, when he met me on the 
 doorstep, betrayed his responsibility without any 
 hope of disguise. It appears that a worthy youth 
 in the village has lately taken to carpentering as 
 a means of livelihood, and his master has palmed 
 off a quantity of paint material on the guileless lad 
 at a tempting price. He, being seized in his turn 
 with the lust of profit-making, confided the news of 
 his purchase to Jim, and begged permission to 
 adorn our premises, and Jim, though he must have 
 known full well how detestable it would look, 
 weakly consented. The result is amazement. I 
 cannot see why the boy, simply because he is a 
 good boy and an industrious and dutiful boy, should 
 be allowed to disfigure us so completely, but Jim, of 
 course, disagrees with me. He says he thought 
 that the boy probably knew best, and at any rate 
 he had fully made up his mind on the subject before 
 he broached it to Jim. I am certain that if he had 
 wished to paint the gates orange colour, orange 
 colour they would have been by this time, so 
 perhaps there is something to be thankful for after 
 all. At any rate, I did not feel justified in betraying 
 all the wrath I felt, for Jim was obviously gloomy 
 about some other matter, which I made it my busi- 
 ness to discover. His tenderness for worthy and 
 dutiful village boys is extended to the lower brute 
 creation, and it was an interview with the village 
 butcher, ten minutes before my appearance, which 
 had annoyed him. He called upon Mr. Griskin to 
 speak about some Parish Council business, and 
 found that excellent tradesman in the act of promis- 
 
OCTOBER 
 
 195 
 
 ing his smallest son that, if he would be a good boy 
 at school throughout the winter, he should be 
 allowed, as a particular treat on his next birthday, 
 
 MR. GRISKIN THE BUTCHER 
 
 to kill a lamb. Mr. Griskin made haste to enlarge 
 on the topic to Jim, and furthermore told him that 
 his eldest hope, who had been destined from infancy 
 to inherit his grandfather's drapery business, had 
 developed such a love of animals that they had 
 
196 OCTOBER 
 
 thought it best to make a butcher of him. The 
 result so far had been successful beyond his 
 expectations. I tried to console Jim by telling 
 him that I had once seen a similar story labelled 
 as a joke in the pages of Punch, but he did not 
 recover his spirits the whole evening. 
 
 "WE ALWAYS LOOKS AFTER THE SEX " 
 
 For my part I was so glad to get home again 
 that not even turquoise gates had power to dash 
 my happiness for more than a moment. Besides, 
 I had met with a cheering railway porter at Bristol, 
 where, after several hours of travelling, I had to 
 change trains, which I always find a depressing 
 incident in a journey. I was hurrying from one 
 
OCTOBER 197 
 
 platform to another, the porter carrying my smaller 
 luggage, when he looked back over his shoulder 
 and said with paternal solicitude 
 
 " Don't you hurry, ma'am. We always looks after 
 the sex ; it's the only good thing we've got left." 
 
 I daresay there are some persons who would fail 
 to understand why I began to feel happy at once, 
 and was enabled almost to enjoy the remainder of 
 the journey. 
 
 I brought back with me a small nephew and niece 
 on an indefinite visit, and they shock our other 
 guests by their invariable greeting, " We've come 
 to stay wif auntie because muvver's nearly dead." 
 They are callous little creatures, and it is impossible 
 to touch their hard hearts. I ventured when Basil 
 was naughty this morning to say to him 
 
 " If you are not a good boy, Basil, I shan't love 
 you any more." 
 
 "And I'm not loving you now," was the unabashed 
 reply. 
 
 He is very anxious to understand the manner of 
 his first creation, and questioned me very closely. 
 
 " Did God say ' Let there be Basil,' and there 
 was Basil?" 
 
 Thereupon I thought it would interest him to 
 hear about a great fire which I had seen when I was 
 away, and was proceeding with a vivid description 
 when he yawned audibly, and said 
 
 "Yes, thank you, auntie, but now tell us about 
 hell fire." 
 
 I did not feel competent to describe hell fire, and 
 my nephew has a poor opinion of me in conse- 
 quence. 
 
198 OCTOBER 
 
 Oct. 12. The new curate has called. He is a 
 timid, retiring creature. If one asks him a question 
 to which an affirmative reply is clearly indicated, he 
 says, " Certainly I suppose so perhaps." It 
 reminds me of the Frenchman who, when called 
 upon to admire Niagara, exclaimed, "It is magnifi- 
 cent ! it is stupendous ! it is pretty well ! " This 
 good young man has evidently been much kept in 
 order. I wonder how soon he will discover that he 
 really has an opinion of his own or if he will never 
 do so. 
 
 It must astonish and mystify a country population 
 to observe the enormous differences presented by 
 their ecclesiastical shepherds. There is in them no 
 harmonious similarity of demeanour, such as should 
 appear in brethren of one cloth. Dr. Capel, the 
 late rector of a neighbouring parish, for instance, 
 could not easily be reproduced, for which his parish- 
 ioners certainly ought to feel thankful. If he passed 
 a man who omitted to touch his hat to him, he would 
 make haste to deprive him of that necessary gear. 
 If the impertinent minion happened to be riding 
 in his donkey-cart, Dr. Capel would incontinently 
 pull him from the seat. He was, I should think, 
 rather a naughty old parson. He had nine plain 
 daughters of various advanced ages, and he would 
 look round upon them as they sat at his board at 
 dinner-time, and remark to any casual guest 
 
 " A doosid slow thing is virtue." 
 
 One can hardly be surprised that shortly after his 
 death, when his successor was attending a rustic 
 labourer in extremis, and was pointing a moral from 
 the parable of Dives and Lazarus, the poor old soul 
 
HE HAD OMITTED TO TOUCH HIS HAT 
 
OCTOBER 
 
 199 
 
 on being pressed to put his own interpretation on 
 the story remarked con gusto, " Why, of course, 
 gentleman went to hell." 
 
 Oct. 77. I ought to know these people by this 
 
 "AND I'M NOT LOVING YOU NOW" 
 
 time, but there is always something new to discover 
 in the rustic. He is like a half- explored land, still 
 full of surprises for the explorer. I have been 
 getting my poultry lately from Meshach, who is 
 trying to make a few honest shillings out of his hen- 
 yard in addition to a labourer's wage. I wanted a 
 
200 OCTOBER 
 
 pair of chickens for Monday, and the weather being 
 very warm I desired him to slaughter them on 
 Sunday instead of on Saturday. He hesitated 
 somewhat at the order, but I did not think that 
 even he could regard it as a deadly sin to twist a 
 couple of necks on the Sabbath, so I did not wait 
 for any reply. To-day I hear that he sat up on 
 Sunday night until ten minutes past twelve with the 
 fowls in a hen-coop in his kitchen, and then, Monday 
 having arrived, he was able to do the deed without 
 sin. I recollect that about Whitsuntide, immedi- 
 ately after his conversion, he was the only possessor 
 of early cabbage in the village, and on a Sunday 
 morning Sterculus cast longing eyes at his brother's 
 cabbage-bed as he went by, and begged for a head 
 for his dinner. Meshach said nothing. He took 
 his great clasp knife from his pocket, opened 
 it and laid it on the hedge, retired into his 
 cottage, and struck up a favourite hymn on the 
 concertina 
 
 " The devil and me, we can't agree, 
 I hate him and he hates me." 
 
 When the hymn was finished he came back to 
 the cabbage-bed, and sorrowfully noted a gap in its 
 symmetry, while he replaced in his trouser pocket 
 the knife which lay almost where he had left it. 
 Sterculus told me the story the next day, with many 
 grunts of contempt for his brother's "old-fashioned 
 notions," as he called it. 
 
 Meshach's mother, with whom he lives, is a 
 grumbling soul, who demands much attention. She 
 was unfortunate enough to catch cold on the day 
 
OCTOBER 201 
 
 of Queen Victoria's coronation, when there was a 
 great village junketing together with a violent 
 thunderstorm, and has never felt well since. That, 
 at least, is her story. Sometimes, when she is in a 
 grateful humour, she will give me one of her old 
 books, of which she has a queer and inappropriate 
 collection, acquired when she was in service sixty 
 odd years past. They are all of a serious nature, 
 and Meshach loves them ; so my only means of 
 keeping them both happy is to accept the volume 
 pressed upon me by old Dame Werge, and to 
 restore it surreptitiously on my next visit. If she 
 ever discovers the fraud, she is acute enough to keep 
 the discovery to herself. I could not possibly get 
 any pleasure out of the volume she gave me on 
 Thursday, for it has black marginal lines round 
 every page, which recalls a prejudice of my child- 
 hood. 
 
 When I was a young thing no one ever thought 
 of giving me any present but a book, for nothing 
 else would have been valued by me. My grand- 
 father, however, at one time got into an unlucky 
 vein in his purchasing, and brought me two or three 
 extremely dull ones in succession. They were very 
 dreary, very religious, and abounded in very long 
 words. Moreover, they all had marginal lines round 
 each page. At last another present was due. I 
 tore off the wrapper with terrible misgiving, and 
 burst into floods of tears. There was a veritable 
 Oxford frame of black lines round every page, and 
 I knew that sort of book too well. My good grand- 
 father, when he learnt my prejudice, changed it for 
 me promptly, and took care never to get another of 
 
202 OCTOBER 
 
 the same kind. But the impression is as strong as 
 ever, irrational as it may be. 
 
 I used to spend many happy days with an uncle 
 who was a scholar and delighted in books, but 
 whose limited clerical stipend forbade his indulging 
 his tastes in this direction. He was once, however, 
 within my remembrance guilty of a frightful extra- 
 vagance, and this great event for him and for me 
 took place when I was about twelve years old. 
 The carpenter, undertaker, upholsterer, and general 
 utility man of the village in which he lived was 
 possessed, in the way of business, of a large quantity 
 of waste paper, mostly in the form of books, and 
 my uncle, yielding to a guilty and long-combated 
 desire, bought a hundredweight of this book stuff 
 for the sum of one sovereign. Stealthily was it 
 carted across the road in a wheelbarrow to his study 
 window, to be guiltily handed in to him at dead of 
 night; but the tale of its discovery and of my aunt's 
 righteous anger may not be told here. Suffice it to 
 say that the purchase was a joy to him and to me 
 for years. I had my choice of what I would, and I 
 still cherish an eighteenth - century copy of The 
 Compleat Angler, thumbed in my childhood by me 
 as much as by any of its former owners. But the 
 greatest joy of all was an old metrical translation of 
 Euripides, which I have long since lost. Many of 
 my childish days were made happy by it, and I 
 would give a good deal to possess it now. I 
 wonder if I should find in it the same magical 
 charm that I found then. I trow not. It was only 
 a translation, and although the best, as Goethe says, 
 can always be translated, even the best must seem 
 
OCTOBER 203 
 
 to lack something when the critical faculty is alert, 
 unless the translator's mental gifts are on a par with 
 those of the original writer. 
 
 But there was one book which I loved more 
 dearly than any that it has been my lot to touch 
 or to read since. It was called The Sorrows of 
 Christine, and I wrote it myself. 
 
 What was it all about, my first book ? Beautiful 
 to outward view I can well remember it, for it was 
 bound in white cardboard, and edged and tied with 
 red ribbons. The binding, in fact, gave me as 
 much labour and anxiety as the written matter 
 within, and this is saying a great deal, for the 
 whole thing was a work of no mean size. The plot 
 of the story has long been forgotten even by its 
 writer, but I can recollect that the scenery was 
 made in Germany, and that the hero and heroine 
 were named Gustav and Christine. Why I chose 
 Germany as the fatherland of my firstborn I cannot, 
 after all this lapse of time, recall, for I had never 
 been in that country, and knew scarce a word of 
 the language. However, such details are as naught 
 to the youthful novelist, and I do not doubt that I 
 ignored triumphantly all the exigencies of manners 
 and of tongue and of local colour alike with a lofty 
 scorn, which alas for middle age's disabilities ! 
 would not come to my aid in these later days to 
 help me over such difficulties, charmed I never so 
 wisely. But I was in my early teens and in short 
 petticoats when I wrote my first book, and youth is 
 known to be infallible. 
 
 The gaudy volume was handed about in the 
 family as a work of youthful genius, and I was not 
 
204 OCTOBER 
 
 a little proud of its immediate success. It was 
 beautifully written in a fair round hand, and no one 
 could complain that it was, in one sense at least, 
 hard reading. Eventually it was lent to a more 
 distant relative whose opinion on most subjects was 
 considered final. It was a great blow to me when 
 this relative returned my beloved book without 
 praise even of the mildest order, advising me to 
 write about children, and about English children, 
 und to refrain from attempting German love 
 stories until I should know a little more of my 
 subject. I could never again endure even to think 
 of the sorrows of Gustav and Christine, for my 
 self-confidence was easily shaken ; the book was 
 cared for by my sisters for a while, and finally dis- 
 appeared, no one remembers how. I have a dim 
 suspicion that I burnt it ; a book of which people 
 could speak so slightingly was better dead and for- 
 gotten. 
 
 My next story was a much shorter one. It dealt, 
 I remember, with exciting adventures on the ice- 
 floe, and the dramatis personce were Norwegian, 
 as was also the floe. The characters if characters 
 they can be called who were utterly destitute of 
 character suffered a great deal from the cold. As 
 with my first book a knowledge of German and 
 Germany had seemed unnecessary, so with my 
 second an acquaintance with Norway and the 
 Norwegian language was quite as unimportant 
 a matter. I can recall, though, that in one place, 
 at any rate, I tried to infuse a little local colour into 
 my descriptive narrative ; I have a distinct memory 
 of a sentence which bears out this assertion 
 
OCTOBER 205 
 
 " Men were so cold they forgot to sing Gamlt 
 
 I believe Gamtt Norge" is the National Anthem 
 of Norway, and I am glad to convince myself that 
 in the matter of couleur locale my second story was 
 a distinct advance on my first. I suppose I must 
 have burnt this manuscript as well as the other ; at 
 any rate, it does not survive. 
 
 My third effort was of the short story order. 
 I was about sixteen when I wrote it, and sent it in 
 trembling hope to Dr. George Macdonald, who at 
 that time edited a magazine which made the chief 
 brightness of my childish life Good Words for the 
 Young. I was not kept long in suspense. My 
 manuscript was returned to me with a kind, firm 
 note from the editor, who, in unhesitatingly reject- 
 ing me and my young effort, advised me to put 
 aside the pen and devote myself to study. I have 
 a distinct recollection of burning this letter the very 
 hour I received it and with the letter the luckless 
 story for fear my family should come to know 
 of my shame. From that day to this the fact has 
 been locked a secret in my own bosom, and I now 
 for the first time reveal it under press of the 
 exigencies of truth in telling this history. 
 
 Oct. j/. Failure if a bitter is often a salutary 
 experience. In gardening it is the necessary fore- 
 runner of success, since all one's best results ensue 
 from previous failure. Now that the summer is 
 over, it is well to consider one's failures and the 
 reason of them, and to balance them against the 
 successes ; so I shall jot down a few things which 
 have baffled me, not necessarily of late, but in 
 
206 OCTOBER 
 
 these seven years that have elapsed since I first 
 took my garden in hand. It would be quite easy 
 to make a respectable list of plants that never go 
 wrong, of which I might take as a type the orange 
 pot-marigold, called calendula officinalis, or the 
 common Michaelmas daisy, which hold their own 
 with the rankest weeds. But the question the 
 earnest gardener should ask is not "What can I 
 grow?" but "Why have I failed to grow such-and- 
 such things?" If we decline on the lowest plane 
 of floriculture we shall have no difficulty in getting 
 flowers, but whether these will be worth growing 
 or not is quite a different matter. 
 
 The answer to the question which I have 
 indicated is not always easy to find. Frequently, 
 of course, the difficulty lies in the nature of the 
 soil, or in the position of the border. But these 
 disabilities more often than not cannot be avoided. 
 Another and a more likely reason may be the 
 grower's ignorance of the necessities of the plant. 
 For instance, it would be foolish to try to grow 
 annual sunflowers in a four-inch pot on a window- 
 sill in Bayswater, and no one who knew what the 
 sunflower likes and dislikes would attempt such 
 a thing. The difficulty of getting fine blossoms 
 would be insuperable. But there are difficulties 
 which are not insuperable, and a few of these may 
 be worth considering. 
 
 The gardener, like the meteorologist, must be 
 always looking ahead. To think of the future 
 is a necessary preliminary to success ; to forget 
 it is to court failure. Every gardener should take 
 as a motto the word " Prepare." Prepare for the 
 
OCTOBER 207 
 
 next season, for the future, for next year, or even 
 for two years hence. To neglect this foresight 
 may entail a long chain of failures which no amount 
 of subsequent energy will be able to turn to 
 success. 
 
 Pansies, in a southern county at any rate, are 
 generally a failure, and the chief cause is the want 
 of partial shade and moisture. To grow pansies to 
 perfection the seed must be sown in boxes in May, 
 each seed being dropped at a distance of an inch or 
 so from its neighbour. This sounds a wearisome 
 occupation, but it is not so trying as it would 
 appear, and the number of boxes needed is a much 
 more serious matter if a goodly collection of seed- 
 lings is desired. They should be pricked out into 
 a half-shady bed as soon as they are fit to handle, 
 and transferred to permanent quarters in September. 
 The best position is one sheltered from the midday 
 sun, so that their succulent shoots may not be 
 exposed to the worst heats of summer. A good 
 watering at night with tepid rain water will help to 
 extend their flowering season, and an essential to 
 this end is to pick off the blossoms as they fade. 
 Nothing in animal nature is expected to perform all 
 the functions of life at one time, and it is unreason- 
 able to expect flowers to bloom, to set seed, and to 
 push out new growth together. While they are 
 ripening seed they cannot properly be expected to 
 do anything else. 
 
 Coreopsis grandiflora is a valuable herbaceous 
 plant which generally disappears after a year or 
 two. We learn in books that it is a perennial, but 
 experience is at variance with the writers of books 
 
208 OCTOBER 
 
 in this regard. One or two of them have said that 
 the plant renews itself when in autumn it exhibits 
 side shoots which have not flowered in the summer 
 previous. This may be true, though not invariably, 
 and I do not know how the plants are to be treated 
 to make true perennials of them, if indeed this may 
 be done. But in borders that are not dug over 
 and no properly established border should ever be 
 so rudely treated the seeds will sow themselves 
 from year to year, so that in a few summers, 
 instead of the single parent plant, there will be 
 a colony of seedlings extending themselves yearly 
 until they become a mighty nation, unless anything 
 happens to stamp them out. Another sort of 
 coreopsis, that called lanceolata, is a real perennial, 
 and does not require the attention demanded by the 
 larger and earlier variety. 
 
 I cannot quite understand why mignonette is such 
 a fickle plant. I sow ounces of seed in all direc- 
 tions, but often enough none comes up. I fancy 
 the chief reason is that the cold winds and late 
 frosts of May kill the germinating property at its 
 birth. The best plan is to make a series of sow- 
 ings, when some will probably do well. It does 
 not matter if the seeds come up sparsely, for one 
 plant will cover a large area if the conditions are 
 suitable. In fact, if the seeds come up plentifully, 
 a severe thinning will be necessary to ensure the 
 best results. 
 
 Why do most of my columbines turn into old 
 women's bonnets ? I cannot say, but it certainly is 
 the nature of the plant to revert to the primitive 
 type. Some of the best seedlings after a summer's 
 
OCTOBER 209 
 
 flowering disappear, and in their place I see plants 
 whose flowers, instead of being pale mauve or clear 
 yellow, are of a dusky purple. No herb can sur- 
 pass this one for perpetuating its kind. To exter- 
 minate it requires much patience, for it seeds itself 
 in every nook and cranny, and throws a long tap 
 root down into the depths which clings so fast that 
 a prong will hardly dislodge it. 
 
 A family that hates root disturbance is that of 
 the hellebores, or Christmas and Lenten roses. 
 Seldom it is that these beautiful winter flowers are 
 seen growing to perfection. To get them well 
 established is the first necessity, and to give them 
 relief from summer sun and drought is the second. 
 It is not good to move these clumps at all, but if for 
 any reason moving must be done, then moving and 
 dividing may be accomplished together in the 
 height of summer when the plants are in full 
 vigour. A fresh growth will heal the wounds of 
 separation if it is done at that time. A glass frame 
 will be wanted in winter if the flowers are to be 
 protected from the frost and rain that would dis- 
 colour them. The frame will help also to lengthen 
 the flower stalks, and thus make them more useful 
 for cutting. 
 
 Nothing is easier to grow well in our borders than 
 the Spanish iris, and by all the rules of common 
 sense they should flourish as well in the long grass 
 of the wild garden as elsewhere. Garden manuals 
 assert that they delight in a dry, light soil, and 
 practical gardeners who write to the horticultural 
 journals are fond of affirming that they also enjoy 
 the company of long grass. I have not found it so. 
 p 
 
210 OCTOBER 
 
 I raised a goodly number from seed, and bought 
 many more, and planted them all over a corner of 
 the orchard. The first summer I had a fair number 
 of flowers, the second none, and it is certain that 
 this bareness was not due to any destruction of the 
 leaves by the scythe, for the grass was not mown 
 until August. 
 
NOVEMBER 
 
 Nov. T HAVE been placed in an awkward pre- 
 6* JL dicament, and have overheard an offer 
 of marriage, or what practically amounts to it. But 
 there is a story attached which involves a retro- 
 spect. 
 
 Three months ago there died in our village a 
 blacksmith named Bill Werge, the brother of Ster- 
 culus and of Meshach. He was just over middle 
 age, and had not married, and as he was a saving 
 man he had amassed a little fortune, as village for- 
 tunes go. At any rate, he owned his forge and the 
 cottage he lived in, as well as the one occupied by 
 his mother, and another that adjoined it under the 
 same roof. He left the forge to Sterculus, who 
 promptly sold it and put the money out at interest, 
 being more enterprising than other villagers who 
 have not travelled so far as Northumberland. The 
 cottage occupied by his mother he bequeathed to 
 her, and the one next door to Meshach. Meshach 
 had always been his favourite, and he left him a 
 parting message as well. 
 
 " Tell him he'll have the cottage that's let to Mrs. 
 Bidstraw wi' the apple tree a-hangin' over it. Tell 
 
 211 
 
212 NOVEMBER 
 
 him there's a treasure there all for him to seek for 
 to work for " And then he died. 
 
 I know the whole story, for Nancy Bidstraw told 
 it to me. 
 
 Meshach could not enter upon his inheritance 
 because the cottage was let to Mrs. Bidstraw on a 
 yearly tenancy. But he hankered after the treasure 
 and felt sure that he knew the spot where it was 
 buried. Everyone who has a treasure to hide 
 buries it under a tree. The apple tree was the only 
 tree in the garden worthy of the name, and beneath 
 it the treasure was buried. Meshach could not get 
 possession of the property, but he could look at the 
 place where his treasure lay. 
 
 He strode across the fence one evening and 
 knocked at Mrs. Bidstraw's door. It was opened 
 by Nancy. 
 
 "Good evening, Meshach," said Nancy. 
 
 Stupid Meshach did not detect the light that 
 came into her dark eyes when she saw him standing 
 on the door-sill, nor the faint blush which mounted 
 into her olive cheek. He was thinking only of his 
 inheritance, and not at all of Nancy. He had never 
 thought of Nancy, though they had lived next door 
 to each other all their lives. 
 
 " Do you want to turn us out, Meshach ? " she 
 asked in pleading tones. 
 
 " No," said Meshach. 
 
 " Do you want to see mother? She's gone to 
 Oldborough." 
 
 "No, I don't know as I do." 
 
 " Is it me you want to see, then ? " asked Nancy, 
 smiling. 
 
NOVEMBER 
 
 213 
 
 " Not partic'lar," answered he. 
 " Then what do you want ? " she cried, losing her 
 patience and flushing with indignation. 
 
 "IS IT ME YOU WANT TO SEE?" 
 
 " I want to dig a bit under the apple tree to- 
 morrer with Mrs. Bidstraw's leave." 
 
 "To find the treasure?" asked Nancy mis- 
 chievously. 
 
214 NOVEMBER 
 
 " Ah ! " assented Meshach. 
 
 " What makes you think there's a treasure there ?" 
 
 "Bill said there was. He said I was to dig under 
 the apple tree until I come to buried treasure." 
 
 " Come out to the apple tree," said Nancy. 
 
 They went out of the cottage and stood in the 
 little patch of garden at the back on which the old 
 apple tree grew. At the side of the house was a 
 well-tended flower garden, and behind was a plot 
 stocked with vegetables. Under the apple tree was 
 a carpet of green turf. 
 
 "It's such a pity to dig this up," said Nancy. 
 
 " I must if I be to find the treasure." 
 
 " Maybe your brother didn't mean that the trea- 
 sure was a buried one." 
 
 " What else could he ha' meant ? " 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," replied Nancy carelessly. 
 " Where do you think you'll find it ? Here ? " 
 
 She was standing close to the tree, and as I 
 know Nancy Bidstraw very well indeed, I can 
 picture the wicked way in which her dark eyes 
 met his. 
 
 " I dunno." 
 
 " Or here ? " moving to the wall of the house. 
 " Do you think 'tis here ?" 
 
 " I dunno," said Meshach again. 
 
 " Or here ? " going to the garden hedge. 
 
 " I dunno," repeated the young man stupidly. 
 
 " No, I don't think you do know," cried Nancy, 
 with irritation; "an 1 what's more I don't believe you 
 ever will know. Bill knew, but he couldn't get it." 
 
 " Couldn't get it ! Not his own treasure ? " cried 
 Meshach in open-mouthed amazement. 
 
NOVEMBER 215 
 
 " No, he couldn't get it." 
 
 -Why not?" 
 
 " Because I wouldn't let him." 
 
 " But how could you hinder him? The garden 
 was hisn, an' the house too. How could you hinder 
 him ? " 
 
 " Never mind how. I did hinder him, anyway. 
 Would you turn us out, Meshach, if I was to hinder 
 you gettin' the treasure you're wantin' ? " 
 
 " Yes, I would!" said Meshach firmly. 
 
 " I haven't no patience with you you be so 
 silly ! " cried Nancy. And she turned away in a 
 rage and ran into the cottage, leaving Meshach 
 to wonder what ailed the maid that she should get 
 so red. 
 
 He brought spade and pick the next morning, 
 and began by removing the turf. The patch seemed 
 as though it had never been tilled ; great stones 
 came up with the earth, and the ground was as hard 
 as iron under his tools. 
 
 He dug for the whole of that day. He dug deep 
 and he dug wide. His pick struck the foundations 
 of the house on the hither side of the patch, and 
 still he found nothing. Nancy came out when he 
 was putting his tools together and laughed at him. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Moonraker," she said for Meshach 
 was a Wiltshireman by birth " have you found the 
 treasure yet ? " 
 
 " No, but I'll find it to-morrow," said Meshach 
 doggedly. 
 
 " Maybe!" replied Nancy. 
 
 The next day he dug through the gravel path 
 well up into the garden, and close to the sty which 
 
216 NOVEMBER 
 
 sheltered Mrs. Bidstraw's fat bacon-pig ; and in the 
 
 evening Nancy jeered at him again. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Moonraker, have you found the 
 
 treasure ? " 
 
 " No," said Meshach. 
 
 " Would you like me to help you ? " 
 
 " Yes, I would if you can, Vevver." 
 
 " If I can ! I could help you a deal more'n you 
 
 THE FAT BACON-PIG 
 
 know, but I'm not sure you deserve to be helped. 
 You ought to be man enough to do wi'out help." 
 
 " I've worked hard enough to-day for two men," 
 said Meshach, wiping his brow with irritation. 
 
 " Too hard. It isn't diggin' that's wanted for 
 findin' treasure in these days ; it's sense an' insight, 
 an' the power of knowin' what's good when you 
 see it." 
 
 " You talk as if you knowed where the treasure 
 is," said young Meshach sulkily. 
 
 " Maybe I do." 
 
 He caught her by the hand. I was in the kitchen 
 
WELL, MR. MOONRAKER, HAVE YOU FOUND THE TREASURE?" 
 
NOVEMBER 217 
 
 and saw it, and so did Mrs. Werge. And Nancy 
 knew that we could see it, for the garden is com- 
 manded by the kitchen window, and she had left us 
 but a few minutes before. 
 
 "Tell me, Nancy," said Meshach ; " tell me, an' 
 I'll give you " 
 
 " What'll you give me ? " 
 
 "What'd you like best?" 
 
 " Oh, something golden a gold locket, or maybe 
 a gold ring." 
 
 "I'll give you a gold locket an' a gold ring 
 
 TWO NAUGHTY GIRLS CAME BY 
 
 too if you'll tell me where the treasure is," pleaded 
 Meshach. 
 
 " I don't believe you'll ever give me a gold 
 locket an' a gold ring unless I tell you where it is, 
 you great silly. You great big, blind, stupid old 
 silly ! " 
 
 Two naughty girls came by, and giggled over 
 the garden hedge. They nudged each other in the 
 side and exploded in fits of laughter, while young 
 Meshach glowered at them from the naked roots of 
 
218 NOVEMBER 
 
 the apple tree. But they stood still and laughed 
 unabashed. 
 
 " Look at Meshach Werge an' his treasure !" they 
 said. 
 
 " Where ? " cried Meshach. But the girls had 
 passed and Nancy was blushing. 
 
 " What do they mean, Nancy ? " 
 
 " How can I tell you, Meshach ? " 
 
 " Ain't there a treasure after all ? " 
 
 " Not if you think there ain't." 
 
 " But be there, do you think?" 
 
 " I think maybe you might come to think 
 there is." 
 
 " But where, then ?" 
 
 Nancy went up to the wall of the house and 
 stood beside it, and tapped the earth with her foot. 
 
 " I think it might be just here," she said. 
 
 " But I've looked just there." 
 
 " An' there ain't no treasure ? " 
 
 " Nary," replied Meshach mournfully. 
 
 Nancy went close up to the apple tree and stood 
 beneath it. 
 
 " I think you might find it just here." 
 
 " But I've looked just there. I've dug it all up. 
 I don't believe there isn't no treasure. Is there, 
 Nancy ? " 
 
 " Not if you think there isn't, Meshach." 
 
 11 He said it was under the apple tree." 
 
 -Well?" 
 
 " An' there's nothin' under the apple tree." 
 
 " Nothin', Meshach, except me." 
 
 Meshach looked stupidly at her for the space 
 of a minute, and then a great light overspread his 
 
NOVEMBER 219 
 
 honest countenance. He caught naughty Nancy 
 in his arms. 
 
 " My pretty dear ! " he cried. 
 
 " I never did hold wi' young married folks a-livin' 
 wi' older persons," said Mrs. Werge insistently to 
 a hearer whom she thought, I am sure, exceedingly 
 dull of comprehension. " An' if they likes to take 
 that cottage at the bottom o' the hill I shan't put 
 naught in their way. But I wun't turn out o' 
 thissen, not fer no Meshachs as ever was, an' they's 
 best not try at it." 
 
 For her there was no beautiful idyll, but only 
 a foresight of future personal discomfort. 
 
 Nov. 14. There are plenty of flowers still 
 blooming out of doors. One of the most useful 
 is the Margaret carnation, cut from plants carefully 
 disbudded in late summer to ensure an autumn 
 harvest. Plumbago larpentce, with its lovely blue 
 colouring, is useful for cutting, though it must be 
 grown in some quantity if more than a handful 
 of sprays is required. There are also coreopsis 
 grandiflora and lanceolata, phlox drummondi, pent- 
 stemon barbatus, var. Torreyi, antirrhinum , and a 
 score of other things in small quantity. For 
 although dahlias have been cut down by the frost 
 these hardier things are left. Under glass also 
 there is no lack of blossom, though in less variety. 
 Chrysanthemums are beginning to make a grand 
 show. Charles Davis and Viviand Morel are at 
 their best, and to my mind these are two of the 
 most satisfactory varieties for the amateur. With 
 
220 NOVEMBER 
 
 ordinary attention they make handsome flowers 
 as well as good ornamental plants, and they never 
 seem subject to the chances and changes which 
 affect newer kinds. Madame Carnot is another 
 excellent one. It never, to be sure, does its best 
 except in the hands of the expert, but its second 
 best is so consoling that no one need fear to grow 
 it. Other good sorts are G. J. Warren and Mrs. 
 Mease, sports from Madame Carnot ; R. H. Pear- 
 son, Phoebus, Golden Gate, and a kind little known 
 called Silver Cloud. It is not a monster bloom, 
 and has consequently dropped out of most of the 
 catalogues, but it should be grown for its warm 
 coppery cream colour, which is like no other that 
 I know. Another good variety, though hardly up 
 to exhibition form, is Monsieur Gruyer, which is 
 invaluable for late cutting. Plants of it kept out 
 in the open all through the autumn until the flowers 
 show colour, and then sheltered in a cold shed 
 at night only, will last on until nearly the end of 
 January. The stiff, firm petals make it an excellent 
 variety for keeping back, and I know none more 
 satisfactory for this purpose. 
 
 I do not care to grow the big plate-like blossoms 
 which many growers aim at. My object is to have 
 flowers for cutting, and although we disbud freely, 
 we are never left with fewer than nine blooms on a 
 plant. Large flowers are suitable for shows, but 
 for no other purpose ; and the amateur who is 
 content with a diameter of six or seven inches 
 is wise. 
 
 Violets are very plentiful just now, especially the 
 beautiful Princess of Wales and the double Marie 
 
NOVEMBER 221 
 
 Louise. Christmas roses also in frames are 
 doing well. Primulas, zonal pelargoniums, fibrous- 
 rooted begonias, Roman hyacinths, and paper- white 
 and double Roman narcissi are among the flowering 
 plants under glass. Everything looks healthy, and 
 there is a great promise of blossom for days even 
 darker than November. 
 
 " The blackest month of all the year 
 Is the month of Janniveer," 
 
 and for " Janniveer " I time my best show, that 
 it may cheer us in the gloomy season when winter 
 holds us tight in his grip, and spring seems a 
 happiness very far off. 
 
 November is the favourite month of Sterculus. 
 He calls it not November, but "dungin' time," and 
 counts all his garden operations from it, as well as 
 his domestic episodes. " I lost my Cousin Jemps 
 a twelvemonth ago last dungin' time," he will tell 
 you, or, " I allus begins to strike my gerzanthums 
 d'reckly after dungin' time." " Loffly stuff!" he 
 says meditatively, looking at some special mixture, 
 " it's a pleasure to get your 'ands into it." It is 
 a pleasure, however, that he is forced to enjoy all 
 by himself, as I cannot raise much enthusiasm over 
 that part of the gardening work. 
 
 November is not the most busy of months in the 
 garden, but I do not know any month in which the 
 gardener can with impunity be idle. This is the 
 best time to sow sweet peas for next summer's 
 enjoyment, and the only drawback to the practice 
 is the habit of mice to eat the seeds or ever they 
 germinate. But mice are the garden pests which 
 are the most easily circumvented. We soak the 
 
222 NOVEMBER 
 
 peas for an hour or more in paraffin, and while they 
 are moist roll them generously in red lead and plant 
 at once. I have never lost seed so treated, and the 
 trouble is hardly worth taking into account. 
 
 Roses must be planted now, and so must briers, 
 if budding is to be done next July. I find the very 
 best autumn rose is Ulrich Brunner. About the 
 end of September the bed planted with these began 
 to show flower as plentifully as if the month had 
 been June, and it has been bristling with bloom 
 ever since. We cut the buds in a half-expanded 
 state, as rough winds would spoil the full-blown 
 blossoms. There are many roses which flower 
 in the autumn, but there are few that produce 
 decent specimens at this time. La France, for 
 instance, still goes freely on, but the delicate petals 
 are ruined by the wind and by morning frosts, so 
 that very few are fit to gather. 
 
 Spiraeas for forcing are being potted and placed 
 in a cold frame, with a covering of fibre over the 
 crowns. Backward primulas are being shifted into 
 their flowering pots. Begonias are laid on their 
 sides in the pots in which they bloomed, under 
 the greenhouse stage. Dahlias and tender gladioli, 
 which have been left out so long in consequence 
 of the autumn's mildness, are being stored in a 
 cellar for the winter. The last of the wallflowers 
 are to be planted to-day, and I am also making 
 large patches of crocuses under two big elm trees 
 at the edge of the wild garden. Anemone fulgens 
 is also to be put out in borders. This is an annual 
 operation with us, and the disappointment is as 
 regular, for I cannot get them to do well. 
 
NOVEMBER 223 
 
 My great difficulty in November is to prevail 
 upon Sterculus to keep the fire in the greenhouse 
 low enough. His aim and ideal in life is to force 
 things on, mine to keep things back at this season, 
 for we shall want them more later. Moreover, 
 plants get badly drawn if they have too much 
 warmth just now, and then their appearance suffers. 
 All that is necessary is to keep out the damp by 
 day and the frost by night, and a large fire is not 
 needed at present to these ends. In the frames, 
 too, plenty of air is required, and there is no day 
 at this season when the inclement elements must 
 be entirely excluded. An inch or two of air will 
 not hurt any of the plants by day, though care 
 must be taken that all is made safe and snug by 
 night. 
 
 I am thankful to say that my nephew and niece 
 left me to-day, and I am able to breathe freely 
 again. The children of the present day seem to 
 enshrine incredible hardness under covering as 
 beautiful as an angel's. The modern child is 
 pleasing only as a study, because he is in process 
 of formation by a new system which keeps its good 
 results for the very end of the operation. I am 
 bound to admit that these results are a great deal 
 more desirable, say, at the age of eighteen or 
 twenty than those which at a similar age were 
 visible in young people of the preceding genera- 
 tion. The timid, clinging type of girl, the shy, 
 rude type of lad have given place to others whose 
 distinguishing characteristic is independence and 
 self-reliance. I have not the slightest doubt that 
 Basil and Edith will be charming young people 
 
224 NOVEMBER 
 
 in a few years' time, but the interval may have its 
 drawbacks for their relatives. 
 
 They are very outspoken and truthful, like most 
 children of the moment, and not at all greedy. 
 Here is a specimen of the conversation which took 
 place at luncheon the day after their arrival : 
 
 " Aren't you hungry, Basil? Why don't you eat 
 your ham ?" 
 
 " I don't want it, thank you." 
 " Don't you like ham ? " 
 " I like nice ham, thank you." 
 " Will you have some pudding, Edith ?" 
 " No, thank you, Uncle Jim. I never eat 
 pudding." 
 
 "Indeed! Why not ?" 
 
 " Because I don't want to be as fat as auntie." 
 11 Won't you finish your chicken, Basil ? " 
 " No, thank you ; I've had half enough already, 
 and I want to keep the other half for the apple 
 tart." 
 
 All this with perfect propriety of demeanour and 
 without the slightest intention of rudeness. They 
 have no reticences, but speak out their thoughts as 
 a matter of course. Their mother never allows 
 them to be reproved, no matter what they may say or 
 do. She tells me that it is not the custom nowadays. 
 To admonish a child for rudeness or for disobedi- 
 ence might cure a bad habit, but would for ever 
 destroy the confidence which exists between child 
 and parent. Perfect naturalness and complete 
 confidence are the two desirable qualities to 
 encourage in children, and nothing must be done 
 to stifle them. When I was a child I was subject 
 
NOVEMBER 225 
 
 to periodical "squashings," to cure some trick of 
 vanity, or of temper, or of idleness. Children 
 brought up on modern methods are never squashed. 
 They learn their faults through observing them in 
 other people ; they cure, or perhaps only conceal them 
 of their own initiative, because these faults make 
 their possessors ridiculous, or tiresome, or despic- 
 able. The moral education of children is thus 
 practically left to themselves, and self-government, 
 instead of beginning at the age of eighteen or so, 
 
 o o o o 
 
 frequently ends there. The results, at the moment 
 when the girl breaks into womanhood or the boy 
 develops into the man, are beautiful to the outward 
 eye, but the process, as I have said, is irritating to 
 the mere observer. 
 
 Basil writes what he chooses to call poetry, and 
 this morning, before he went away, he gave me as 
 a parting gift his latest verses, written in capitals on 
 the fly-leaf of Ibsen's Doll's-house, in which, I 
 presume, the children had hoped to find a story to 
 their liking. But so well am I learning my lesson 
 that I did not scold him for defacing the volume, for 
 fear of destroying the small amount of confidence 
 which exists between us. 
 
 "To AUNTIE FROM BASIL. 
 " Writtn after the Meat of Hownds. 
 " Just as the fox 
 
 Out of the wood, 
 Not in a box, 
 Wishes he could. 
 
 " Though he gets chasd 
 
 Till he gets hot, 
 Dosnt make haste, 
 Therfore gets got." 
 
226 NOVEMBER 
 
 " Writen on Sunday. 
 
 " Good peeple always go to church, 
 Good peepul never nead the birch, 
 But leeve the wicked in the lerch, 
 
 Alleluia." 
 
 These verses inscribed on my Doll* s-house 
 recall an incident of its purchase. I asked Petunia 
 to order it for me from our local bookseller, who is 
 an entirely omniscient person where books are 
 concerned, or at any rate so he thinks. I have 
 never yet known him acknowledge ignorance of 
 any book or its author. Petunia walked into his 
 shop and demanded a copy of Ibsen's Doll's-hoitse. 
 Mr. Moulton knew the book well, but did not stock 
 it. " I suppose you can get it," said Petunia. " I 
 will get it with pleasure," said Mr. Moulton. "It is 
 in the Juvenile Series, as of course you know." 
 
 Nov. 15. Petunia is one of those persons who go 
 in for periodical hobbies. She talks of " taking up " 
 this or the other, an expression quite detestable, 
 because it seems to forebode laying it down again 
 when the inevitable day of boredom comes. But one 
 of Petunia's hobbies has been pursued for so many 
 years that I have hopes that she will be for ever 
 faithful to so old a love. She is a field naturalist, 
 and I would rather go for a walk with her than with 
 any other person I know. Her eyes are every- 
 where ; nothing escapes them ; and I can learn 
 more from her in half an hour by a roadside than 
 from a dozen of the best printed authorities in any 
 period of time which it may take to peruse them. 
 So, to-day, when she turned up at luncheon-time 
 and informed me that she intended to spend the 
 
NOVEMBER 227 
 
 afternoon in Sole Wood, I was delighted to go 
 with her. 
 
 Living within a few minutes' walk of Sole, not to 
 go there at least once a week is a positive sin of 
 omission. It is a beautiful place. The short herbage 
 where it remains is a wonderful ochreous tint, as 
 though laid on with opaque colour. Large warm 
 brown patches of fir needles carry on the tone 
 scheme, and the zigzag paths trodden for short cuts 
 by farm labourers passing through are of the same 
 brown. Most of the trees are Scotch firs, but there 
 are large spaces filled up with the pale yellow of 
 larches, shading back to a delicate green which 
 blends them into the firs. Beeches and hornbeams 
 also are a glorious colour, and the acres of six-foot 
 fern that reach far away over the hilly ground, and 
 retire from other parts in favour of heather and 
 the yellow grass, give softness to the wood. Such 
 an uneven piece of ground it is, sweeping down to 
 a hollow in which a small rush-fringed pond 
 reflects the sky's blue, and lends itself to endless 
 imaginings of extent until you come close to it and 
 realise its narrow limits. The overflow runs away 
 down the hill, still hiding itself in the midst of 
 woods, and tradition has it that a communication 
 exists between this pond and the river in the valley 
 a mile away. To prove the matter, local tradition 
 continues the tale by telling of a duck which, many 
 years since, was thrust under the water at the point 
 where the subterranean passage was supposed to 
 have its beginning, and was subsequently found 
 swimming gaily on the distant river. The evidence 
 has never been considered inadequate, and the point 
 
228 NOVEMBER 
 
 is reckoned as having been triumphantly proved. 
 But there is endless scope for tradition at Sole, 
 which is possibly the old Syntri Weg, or Solitary 
 Way, of Anglo-Saxon charters. 
 
 Coming down on the pond the water looks black, 
 the sky-line being so high that only the dark firs 
 are reflected. A delightful water plant, the leaves 
 in shape like an adder's-tongue fern, covers the 
 edges of it, and great bullrushes stretch out far into 
 its centre in irregular patches. Other minuter 
 growths are mixed up with these ; the place is 
 a very paradise for the pond naturalist. Flocks of 
 wood-pigeons have their hiding-place near it, and 
 break the stillness with their soft cooing. There 
 are fairy rings, too, in the grassy parts, and glorious 
 pink and orange toadstools under the trees. But 
 words are feeble and inadequate to describe the 
 delights hidden away in those few acres of ground. 
 
 I am generally intent during a walk on getting 
 some graceful wild bouquet for the drawing-room, 
 and presently as we went along we came upon a 
 sweet brier, dismantled of its leaves, but gay still 
 with beautiful hips not yet eaten by the birds. A 
 Japanese effect in the old incense burner was plainly 
 indicated, and I was in the act of cutting a fine 
 branch when Petunia grasped me by the arm. 
 
 " Take care ! " she cried ; " oh, it's too late. 
 What a pity ! " 
 
 " What is the matter?" I asked. 
 
 " Do you notice that twig swaying a little as you 
 hold it ? Look at it closer what do you see ? " 
 
 " I see a little brown twig, side by side with other 
 little brown twigs." 
 
SOLE POND 
 
NOVEMBER 229 
 
 "Touch it." 
 
 I touched it, and the little branch seemed 
 suspiciously soft. 
 
 It was a geometer caterpillar, so cleverly dis- 
 guised that I positively could not distinguish it, 
 except by feeling, from the branch which supported 
 it. Wonderfully had this insect protected itself by 
 its extraordinary resemblance to the twig on which 
 it had intended to spend the autumn. The hind 
 claspers fitted tightly into a groove of the brier's 
 main stem, the head and true legs being crumpled 
 up into the appearance of a shrivelled-looking twig. 
 With a silken thread or two it had fastened itself 
 into a fairly secure position, there to pass its time 
 of waiting before becoming a chrysalis. 
 
 " Show me something else," I said to Petunia. 
 
 " November is a particularly bad time for finding 
 examples of protective resemblance, but we will go 
 along the hedge and keep our eyes open." 
 
 We kept our eyes very wide open indeed, but 
 nothing happened again till we reached the pond. 
 Petunia would have told me the Latin name of 
 every weed in it, but real live adventures with 
 caterpillars or other insects are far more interesting 
 to my mind than that section of science which some- 
 one has described as "all names and no powers," 
 and so we raked the water with long branches to 
 discover fresh wonders. And, sure enough, some- 
 thing turned up at last. We pulled in a tendril of 
 the pretty American weed called Anacharis, and 
 remarked that it seemed to have taken to growing 
 by side shoots instead of in its usual straight fashion. 
 Abnormal appearances always excite Petunia, and 
 
230 NOVEMBER 
 
 she examined the weed very carefully as it lay in 
 the water. The wind blew it towards us, but surely 
 the little frond-like excrescences had independent 
 movements of their own, which carried them back- 
 wards against the wind sometimes for a moment. 
 We secured a portion of the spray, and discovered 
 that the lateral fronds were in reality caddis worms 
 living in unwonted houses. Many a time had I 
 found them moving slowly at the bottom of the 
 water in their tiny tenements composed of pebbles, 
 sticks, and shells. But here they were climbing 
 near the surface on the Anacharis, which they 
 had so cunningly imitated with little bits of stalk 
 bound together and sticking out crossways, that 
 one's first impulse was to suspect the weed of un- 
 natural growth rather than to regard that growth 
 as the home of a little colony of caddis worms. 
 
 " Tell me more about caddis worms," I said to 
 Petunia. 
 
 11 1 once assisted at the debut of eight," she 
 answered, "which I had kept in a bell-glass 
 aquarium. It seemed to me one morning that the 
 largest of them looked very uncomfortable, and 
 appeared to be struggling inside his tight little 
 house. At last he wriggled his tail out of it 
 a very ugly little tail. I had never before seen 
 more of him than his head and four of his front 
 legs. Wriggle, wriggle, wriggle, he went, until I 
 thought that he must break in half, but I found he 
 was only trying to discard his old tail, so useful 
 when he had to cling to his house, but no longer 
 needed when he was starting for airier regions. 
 He walked painfully up a small twig, and when 
 
NOVEMBER 231 
 
 he reached the surface of the water he waited 
 awhile." 
 
 1 'What was that for?" 
 
 " Perhaps to take more breath, but no doubt also 
 to dry his new clothes. Very mean and crumpled 
 they looked. I doubted if there could really be 
 four serviceable wings tucked away in so small a 
 compass ; but gradually they opened out, and to my 
 delight the little creature spread them and flew 
 away into a new world." 
 
 " Do you think," I asked, " that he would find 
 his greater dangers compensated by his larger out- 
 look upon life ? Do you think he would ever 
 regret the monotony and the comparative safety of 
 his watery home ? Do you think 
 
 " Don't be silly ! " said Petunia. 
 
 We searched in the deep carpet of dead leaves 
 in hopes of finding a butterfly or a ladybird tucked 
 away for the winter, but none were to be seen. 
 The total way in which the common butterflies 
 contrive to disappear with the sunshine is won- 
 derful. Some expose themselves freely on surfaces 
 harmonising with their colours, but they are none 
 the less difficult to distinguish even though the 
 searcher may be gazing intently at them the while. 
 Others dig down among thick leaves, or are buried 
 by autumnal storms to emerge safely when spring 
 has come back to the world. A remarkable ex- 
 ample of protection is seen in the Herald Moth, 
 which manages to live through the winter in com- 
 plete safety. It is a bright red in colour, very 
 similiar to a dead beech leaf, and over the red are 
 scumbled a few white spots resembling fungoid 
 
232 NOVEMBER 
 
 growth. No bird would want to eat an object 
 which appears to be merely a piece of vegetable 
 fungus. But the moth has a pair of bright eyes, 
 which would betray its identity and its fitness for 
 food to the enemy, and to render it quite secure 
 these eyes must be hidden. So at periods of rest 
 it covers up the tell-tale orbits with a tuft of hair 
 which springs from beneath the antennae, and when 
 spring comes and the moth is ready to fly again it 
 can bring the antennae forward to shake the tufts 
 from before the eyes. So it is enabled to pass the 
 time of danger, when its natural adversaries are 
 hungry, in perfect safety ; and in the spring there 
 are millions of other insects which the birds may 
 prefer, so that it may live to die a natural death 
 probably in May or June. 
 
 " Now do use your own eyes for once," said 
 Petunia in her uncomfortable, rather blatant man- 
 ner, as she stopped before a bare stretch of hedge 
 on our way home and put on her professorial 
 appearance. 
 
 It was easy enough to see a round brown case 
 about the size of a thimble, but without any open- 
 ing for the finger. It was hidden away among the 
 twigs which formed the hedge, and adhered to one 
 of these twigs quite closely. It was evidently the 
 home of some insect, and he had contrived it so 
 cleverly that it would have been cruel to disturb 
 him in his fancied security. It was quite a common 
 insect, Petunia said, with the simple little name of 
 Trichiosoma tenthredion. 
 
 " I once took a similar little house home with 
 me," she said, " and asked a learned entomologist 
 
NOVEMBER 
 
 233 
 
 what sort of insect had made it. But although he 
 had often seen it he had never taken the trouble to 
 watch for the owner's appearance in the spring. 
 He could not bother himself with anything but 
 lepidoptera." 
 
 A LEARNED ENTOMOLOGIST 
 
 " But I thought he was an entomologist ? " 
 " He was a specialist entomologist, and the 
 specialist will not take the slightest interest in a 
 two-winged insect if his mind is set on collecting 
 four-winged insects, although the most interesting 
 life-histories may be going on under his nose." 
 
234 NOVEMBER 
 
 "Then how did you find out about the little 
 house ? " 
 
 " I had to wait several months until its owner 
 showed itself. One day a perfectly clean section 
 was cut out of the cocoon, and a four-winged 
 bee-like insect emerged. I did not know any 
 
 bee which was in the habit of choosing this sort 
 
 & 
 
 of residence for the winter, so I had to watch 
 and compare until I finally concluded that it was 
 a sawfly." 
 
 " Then why did he look like a bee ? " 
 
 ''Thousands of years ago he began probably to 
 develop a little bit of yellow on his body, and in 
 the course of time by a process of selection he be- 
 came more and more bee-like, until now it needs 
 more than a casual glance to tell the two apart. 
 Bees have stings, and the more the sawfly resembled 
 a stinging insect the more likely he was to escape 
 his enemies. Have you ever noticed towards the 
 end of the summer an unusually large number of 
 big buzzy bees ? " 
 
 "Of course I have." 
 
 " Well, those big buzzy bees are nothing more 
 than two-winged flies which have gradually become 
 so like bees that their enemies birds as well as 
 men have come to leave them alone, though they 
 are as devoid of weapons as the common housefly. 
 They merely imitate the bee for their own protec- 
 tion." 
 
 "What a joke the whole thing must be to them ! 
 Do you think they are really able to enjoy it ? Are 
 they laughing up their antennae while we pass them 
 by with a shudder ? " 
 
NOVEMBER 235 
 
 " I cannot bear to hear a serious subject lightly 
 treated. Only a very frivolous person or an idiot 
 would do it." 
 
 ' 'And which am I, dear Petunia?" 
 
 " I don't think I have ever considered you frivo- 
 lous," said Petunia, in real distress. Nothing but 
 a strict sense of duty could make her hurt my feel- 
 ings ; but this sense the sixth sense is very 
 highly developed in Petunia as in many other 
 persons, and her friends sometimes suffer in conse- 
 quence. I think she began to feel sorry that she 
 had been unkind, so she brought out from the 
 region of her heart a letter received a week or two 
 since from a friend in South Africa. She gave me 
 to understand, without resorting to definite words, 
 that the friend was her cousin, Mr. Jervis, who is in 
 the South African Police ; but I am not sure that 
 this is fact. Mr. Mumby has never been properly 
 accounted for, and I am justified in suspending 
 judgment in the matter. 
 
 "'The beasts here are a very cunning lot,'" she 
 read, " ' and their mimicry borders on dishonesty. 
 Some butterflies have wings just like a leaf, with 
 the veining and all complete, and there are others 
 which display greater cunning than that. They 
 know that some of their friends are provided with 
 little poison bags, which render them exceeding 
 harmful to the tummies of birds and other mur- 
 derous foes. Well, these little creatures, from 
 financial or other reasons, can't run to a poison bag, 
 so they imitate their neighbours' coats, and are 
 gradually discarding their own national dress, so 
 that only the wily naturalist can tell them from the 
 
236 NOVEMBER 
 
 poisonous sort. Where foes are scarce it is only 
 the lady who assumes the disguise of safety, as she 
 has to stand by and look after the family ; but the 
 male wears his old uniform like a man, and runs the 
 chance of getting a mauser bullet (or its equivalent) 
 into him. Some of the ladies are even leaving off 
 wings, and they pretend it is because it makes them 
 look like stalks, and that they merely do it so as not 
 to attract attention ; but I fear it may only be from 
 some slavish following of fashion, which has decreed 
 that wings are not worn this year. How I wish I 
 could see you Oh, that has nothing to do 
 
 with the subject ! " said Petunia, hastily folding the 
 letter. 
 
 A very fascinating book to which Petunia first 
 directed my attention is Mr. E. B. Poulton's Colours 
 of Animals. It would be impossible for a non- 
 specialist reader to give any just idea of its scope, 
 but even the ordinary person to whom the subject 
 is interesting may be permitted to enjoy it in a 
 semi - ignorant fashion. Mr. Poulton begins by 
 tracing the significance of colour and its direct 
 physiological value, and then proceeds to the study 
 of protective and aggressive resemblance and 
 mimicry. Judging from my own case, there must 
 be many persons walking this globe who have never 
 made use of their eyes until perhaps some happy 
 accident or the casual remark of a naturalist has 
 forced them to realise that even in nature things 
 are not always what they seem. 
 
 By far the most widespread use of colour, as Mr. 
 Poulton points out, is to assist an animal in escaping 
 from its natural enemies, or in securing its prey. 
 
NOVEMBER 237 
 
 The former is Protective, the latter Aggressive 
 Resemblance. In Protective Resemblance the 
 animal escapes notice by harmonising in colour 
 with its surroundings, or by resembling some other 
 creature in which its enemies feel no interest. 
 Sometimes the animal will resemble an object 
 which is attractive to its prey, and sometimes 
 another which it desires to injure. These various 
 conditions are delightful to read of in Mr. Poulton's 
 pages. 
 
 Protective mimicry generally shows itself in the 
 adoption of warning colours, which are assumed to 
 help its wearer to survive natural dangers. I 
 suppose that if we humans were merely an inferior 
 race of beings on this globe and liable to be preyed 
 upon by a species of creatures ten times our size, 
 our first object in life would be so to protect our- 
 selves as to reduce danger to the smallest possible 
 dimensions. If, for instance, we discovered that 
 our enemies never ate any of us who were coloured 
 a vivid scarlet, I imagine that by degrees, through 
 a process of selection, we should develop into 
 scarlet men and women for our own protection. 
 The giants, in the first instance, would have some 
 reason for avoiding prey of this colour. Probably 
 in a past age certain of their ancestors, when men 
 were still white, would have come upon a family of 
 bright red specimens, and, having eaten, developed 
 an indigestion which brought them to an untimely 
 end. The other giants would not only eschew 
 scarlet men, but would fancy that everything that 
 resembled a scarlet man was unfit for food. And so 
 the white men would die out and the pale pink men 
 
238 NOVEMBER 
 
 would in the course of many generations be repre- 
 sented by scarlet descendants, or else by none. 
 
 And thus it is with insects and their warning 
 colours. An animal that "tastes nasty" is wise to 
 advertise the fact, and those that feel a prejudice 
 against the idea of being eaten are also wise in 
 imitating though unconsciously and unintentionally 
 those which are unpleasant to the taste, so that 
 they also may escape. 
 
 There are many examples to be found in the 
 insect world. The ladybird is a most nauseous 
 mouthful, offensive to any enemy that should 
 attempt to make a meal off it. It is coloured red 
 and black in a pattern easily recognisable, and thus 
 escapes destruction. The wasp and the hornet are 
 provided with stings which might cause the death 
 of an attacking enemy. But in the struggle they 
 also might die, therefore they provide themselves 
 with a yellow and black uniform which their foes 
 are careful to avoid. 
 
 But there are many insects still left to be preyed 
 upon insects perfectly edible and quite delicious 
 to the palate, and these have to protect them- 
 selves. They set about doing so, in many cases, 
 by imitating either the inedible or the stinging- 
 insects. Some of the moths are very successful in 
 this respect ; those, for instance, which are called 
 the hornet clear-winged moths carrying their re- 
 semblance to a hornet or a large wasp so far that 
 many human beings would make a hasty departure 
 when they appeared. These moths are so careful 
 to carry out the illusion that, when threatened, they 
 even waggle their tails about, as if they were going 
 
NOVEMBER 239 
 
 to sting, although they are quite devoid of the 
 power of doing so. 
 
 In the Filippine Islands there lives a grasshopper 
 of much discernment. He has remarked the ap- 
 pearance of the ladybird, and its immunity from 
 predatory foes ; so he has gradually acquired a 
 rounded shape and a general scheme of colour imi- 
 tating that unpleasant little beetle, and thus he 
 escapes his enemies. Another example is that of 
 the leaf-cutting ant, which is common in tropical 
 America. Every ant, when he goes home to tea, 
 carries with him a leafy umbrella about the size 
 of a sixpence, and another class of insects in the 
 neighbourhood also make a point, when they 
 are going home, of pretending that they too are 
 indigestible little ants, and imitate even the ant's 
 leaf very closely by a thin expansion, which de- 
 ceives all but the most acute observer. 
 
 There are spiders which imitate ants, and hold 
 their forelegs as if they were antennae. They know 
 how delicious they are to the birds, and how un- 
 palatable are the ants, so they protect themselves 
 by mimicry. And some South American cater- 
 pillars even imitate snakes. They have eye-like 
 marks on each side of two of the body rings, and 
 when they are frightened they draw their rings 
 together in such a way as to exhibit the apparent 
 eyes, which, when seen through leafy boughs, give 
 an inconspicuous animal a terrifying appearance. 
 
 A still more curious effect can be seen in the 
 caterpillar of the puss moth (Cerura vinula). This 
 larva, when undisturbed, has no very uncommon 
 appearance, but as soon as it is discovered it with- 
 
240 NOVEMBER 
 
 draws its head into the first body ring, and presents 
 to the astonished observer a large flat face, which 
 is a greatly exaggerated caricature of a vertebrate 
 countenance. This caterpillar is so alarming in 
 appearance that a certain learned entomologist who 
 saw it for the first time was afraid to touch it when 
 it assumed its terrifying attitude, and appeared to 
 glare at him with its two eye-marks, resembling jet- 
 black eyes. 
 
 When we thus see how cleverly an insect can 
 protect itself against its natural foes by assuming 
 warning forms and colours, it at once strikes the 
 careless observer that the remarkable thing is that 
 more species have not availed themselves of the 
 process. We see about us on a summer walk two 
 great groups of insects those which so closely 
 resemble surrounding objects that they are almost 
 indistinguishable from them, and those which are 
 so brilliantly coloured that they must attract atten- 
 tion from every living creature. We are quick to 
 conclude that the brightly coloured ones are pro- 
 tected by flavour or texture from death by hungry 
 enemies ; and it seems absurd that the other duller 
 creatures, which are only protected by a certain 
 resemblance to their surroundings, should not have 
 adopted a more aggressive means of self-preserva- 
 tion. There must be some principle antagonistic 
 to such a mode of protection, and this principle 
 would be found in the too complete success of the 
 method. If a very common insect which formed 
 the staple food of some animal took such a means 
 to protect itself, the predatory animal would be 
 forced to eat unpalatable food to avoid starvation. 
 
NOVEMBER 241 
 
 In the course of time the unpalatable food would be 
 so familiar that custom would render it desirable. 
 If once the enemy was driven by hunger to eat 
 largely of any such insect, it would come in the end 
 to devour with relish the food which at first it ate 
 only under sheer necessity. 
 
 There is but little doubt in these days that animal 
 colour must have been in the first place non-signifi- 
 cant. By the process of natural selection it has 
 become in many instances significant. Mr. Poulton 
 is a firm adherent of Darwinism, and, like that great 
 biologist, considers natural selection as the one 
 solid foundation upon which evolution rests. He 
 points out the direct testimony to this view which 
 has been brought to bear on the subject, and comes 
 to the conclusion that experiment would prove all 
 mimicked species to be dangerous or disagreeable 
 to the enemies of their class, and that all mimetic 
 resemblances are due to natural selection. 
 
 K 
 
DECEMBER 
 
 Dec. 'T^HIS is the Day of the Unconquered 
 2 5' jL Sun dies invicti solis. To-day seems 
 to justify the patristic choice of Christ's birthday 
 anniversary, for we have been rejoicing in the sun's 
 glorious brilliancy since early dawn, and there is 
 even warmth in his rays. 
 
 My labours of Christmas are at an end. I have 
 tied up, labelled, and myself distributed parcels to 
 two hundred and ten children and old people, not 
 forgetting the shepherd in the distant field known 
 as Cunnigaw Hill since the Saxon days when 
 perhaps a king owned it. It is always the 
 shepherds who are apt to be forgotten at times 
 of rejoicing, and a special effort is entailed to 
 provide some pleasure for them. The season's 
 responsibilities and the day's duties being alike well 
 over, I can spend an hour in the greenhouse before 
 darkness drives me indoors. It is weeks since 
 I have been able to give a whole hour to my plants, 
 and I know no greater refreshment to the tired 
 mind and body than to get away into their company 
 and pore over every growing stem and leaf and 
 note their rate of progress and their prospects of 
 a speedy delivery of their tender blossoms. 
 
 December is a month when every bloom is valu- 
 
 242 
 
DECEMBER 243 
 
 able. If the flower famine ever threatens in the 
 well -managed greenhouse it is between the winter 
 solstice and mid- January. Just now, for instance, 
 I have fewer varieties in bloom than at any season 
 of the year, though luckily there is no diminution 
 in the general bulk. 
 
 THE SHEPHERD ON CUNNIGAW HILL 
 
 Apart from chrysanthemums, the most useful 
 flower for the amateur from October to December, 
 as I think I have said before, is the zonal pelar- 
 gonium. Provided that true winter varieties are 
 stocked, there can hardly be too many plants on the 
 shelves. But three months of continued flowering 
 will naturally result in some exhaustion, and by the 
 
244 DECEMBER 
 
 end of the year other plants must take the place 
 of the geranium as a mainstay of the gardener. 
 Nothing is better suited for this purpose than the 
 primula, which is as easy to grow as the geranium, 
 and can be provided in almost equally generous 
 quantities to tide over the season of threatened 
 famine before the succession of bulbs come in, 
 which will be about the middle of January. 
 Cinerarias are almost as useful as primulas, but 
 in a small house very few can be maintained, as 
 they are worthless unless well grown. It is not 
 generally recognised that cinerarias are admirable 
 for cutting if the flowers are picked before they are 
 expanded to their fullest. I have had them in 
 vases for ten days or 'a fortnight, but it is necessary 
 to change the water every day, and to give them 
 good-sized vases. 
 
 I said in a previous chapter that I would describe 
 the best way to enjoy hardy bulbs in the drawing- 
 room, so I will give my experiences here. 
 
 I had a few Roman hyacinths in bloom at the 
 end of November, but the main supply came in 
 about a fortnight ago. I have a blue basin, in 
 shape and size rather like a shallow wash-basin, 
 but of a good porcelain, and having the design 
 painted all over the outside. It is sixteen inches 
 in diameter, and holds about eighteen or twenty 
 bulbs. We first fill the basin half full of sand, 
 then dig up with great care from the box of 
 hyacinths all those bulbs whose flowers are on the 
 point of expanding. The roots are preserved as 
 nearly intact as possible, and are dipped in luke- 
 warm water to cleanse them from the soil, before 
 
DECEMBER 245 
 
 being replanted in the basin of sand. More sand 
 is then strewn over and around them to keep them 
 steady, and finally a layer of moss is laid over the 
 roots. The sand is kept wet, and so long as this 
 point is attended to so long will the bulbs thrive as 
 well as though they were still in their original 
 boxes. My bulbs this year are the best I have 
 ever had. Each one is throwing up at least three 
 or four flower sprays, some as many as nine, the 
 new shoots growing up from below, and coming to 
 as full expansion in their fresh quarters as if they 
 had never been disturbed. 
 
 A big beau-pot has a number of double Roman 
 narcissi treated in the same way ; and a third con- 
 tains paper-white narcissi. A thin green stick 
 should be inserted deep in the sand at the middle 
 of the pot, rising to within a few inches of the top 
 of the leaves, and to this stick each flower stem 
 can, if necessary, be tied back invisibly with a fine 
 green thread. It is worth while to take consider- 
 able preliminary pains with an arrangement of this 
 sort, because it will last in good condition for two 
 or three weeks at least, and will be immensely 
 admired by all who see it. 
 
 I daresay there are gardens and greenhouses 
 which are so large in extent and so well stocked 
 that they may be depended upon to give sufficient 
 results without the need of any special expenditure 
 of trouble. But the small gardener who, like 
 myself, wishes to get large results from a limited 
 space, will find that the secret of success lies in 
 unwearying effort. Nothing must be neglected at 
 any season of the year ; systematic culture and 
 
246 DECEMBER 
 
 tendance must become machine-like in their 
 regularity. This habit is easy enough to arrive 
 at when one begins to trace how failure comes 
 
 o 
 
 from disregard of elementary principles. For 
 instance, I rely on zonal pelargoniums to fill up 
 gaps in the last three months of the year. If we 
 fail to strike them early in March, delaying 
 propagation for a month or two, the plants will 
 not gather vitality enough in the summer to blossom 
 when I want them. They will do their best perhaps 
 in January and February, when bulbs are plentiful 
 and the geraniums are not so necessary as in the 
 darker days of late autumn. 
 
 No doubt the ideal practice would be to prolong 
 the season of things by having a succession to 
 come on when the first show is over. But again 
 to instance the useful pelargonium fifty pots of 
 these timed to blossom in February, and kept 
 carefully disbudded until early in the year, would 
 take up room on the shelves which should be 
 devoted to plants flowering before that date. Of 
 course, if the greenhouse area is considerable this 
 may and should be done ; but in a limited space 
 economy of time and of room is so important that 
 it would not pay the amateur to deviate from the 
 rules which common sense lays down in the matter. 
 
 And to the owner of a small house I may give 
 another useful hint. There is no room in it for 
 rubbish, or even for inferior varieties. If a 
 geranium flowers sparsely or with a short footstalk 
 which makes it useless for cutting, throw it away. 
 If cinerarias come a bad colour, go to a different 
 seedsman for your next seed. If freesias are not 
 
DECEMBER 247 
 
 full grown, reject them; if chrysanthemums are 
 bad doers, fling them on the dust heap. Never 
 keep a plant that is not one of the best of its kind 
 for your purpose. It is just as expensive to 
 keep a greenhouse fire going, and labour paid, for 
 bad things as for good things, and the results are 
 not comparable. I have been at some pains to 
 impress this maxim on Sterculus for several years 
 past, and I was amused not long since to discover 
 that at last he had learnt his lesson. I happened 
 to make inquiries for a plant that he had long 
 cherished against my reiterated wishes, but I had 
 not liked to condemn it utterly, as he had received 
 it from somebody as a present to himself, and had 
 passed it on to the greenhouse. 
 
 " What / says," he remarked, eyeing me severely, 
 as though he was repeating an oft-given lesson to 
 a refractory pupil " what / says is that we haven't 
 got room enough in a little place like ours for 
 rubbish. Bad things is as expensive to grow 
 as good things, and I don't hold wi' having nothing 
 but the best." 
 
 I heartily agreed with him, and succeeded in 
 looking, I hope, as though the idea was an entirely 
 new one to me. The main thing was that he had 
 come round to sound views at last. 
 
 Dec. 26. We had a pleasant little party of three 
 last evening, Magdalen and ourselves. She, 
 usually so reserved, was full of life and gaiety, 
 which gave her another charm in my eyes. She is 
 always good to look at, with her tall, lissom figure 
 and beautiful face framed with its bright brown 
 hair ; but she is not always attractive to the general, 
 
248 DECEMBER 
 
 because she can be not a little repellent when the 
 mood takes her. But last night she was her 
 brightest and gayest self. There was no coldness 
 displayed for Jim's benefit, as has been so often 
 the case for a long time past, and he was allowed 
 to enjoy her society, if he would, without stint or 
 reserve. I told her about Nancy's scene with 
 Meshach, who now regards himself as her fortunate 
 lover, and we all laughed over it together. 
 
 "Come now, Magdalen," I said, " what would 
 you have done if you had been in Nancy's position?" 
 
 " What should I have done ? I should certainly 
 not have done as Nancy did, though perhaps she 
 is almost justified by the event." 
 
 " Wouldn't you have showed him that he cared, 
 and that you cared ? " 
 
 " Most certainly not, for I should not have cared." 
 
 " But if you had cared ? " 
 
 "If I had cared for him no one would have 
 known it, not even myself. Or if myself had had 
 a faint suspicion of it I should have treated myself 
 as a foolish child." 
 
 " But given the fact that they loved each other, 
 and that Nancy was convinced of it, don't you 
 think she did right ? " 
 
 "Oh, I daresay she did right for Nancy," said 
 Magdalen carelessly. " People's ideas vary, that 
 is all." 
 
 " But," I persisted, "you acknowledged that she 
 is justified by the event." 
 
 u I said almost justified perhaps. I don't think 
 any woman is justified in risking rejection by a 
 man." 
 
DECEMBER 249 
 
 " But you might also say, if you want to be 
 strictly reasonable, that no man is justified either 
 in risking a refusal from a woman. And where 
 should you be then ? " 
 
 " I should be exactly where I was before," 
 laughed Magdalen ; " but probably you mean where 
 would he be." 
 
 " Yes, where would he be ? " 
 
 "He would be just where he ought to be," said 
 Magdalen, with some heat, "at the feet of the 
 woman he loves. But if she loved him she would 
 see that he was not there long." 
 
 " But if she didn't love him ? " 
 
 " Oh, then it wouldn't matter." 
 
 " Yes, it would matter, for you would have placed 
 him in a position which you would consider humilia- 
 ting for her. You are not reasonable." 
 
 "It isn't a case for reasonableness. There is no 
 reason in any aspect of the position. If you want 
 reason you must have suitable marriages arranged 
 at a central bureau." 
 
 " But given the present state of things, I don't 
 see why a woman should not show a man that she 
 loves him." 
 
 "How should she show him when perhaps she 
 won't show her own heart ? No, he practically 
 commands the position in being the person who has 
 apparently the sole right of choosing. Let him 
 have its disadvantages, too, in being liable to 
 rejection." 
 
 " I don't think the least deserving man in the 
 world ought to be liable to rejection, if rejection is 
 so unpleasant as you seem to imagine. He ought 
 
250 DECEMBER 
 
 to know whether a woman loves him before he 
 asks." 
 
 " I think in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred 
 he does know, or he might know, at least, if he 
 chose to exercise common sense." 
 
 " But," I said, taking- her at a disadvantage, 
 " you contradict yourself, for you say that a woman 
 is so unwilling to be the only one who loves that 
 she will not own even to herself that she loves. If 
 she will not own it to herself, how shall she show it 
 to him ? And if she does not show it to him, how 
 shall he know it ? No, you don't expect him to 
 exercise common sense ; you expect him to be 
 superhuman, which is unreasonable." 
 
 " As I said before, reason has no place in the 
 matter," answered Magdalen loftily, "so that I 
 cannot be blamed for want of it. Where there is 
 no reason it would be superfluous to attempt to 
 manufacture it in the person of a single individual." 
 
 That is the way Magdalen gets out of difficulties 
 when she is hard pressed. Jim only laughed. 
 Like most men, he detests women with logical 
 minds, and a woman who could bring an argument 
 to a satisfactory and perfectly fair conclusion would 
 have no merit in his eyes. 
 
 After he had taken Magdalen back to the 
 Manor and had settled himself in an armchair for 
 his last pipe, I thought it advisable to continue the 
 conversation. 
 
 " Talking about Nancy," I said, "what do you 
 think of the matter ? Do you consider that she 
 was justified by the event ? " 
 
 " No, I do not," replied Jim. 
 
DECEMBER 251 
 
 " On what grounds ? " 
 
 " That by taking the initiative she lost something 
 so precious that its loss was irremediable." 
 
 "What did she lose?" 
 
 " If you don't know by instinct what she lost," 
 replied Jim, deliberately puffing away at his pipe, 
 " not all the explanation in the world would convey 
 it to you. But you do know." 
 
 " At any rate, I deny that you are right in 
 looking at the thing from that aspect. You are 
 old-fashioned and narrow and utterly mistaken. 
 You are conventional and ridiculous. You are " 
 
 " This is the sort of argument I really enjoy," 
 said Jim. " I was afraid I should lose my affection 
 for you when I heard you demolishing Magdalen's 
 fallacies. But now I know that you are no better 
 or no worse than she is, my mind is relieved 
 about you. It is bedtime. Shall I light your 
 candle?" 
 
 To attempt to get at Jim's real self is as futile as 
 the effort to reach the North Pole. 
 
 A capital occupation for December evenings is 
 the planning of effects for next summer. If annuals 
 are much used a good deal of thought will be 
 required for their right selection and juxtaposition, 
 and even if nothing but perennials are grown there 
 is still scope for some foresight and judgment. In 
 February the first of the seeds will have to be 
 sown, and these should not be chosen or ordered at 
 random, so that a long winter evening or two may 
 profitably be employed in thinking out a colour 
 scheme, or in devising fresh combinations. 
 
 Jt is a good plan just now to make a round of 
 
252 DECEMBER 
 
 the rose-beds and to remove faulty stakes. The 
 autumn gales will hardly have permitted every one 
 to remain intact, and the ground is soft enough 
 during most of December to allow weak supports to 
 be replaced by strong ones. In January we may be 
 frost bound, and the standard trees might have to 
 wait long for adequate support if their need of it is 
 not discovered now. 
 
 In the greenhouse and storehouse it is advisable 
 to look over begonia bulbs, dahlias, gladioli, and 
 other such things. Those that may be rotting will 
 be better on the rubbish heap, and care will prevent 
 others from following them. The damp fogs of the 
 month are in themselves sufficiently dangerous to 
 plants under glass without the added risk of decay- 
 ing vegetable matter within. Dead leaves should 
 be removed as soon as they fall, or sooner, and care 
 must be used in watering not to sprinkle the house 
 and stages unnecessarily. 
 
 Cinerarias coming into bloom will be the better 
 for weak applications of manure water every three 
 or four days, but it is important not to allow the 
 flowering zonal pelargoniums to enjoy this luxury. 
 Manure water is beneficial to them in their growing 
 season, when root and leaf have to be encouraged 
 to unite in making good plants. But if it is given 
 when they are in full flower they will immediately 
 put forth large efforts for improving their foliage, 
 and the flowers will greatly diminish in number 
 and perhaps cease altogether. I lost more than 
 one season's bloom through Sterculus's well-meant 
 generosity to them in early winter. 
 
 The best quality of bulbs is their perfect willing- 
 
DECEMBER 253 
 
 ness to remain in a cold frame, with proper pro- 
 tection, until the greenhouse is ready to receive 
 them. Twenty degrees of frost in the open will 
 not hurt hardy bulbs in well-protected frames. As 
 the soft-wooded plants go out of bloom, and are 
 either thrown away or hidden in some corner until 
 they require attention again, the boxes of bulbs 
 may be moved into the greenhouse to continue the 
 winter supply. Snowdrops are better left in the 
 frames until the buds are formed, or even until the 
 blossoms are partly expanded, and there are other 
 things which will not suffer under this treatment. 
 I have this winter two or three boxes of narcissi, 
 the double Roman and the paper -white, whose 
 flowers are actually opening in the frames, and 
 although this might not be possible in a severe and 
 continued frost, it is wonderful what a little extra 
 protection will do for bulbs. 
 
 There are various other things in bloom, though 
 not as yet in any quantity ; these are cyclamens, 
 freesias, cinerarias, arums, or calla Richardias, 
 Christmas roses, the scarlet Due van Tholl tulips, 
 scillas, and muscaris of sorts, chiefly the beautiful 
 Heavenly Blue variety. Chrysanthemums still 
 abound, thanks to the cold treatment which the 
 latest plants have had, and I expect to enjoy them 
 for quite another fortnight, though they will be but 
 few towards the end of it. 
 
 Another useful plant that has an extended flower- 
 ing season, and is now at its best in some of my 
 neighbours' houses, is the fibrous-rooted begonia 
 Gloire de Lorraine. I should work up a stock of 
 it but that I have discovered that we have not 
 warmth enough to flower it when I want it most. 
 
254 DECEMBER 255 
 
 Petunia has employed her Boxing Day to good 
 advantage by coming over to see me after an 
 absence of some weeks. She was rather amusing, 
 which is not her wont, unless without intention. 
 She told me that she had just come from the 
 Cottage Hospital at Oldborough, where she had 
 been asked to pay a visit to a protegee of her Vicar. 
 The woman was evidently suffering from some 
 injury to her arm, and Petunia asked what ailed it. 
 
 "Oh," replied the patient, "it was bitten by a 
 lady friend." 
 
 The hospital is situated, appropriately enough, 
 next to the churchyard, and a newly made grave 
 attracted Petunia's attention as she passed. Like a 
 good many other people, she can never resist the 
 temptation to examine funeral wreaths and their 
 inscriptions. The uppermost one bore a large card 
 inscribed 
 
 " With deep sympathy from his widow and children." 
 
 There is a touching as well as a humorous sugges- 
 tion about this. The survivors evidently were con- 
 vinced that they had the best of it, and sincerely 
 commiserated the corpse. 
 
 Petunia was very happy. Her affairs seem to be 
 arranging themselves comfortably, and I have no 
 doubt that before long the great news will be suffi- 
 ciently authorised to allow of its being announced 
 to who cares to hear it. But she is still a little 
 anxious. She dreamed three nights ago about her 
 toes, and as if this was not a sufficiently bad omen, 
 she dreamed the next night that she was eating 
 fish. So she has intervals of despair alternating 
 
DECEMBER 255 
 
 with her happiness. Where Petunia gets her super- 
 stitions from is always a marvel to me, but one may 
 do anything with her except laugh at her, and 
 luckily her narrative of hopes and fears passed off 
 without any discordant element. 
 
 Petunia has a new Vicar. He is a young gentle- 
 man of very pronounced High Church views, and 
 at present he appears to be alternately the pride 
 and the despair of his parishioners. Since he is 
 not essential to Petunia's well-being as I shall to 
 my dying day believe that for a while his predecessor 
 was she can enjoy a sly joke at his expense. It 
 seems that a poor woman of his flock lay dying, 
 and there was evidently on her mind a load of 
 which she could not be persuaded to unburden 
 herself. The Vicar, yearning to confess and absolve 
 her, lost no opportunity of pressing the poor thing 
 to tell him her trouble, which she promised one day 
 to do on the following morning, when, as the Vicar 
 said, the house would be quiet, and there would be 
 no hindrance to her confession. The dear young 
 man appeared by her bedside that day clad in his 
 ecclesiastical garments of surplice and cassock, and 
 after preliminary prayer he approached the momen- 
 tous subject. It was the first time that he had ever 
 succeeded in bringing one of his new parishioners 
 up to this point. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Mrs. Giles very feebly, " I've 
 had summat on my mind ever since I know'd I was 
 goin', an' now I'll tell 'ee what 'tis. Jack's all right, 
 but Harry's top-coat won't last the winter." 
 
 This good young man comes from a London 
 parish, and he does not yet know our Wessex 
 
256 DECEMBER 
 
 people. They have the religious instinct to a very 
 remarkable degree, but they can endure no human 
 interference between the soul and its Creator. This 
 stern individualism is a remnant of Puritanism. 
 
 Their religion is peculiar, and varies with the 
 circumstances of life ; the tenets are few but marked. 
 In early years quietness is the chief characteristic of 
 the virtuous person. It is the test by which he is 
 judged. A quiet man is almost of necessity on the 
 right road, unless he be an Irishman or a Roman 
 Catholic, in which case salvation is hardly considered 
 even a remote possibility for him. If the quiet 
 man goes to a place of worship, the case is a clear 
 one ; if he goes to half a dozen, it is clearer still. 
 He is on the right road. The rustic does not talk 
 of being saved nowadays, except in bigoted circles ; 
 quietness is the essential for the young man who is 
 credited with having "got religion," and it would 
 be unreasonable to look for much more from him. 
 
 The next step comes about middle age, and may, 
 for want of a better word, be termed Respectedness, 
 or Dignification, as Isaac Walton would call it. The 
 man respects himself more than he respects any 
 other person of his acquaintance. He shows every- 
 body he meets how fit it is that he should be 
 respected. His behaviour under all circumstances 
 is admirable. He takes in a newspaper and spells 
 it out to his friends in the intervals of work. 
 He accumulates piles of household goods, and is 
 always a maximum subscriber to parochial clothing 
 clubs. He attends all the village entertainments, 
 provided the price of admission is not too low ; he 
 could not be seen in a penny seat without loss of 
 
DECEMBER 257 
 
 self-respect, but a sixpenny one will invariably find 
 him. He is always in church on collection Sundays, 
 well dressed, admirably conducted, attending with a 
 detached reasonableness to the service. He is never 
 emotional ; he has no " conviction of sin," such as 
 his dissenting relatives suffer from ; he never talks 
 about getting to heaven, nor even thinks about it. 
 Personal dignification is his creed, and it carries him 
 over many a rough journey, and makes the way 
 smooth for him. No one would expect more of 
 him than this admirable position. 
 
 But when he is old, or when, being not yet old, 
 Death comes knocking for him, all is changed. 
 Public opinion is satisfied that a man shall live with 
 quietness and dignification for his religion, but it 
 is not satisfied that he should die with them. He 
 must find God on his deathbed. Every man and 
 woman who comes to see him points out his duty 
 in the matter. " You must think o' Heaven now, 
 master, because you've got naught else to look to," 
 is the invariable line of argument. And so, since 
 he has always done his simple duty, he clasps his 
 hands and says, "Angels! Glory!" and dies as 
 quietly as he lived, and everyone is happy about 
 him, and says he makes a beautiful corpse. 
 
 I don't think that Petunia's good young vicar 
 can appreciate this type of rustic. But it is a noble 
 type, nevertheless, instinct with that proportion and 
 form of self-control which alone is attainable by its 
 subject. The higher flights of ecstasy and self- 
 abnegation are not possible to him ; his carnal 
 will is brought into subjection in a diverse way 
 from that of his educated brother; his ideal is a 
 s 
 
258 DECEMBER 
 
 different one, perhaps a lower one, but he does his 
 best to live up to it. He has made a religion of his 
 own, suited to his workaday life with its limitations 
 and temptations, and through this religion, inade- 
 quate as we may be inclined to regard it, he finds 
 himself enabled to 
 
 " Move upward, working out the beast, 
 And let the ape and tiger die." 
 
 People are very fond of talking about the "good 
 old days." For my part, I confess myself no lauder 
 of the acted time, and I don't believe there ever 
 were any good old days. The days when men were 
 young seem good to them in retrospect, and that is 
 probably the extent of it. In the country we read 
 much in our daily newspapers, which come from 
 London, about the agricultural depression, but the 
 dweller in the wilderness is forced to admit that 
 this depression is not visible to the naked eye. The 
 occupier, at any rate, whether farmer or labourer, is 
 as flourishing as he chooses to be, though the actual 
 owner of the land is obliged to deny himself many 
 luxuries that were formerly his. As he is in a 
 minority, however, he gets but scant attention paid 
 to his impoverished condition, and, taken as a whole, 
 the days are better for the dweller on the land than 
 they ever before have been. But there were 
 certainly times when men in country places enjoyed 
 life more boisterously than they do now. If we 
 have anything to regret of the customs left behind 
 us in past ages, it is the games, the sports, which 
 gave life to the village green. Of these games not 
 one exists here at the present day, and the sole 
 
DECEMBER 261 
 
 link we have with pre- Reformation times is the 
 Christmas play which is still enacted by our village 
 mummers. It is preserved orally, and is passed on 
 thus from generation to generation. I have taken 
 it down from the lips of a member of an hereditary 
 mumming family, and append it here as I heard it 
 last night in our kitchen regions, and have heard it 
 almost every Christmas-time through my life. It 
 may be observed from internal evidence that the 
 characters were formerly more numerous than they 
 are in these degenerate days ; for the bold Turkish 
 Knight, to accommodate himself to the shrunken 
 number of the players, and perhaps also to suit the 
 exigencies of the tale and the necessity for a re- 
 cognition of British conquest everywhere, is rolled 
 into one with the Bold Foreign King. 
 
 The peaceful winter night is disturbed by the 
 sound of stealthy footsteps outside the drawing- 
 room windows, and presently, led by a concertina, 
 the preliminary chant breaks out 
 
 " God bless the master of this house, 
 
 I hope he is athin 
 An' if he is praay tell us zo, 
 An' zoon we 'ool begin. 
 
 Chorus With a hey dum dum, 
 With a hey dum dum, 
 With a hey dum dum de deny ; 
 Vor we be come this Christmas-time 
 A purpose to be merry. 
 
 " I hopes the missis is athin, 
 
 A-zittin' by the vire, 
 A-pittin' us poor mummers yer, 
 Out in the dirty mire. 
 
 Chorus With a hey dum dum, etc. 
 
262 DECEMBER 
 
 " We doan't come yer but wunst a year, 
 
 An' hopes 'tis no offence ; 
 An' if it is praay tell us zo, 
 An' zoon we ; ool go hence. 
 
 Chorus With a hey dum dum, etc." 
 
 The invitation to enter is given, and the mum- 
 mers go round to the kitchen, where presently the 
 members of the family and the servants are gathered 
 to witness the play. Each mummer enters singly 
 in a conventional order, and each when he has come 
 in proceeds to tramp round the room in a dizzy 
 circle, excepting while the floor is occupied by the 
 fight, when all except the combatants stand aside 
 for a while. 
 
 THE MUMMERS' PLAY. 
 
 Excursions without, followed by a knock at the door. Enter 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS, attired in motley of chintz, from his high- 
 crowned indefinite headgear depending fringes of coloured paper 
 reaching nearly to the waist, and partly concealing his features. 
 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. 
 
 In comes I, wold Veyther Christmas, 
 
 Welcome or welcome not ; 
 I hopes wold Veyther Christmas 
 
 'Ool never be forgot. 
 
 Christmas comes but wunst a year, 
 
 An' when it comes it brings good cheer ; 
 
 Roast beef, plum pudding, strong beer, mince pie, 
 
 Who likes that any better'n little Happy Jack'n I ? 
 
 In this room there shall be shown 
 The girtest battle as ever was known, 
 Between King Jarge an' the Turkish Knight, 
 Come over into old England vor to vight. 
 
 A room, a room ! I do assume 
 Vor my brave bwoys an' soldiers too ; 
 An' that's the reason why I zay 
 Walk in, King Jarge, an' clear thy way. 
 
DECEMBER 265 
 
 Enter KING GEORGE, attired in as near an approach as he dares 
 don to a modern military uniform. His manner is blustering 
 and aggressive. 
 
 KING GEORGE. 
 
 In comes I, King Jarge, 
 
 That man of kerrage bold ; 
 With my broad sword in my hand 
 I won ten thousand pounds in gold. 
 
 'Twas I that fought the fiery dragon, 
 An' brought en to the slaughter ; 
 
 'Twas I that won 
 
 The King of Egypt's daughter. 
 
 With my manhood zo brave, 
 
 An' my vallet zo true, 
 
 I've conquered armies an' nations, an' still I say, 
 I'll fight wi' any fightin' man as comes athin my way. 
 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. Walk in, thou Foreign King. 
 
 Enter THE FOREIGN KING, dressed somewhat like FATHER 
 CHRISTMAS as are nearly all the following characters but 
 with a blackface. His manner is as blatant as King George's 
 until his defeat at the champion's hands^ when he cringes in 
 proper form,) as England's enemies should everywhere do. 
 
 THE FOREIGN KING. 
 
 In comes I, the bold Foreign King, 
 Wi' my broad sword in my hand 
 I'll quickly make it swing. 
 Likewise I am the bold Turkish Knight, 
 Just come into old England vor to fight. 
 Let King Jarge that man of kerrage bold 
 Draw his sword ; 
 If his blood be hot 
 I'll quickly make it cold. 
 
 KING GEORGE. 
 
 Hold, thou Turkish Knight ! 
 Thou talkest very bold ; 
 But draw thy sword an' vight, 
 Or draw thy purse an' pay ; 
 Vor satisfaction I 'ool have 
 Avore thou goest away. 
 
266 
 
 DECEMBER 
 
 THE FOREIGN KING. Zatisfaction, King Jarge ? There is no 
 
 zatisfaction at all ; 
 
 Vor thee an' I 'ool battle to zee which of us on the vloor shall 
 virst vail. [A terrible fight ensues, and THE FOREIGN KING 
 
 falls on one knee. 
 
 "THEE AN' i 'OOL BATTLE" 
 
 THE FOREIGN KING. 
 
 Pardon me, pardon me, O King, I crave ! 
 Pardon me, King Jarge, an' vor ever 'ool I be thy slave. 
 
 [KING GEORGE pardons him, and they fight again. 
 THE FOREIGN KING is killed. 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Oh, King ! oh, King ! what hast thou done ? 
 Thou hast ruined me by killin' my only zon ! 
 
DECEMBER 
 
 267 
 
 KING GEORGE. Nay, Father, 'twas thy zon as gave me the 
 virst challenge. 
 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. Is there a doctor to be vound 
 To cure this man as lies bleedin' an' wounded on the ground ? 
 
 "MY NAME IS MISTER GRAY" 
 
 KING GEORGE. Yes, there is a doctor to be vound 
 To cure this man lyin' bleedin' an' wounded on the ground. 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. Who is he? 
 KING GEORGE. Peter Gray. 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. Walk in, Peter Gray. 
 
268 DECEMBER 
 
 Enter PETER GRAY. 
 
 PETER GRAY. Who are you a-callin' Peter Gray ? 
 My name is not Peter Gray, 
 My name is Mister Gray 
 Zo the people all zay. 
 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. Oh, doctor, doctor, what is thy fee ? 
 
 PETER GRAY. Ten guineas is my fee, 
 
 But fifty guineas I'll take of thee. 
 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. Take it all, doctor, but what canst thou 
 cure? 
 
 PETER GRAY. 
 
 I can cure the itch, the stitch, the palsy, an' the gout, 
 
 All pains athin an' all pains athout, 
 
 An' if this man hev got a bush in's toe I can pull en out. 
 
 Yes, I am a noble little doctor ; I am not one of them deceit- 
 ful quack doctors as walks from place to place a-zayin' what they 
 can do. What I doos I doos before you all; 'tis hard if you 
 cain't believe your own eyes. I've got a bottle here called the 
 Foster Drops. I'll put one drop on the tip of his tongue, an' 
 one drop on the palm of his hand, an' will zay to en, Arise ! 
 arise ! an' walk as quickly as thou canst ! 
 
 KING GEORGE (menacingly). Arise ! arise, an' get thee back 
 to thine own country, an' tell them that King Jarge can vight 
 ten thousand better men than thee. [THE FOREIGN KING rises. 
 All begin again to tramp in a circle round the room. 
 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. Walk in, Tall-an'-Smart. 
 
 Enter TALL-AND-SMART. 
 TALL-AND-SMART. 
 
 In comes I, bold Tall-an'-Smart, 
 I tells my mind wi' all my heart ; 
 My head is made of iron, 
 My body's lined wi' steel, 
 My trousers fits my legs zo tight, 
 My garters drags my heel. 
 
 Virst coir.es Christmas, an' then comes spring 
 I am a little jolly lad can either dance or zing. 
 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. Walk in, bold Granny-dear. 
 
ILL PUT ONE DROP ON THE TIP OF HIS TONGUE 1 
 
DECEMBER 
 
 Enter THE BOLD GRENADIER. 
 THE BOLD GRENADIER. 
 
 In comes I, bold Granny-dear, 
 Vor Tall-an'-Smart I do not vear ; 
 If his head is made of iron, 
 An' his body's lined wi' steel, 
 Vrom his head to his shoulders 
 I'll quickly make en veel. 
 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. Walk in, Happy Jack. 
 
 269 
 
 HAPPY JACK 
 
 Enter HAPPY JACK, a flag-basket containing a large rag doll and 
 several small ones slung over his back. 
 
 HAPPY JACK. In comes I, little Happy Jack, 
 
 Wi' my wife an' vam'ly at my back, 
 
270 DECEMBER 
 
 My vam'ly large, though I be small, 
 
 Every little helps us all. 
 
 Out o' nine I've got but vive, 
 
 An' half o' they be starved alive : 
 A cup o' Christmas ale will make us dance an' zing, 
 But money in our pocket's a much better thing. 
 Ladies an' gentlemen a-zettin' at your ease, 
 Give us a Christmas-box, just what you please. 
 
 FATHER CHRISTMAS. Walk in, Mazzant binmt. 
 
 Enter HIM-AS-AIN'T-BEEN-IN-YET. 
 HIM-AS-AIN'T-BEEN-IN-YET. 
 
 In walks I as an't bin 'it, 
 
 Wi' my girt head an' little wit, 
 
 My head zo big, my wit zo small 
 
 I've brought my viddle to please 'ee all. 
 
 Green sleeves, yellow lace, 
 
 Come all you mummers, dance apace, 
 
 The viddler is in great distress 
 
 Vor want of a little money. 
 
 [Polka, in which all take part. 
 
JANUARY 
 
 Jan. y I ^HERE are few records more interesting, 
 2. A to my mind, than those dealing with the 
 history of the place in which one lives. 
 
 The documentary history of this parish goes 
 back very far, for we learn that a portion of 
 it belonged to the monastery of Abingdon in the 
 seventh century. Ceadwalla, the monkish King of 
 Wessex, granted property here to the monastery in 
 A.D. 686, and the grant was confirmed by Cenwulf, 
 King of Mercia, in A.D. 821. Tradition tells of a 
 temporary or a summer camp here in Roman days. 
 The high ridge between two valleys was admirably 
 suited to such a position for surveying purposes, 
 commanding the country westward beyond Marl- 
 borough, and on the north and east almost as far. 
 It is easy to weave a pretty story round a silver 
 coin of the Republic, B.C. circa 217, which was dug 
 up in a field just below the camp some thirty or 
 forty years since. It is a coin common enough 
 with collectors, but is the only one of its kind 
 ever found in England, and it is probable that it 
 was brought over by a Roman soldier during the 
 Occupation as a keepsake, and lost by him in the 
 meadow where it was so many centuries later found. 
 There may have been much wailing and heart- 
 
 271 
 
272 JANUARY 
 
 searching in consequence, and I should like to 
 know what the Roman maiden said when her swain 
 turned up on Tiber's banks without her gage of love. 
 
 The parish consists of six small villages, with 
 a total population in these days of about eight 
 hundred souls. Various Saxon charters are extant 
 which deal with lands in the parish, and in Domes- 
 day it is recorded that a principal owner of property 
 was a certain Editha, who may possibly have been 
 the widow of Edward the Confessor. She appears 
 to have had power to deal with the place as she 
 chose, for the book in its quaint phraseology tells 
 us that " Editha herself might go where she 
 pleased," or, in other words, that she had the 
 privilege of alienating the property if she should 
 desire to do so. 
 
 Until the year 1226 that portion of the parish 
 which lies about the River Kennet was included 
 within the confines of Windsor Forest, although it 
 lay at least forty miles from the royal domain. 
 It was disafforested in the year mentioned, but it 
 is evident that the King was still liable to come 
 hunting here, for in 1284 William Lovell held two 
 carucates of land by the sergeanty of keeping a 
 kennel of hounds at the King's cost. There is still 
 a lonely cot called King's Barn in the part of the 
 parish in which William Lovell's manor lay, but I 
 doubt if its name has been handed down from the 
 thirteenth century. Local tradition asserts that it 
 was the abode of a certain Daddy King, who died 
 a violent death, and still haunts the lane near 
 King's Barn. He wandered when in his cups into 
 a shallow dip-hole on the hillside, and falling on 
 
JANUARY 273 
 
 his face, was suffocated there. He is said to have 
 been a very small man, and the last person who 
 saw his wraith, about half a century since, could 
 bring as sole evidence his belief that the shade 
 which appeared to him was "about the height of 
 a donkey." But this testimony has always been 
 considered quite conclusive, for was not Daddy 
 King locally reported to have been an abnormally 
 small man ? 
 
 William Lovell's manor was a portion of that 
 property which belonged nearly a hundred years 
 after his time to William Danvers, who in 1353 
 alienated his possessions to King Edward III., 
 with a proviso that the King should direct masses 
 to be said for William Danvers' soul at the Royal 
 Chapel of Windsor for ever. I fear this pious 
 arrangement has lapsed, and that the only eventual 
 gainers by the proceeding were the Royal Family, 
 for the King promptly made a provision or part 
 of a provision for his daughter Isabella out of 
 the property in question, as recorded in a Pipe 
 Roll of 1360. Queen Katherine of Aragon came 
 in for the estate at a later date, and so, after her, 
 did Lady Jane Seymour Queen Joan of England, 
 as she is called by the chroniclers. 
 
 A knight's fee in the parish was held early in the 
 fifteenth century by a certain Richard Abberbury, 
 a near relative probably a son of Sir Richard 
 Abberbury, the guardian during his minority of 
 King Richard II. Richard Abberbury the younger 
 had married, about 1382, Alice, widow of Edmund 
 Danvers of Chilton, and a few" years later appears 
 to have been living at Donnington, some four miles 
 T 
 
2/4 JANUARY 
 
 from this parish, a fine property which he sold in 
 1415 to Thomas Chaucer, who is supposed to have 
 been a son of the poet, Geoffrey Chaucer. To this 
 Richard Abberbury, John of Gaunt, in 1397, be- 
 queathed a legacy of fifty marks, and a helmet 
 which is said to have belonged to him is now in 
 the Tower of London. 
 
 When Henry VIII. dissolved the monasteries 
 the Abbot of Abingdon was one of the first to 
 yield to his Sovereign's command, and to give 
 up the Church property in his keeping. Henry 
 accordingly became possessed of a more consider- 
 able property in this parish. In 1561 Queen 
 Elizabeth granted the land which had been 
 formerly parcel of the monastery's possessions, and 
 which her " dearest father" had leased to Sir 
 Thomas Parry, Kt. (Councillor and Treasurer of 
 the Royal Household), to this Sir Thomas's son 
 Thomas, who was himself also knighted at some 
 subsequent date, and appointed Chancellor of 
 the Duchy of Lancaster, Sheriff of Berks, and 
 Ambassador to France. He was buried in West- 
 minster Abbey in 1616. Sir Thomas got into 
 pecuniary difficulties before he died, and in 1590 
 sold the reversion of his lands, after his wife's and 
 his own demises, to his brother-in-law, Sir Thomas 
 Knyvett, of Ashwellthorpe, Norfolk. In Chancery 
 Bills and Answers, 1616, there is a piteous appeal 
 for a provision from Sir Thomas's natural son, 
 Samuel Parry, who seems to have been a con- 
 siderable loser by his father's death : 
 
 "Whereas the said Sir Thomas Parry did keepe your 
 Orator with all needful allowances of habitation, meate, 
 
JANUARY 275 
 
 drinke, and expenses, and did direct the course of your 
 said Orator his life, that albeit he being bred in Litterature 
 and very good fassion by the said Sir Thomas his direc- 
 tion, did not apply himself to any profession, but Sir 
 Thomas Parry said your Orator shold depend upon the 
 honorable care of him the said Sir Thomas, your Orator 
 having taken to wife a gentlewoman of good birth hath 
 by her Tenn children." 
 
 He pleads for a promised provision of 40 per 
 annum out of the estates, but I have not succeeded 
 in finding any record to prove whether he got it 
 or no. 
 
 Sir Thomas Knyvett never came into actual 
 possession of the property, for he, also falling into 
 debt, assigned his reversion for a good round sum 
 to a wealthy citizen and Lord Mayor of London 
 named Sir Francis Jones, of whom the present lord 
 of the manor is the representative. 
 
 There was probably a church here from a very 
 early date. The parish church until fifty years ago 
 had for its north wall a portion of the old Norman 
 masonry, and when this wall was taken down 
 remnants of an older foundation and indications 
 of burials beneath showed that there had been an 
 earlier edifice on or near the spot. The tower of 
 the chapel of ease exhibits to this day the 
 veritable work of Saxon builders, and until com- 
 paratively recently the sole means of entrance to 
 it was by a doorway high up in the wall of the 
 tower. A platform to support a beacon fire 
 formed the topmost storey. The churchyard lies 
 around the parish church, and I have calculated 
 that at least twenty thousand bodies rest in that 
 one small acre of ground. 
 
276 JANUARY 
 
 The Parish Registers are interesting reading for 
 the genealogist, and are practically continuous from 
 the year 1559, though entries are sparse during the 
 Protectorate. The official transcribers, when copy- 
 ing from the old paper books into the parchment 
 volumes ordered for use from 1603 onward, have 
 omitted many details which they considered trivial, 
 such as burials in woollen and the like, and the 
 Registers are therefore robbed of interest in this 
 respect. But as a collection of names they are 
 very valuable. Perhaps one of the most curious 
 entries is that of a comparatively recent marriage, 
 of which the following is an abstract : 
 
 o 
 
 " Richard Habgood of this Parish, Batchelor, and 
 Hannah Eyles of the Parish of Speen, Widow, were 
 married in this Church by Licence this Sixteenth Day of 
 November in the Year One Thousand Seven Hundred 
 and Seventy two, by me T. Shirley, Rector." 
 
 In the margin, in Mr. Shirley's handwriting, are 
 the words " H. Snell," which in the abstract of the 
 marriage register are expanded into " Han. Snell, 
 Soldier." 
 
 Hannah Snell was a famous adventuress who 
 was born at Worcester in the year 1723. In 1744 
 she married a Dutch sailor named James Summs, 
 but owing to his evil conduct and desertion, she 
 was forced to seek her own living, and in the 
 following year, under a sufficient disguise, she en- 
 listed as a soldier in a regiment quartered at 
 Carlisle. Not liking her companions, however, she 
 deserted, and took service at Portsmouth as a 
 marine, in which capacity she seems to have served 
 for five years without any discovery of her sex. 
 
JANUARY 277 
 
 She obtained pensions from both services, and in 
 1759 married a man named Eyles ; her third 
 husband, whose existence is not, so far as I can 
 judge, known to historians, being the Richard Hab- 
 good recorded in our Registers. It is probable that 
 she survived him, as she died in 1792 an inmate of 
 Chelsea Hospital, where she was buried. 
 
 Jan. 20. January is, or should be, the month 
 of flowers. There are few of the best winter- 
 blooming plants that cannot be had now in perfec- 
 tion, though, strangely enough, it is the time of 
 greatest leanness in most greenhouses. The fault 
 lies with the amateur who crowds his house with 
 things that bloom when flowers under glass are not 
 valuable. Something is due also to that mistaken 
 
 o 
 
 economy which prevents the small amount of 
 expenditure necessary for a January show mis- 
 taken, because the joy of coming into one's sitting- 
 rooms from a walk or drive in snow and sleet and 
 general discomfort, and finding them crammed with 
 yellow daffodils, is one hardly to be matched among 
 life's simpler pleasures. 
 
 January is the time of fruition after the labours 
 of three previous seasons. It is also a period of 
 partial idleness, for though much planning may then 
 be done, actual work, except that of the moment, 
 is almost at a standstill. There are few seeds to 
 be sown, little propagating except of chrysanthe- 
 mums is advisable, and planting in general is at 
 a standstill. Enjoyment without labour and with- 
 out anxiety is so seldom within the grasp of the 
 mortal that so good an opportunity for it should 
 not be lightly flung aside. 
 
278 JANUARY 
 
 But if the time is one of fruition it is also one of 
 criticism, of weeding, of ruthless sitting in judg- 
 ment. Worthless varieties of bulbs have betrayed 
 themselves, and a bad mark must be placed against 
 their names. Plants which need more heat than 
 the greenhouse can supply must be got rid of. 
 Others which blossom late must be noted, that due 
 consideration may be given to the proportion of 
 their value for winter use. A plant, for instance, 
 which flowers in March is worth perhaps a tenth 
 part of one which flowers in January. Unless the 
 greenhouse space is practically unlimited, the former 
 should make way for the latter kind of plant ; but 
 it is easy enough, I find, to give oneself good 
 advice, and difficult indeed to accept and to act 
 upon it. Every winter I record a vow that I will 
 never again grow this or that variety of bulb, and 
 every summer the temptation of the growers' 
 catalogues proves too strong for me. Here and 
 now, for instance, I have three different kinds of 
 yellow tulip in bloom ; they are Chrysolora, yellow 
 Pottebakker, and Mon Tresor, and there is no 
 comparison between them in point of value. The 
 first comes a little smaller than the others, but in 
 the amateur's hands it is infinitely superior to them 
 in shape, texture, and habit. In these pages I 
 register a new resolve, which is the old that I will 
 grow for the future no single yellow tulip under 
 glass except Chrysolora, which is less subject to 
 vicissitude and to the ravages of fly than any other, 
 and generously gives me its best even in circum- 
 stances which the tulip as a species dislikes so 
 intensely as those attending its forcing. 
 
JANUARY 279 
 
 Glorious are the daffodils now in flower in my 
 little greenhouse. I have tried the new poeticus 
 poetarum this year, and though it has been a sad 
 failure it has shown me what a beautiful thing it 
 would be in happier times. It has a very delicate 
 perianth with a gorgeous stained cup, and I hope 
 to obtain some success with it out of doors if not 
 under glass. 
 
 But if there is a failure or two there are many 
 successes, for I do not think that any other daffodils 
 have cheated me of a flower. The ordinary poeticus 
 ornatus is perfect, and is now in full bloom, together 
 with a dozen or more other varieties. Here is a 
 list of them : 
 
 Narcissus^ double Roman. 
 
 N. Paper White. 
 
 N. Poeticus ornatus. 
 
 N. Incomparabilis. 
 
 N. Bacon and Eggs. 
 
 N. Obvallaris. 
 
 N. Spurius. 
 
 N. Cynosure. 
 
 N. Figaro. 
 
 N. Stella. 
 
 N. Barrii conspicuus. 
 
 N. Princeps. 
 
 N. Horsfieldii. 
 
 N. Rugulosus. 
 
 N. Golden Spur. 
 
 Of other bulbs there are blue and maize-coloured 
 Italian hyacinths, grape hyacinths, including two 
 beautiful new varieties, called respectively azureum 
 and Heavenly Blue; scillas, snowdrops, freesias, and 
 sweet jonquils. Various tulips there are also, though 
 some experimental kinds must be acknowledged 
 
280 JANUARY 
 
 relative failures ; La Reine, however, is never a 
 failure, and it is very fine this winter. There are 
 other minor bulbs, all of which are pretty and some 
 well worth growing, while others take up more room 
 than one is justified in giving them. Of these last 
 are the small hoop-petticoat narcissi, various snow- 
 flakes and varieties of squills. But everyone should 
 grow the white dog's-tooth violet erythronium 
 citrinum is its catalogued name. The leaves are hand- 
 
 o 
 
 some, faintly spotted with brown, and they stand 
 up boldly round the flower stem, which bears two 
 or more blossoms, creamy in colour with a yellow- 
 stained centre. Several bulbs in a five-inch pot 
 make a good show, and few things are prettier than 
 their graceful flowers, in shape and size somewhat 
 resembling those of the clematis montana. 
 
 Lilies of the valley are so often a failure that a 
 few words must be said about their culture. I have 
 tried more than one way of forcing them, but in 
 none have I been successful except in that which 
 provides a great heat for them. Lilies come from 
 the salesmen early in November. If the weather 
 at the time is frosty, the crowns may be laid in an 
 exposed position on the grass for a night or two, as 
 a few degrees of cold helps them to blossom. As 
 soon as they have had their baptism of frost, they 
 may be potted up loosely in five-inch pots, as many 
 crowns being put in as the pots will hold without 
 squeezing. The tips of the crowns should stand up 
 above the surface of the soil, and should be covered 
 over with a good handful of moss or cocoa fibre, 
 and an inverted pot placed over each pot of bulbs. 
 They should then be plunged in a bottom tempera- 
 
JANUARY 281 
 
 ture of 80 to 90, and the covering fibre must be 
 syringed several times a day to keep the tops moist. 
 If the temperature is lower than I have indicated, 
 the leaves will probably not appear until the blossoms 
 are over, but by forcing in a steadily high tempera- 
 ture both will come together. Most persons will 
 object that they cannot command so high a tempera- 
 ture in an ordinary greenhouse. I used to think so 
 myself until I came to make experiments. Pots on 
 an open stage, standing high above the stove, will 
 probably not find themselves in anything warmer 
 than, perhaps, 50, but a good plunge set closely 
 over the stove and kept thoroughly moist will often 
 run the thermometer up to 90 immediately above 
 the greatest point of warmth. 
 
 It is of no 'Use, however, to attempt to force lilies 
 in this temperature unless means can be taken to 
 prevent their becoming dry. The roots as well as 
 the tops must be kept moist by a constant applica- 
 tion of the watering-pot and the syringe respectively. 
 When the crowns have started about a couple of 
 inches, light can be gradually admitted, until event- 
 ually full exposure is permissible. 
 
 I have been planting a new bed of lilies of the 
 valley in the open this winter, after two previous 
 failures on the same piece of ground. It is odd 
 that very often this flower will not thrive in spots 
 which appear in every respect suited to it. The 
 aspect may be right, the soil perfect, the drainage 
 adequate, and yet the result may be unmitigated 
 failure. Three years ago I planted several hun- 
 dreds of crowns in an apparently suitable spot, and 
 gave them the liquid manure which they love as 
 
282 JANUARY 
 
 frequently as they were likely to require it ; for lilies 
 do not care for a heavy dressing of stable stuff in 
 the winter. The tips of their crowns should be 
 always exposed to light and air, for they love to see 
 the world all the year round, so that nourishment 
 should be administered in liquid form. Having 
 thus provided carefully for their wants the more 
 carefully because they were a costly new variety 
 I watched them dwindling away to nothingness 
 through three seasons. The first spring there was 
 a wealth of leaves ; the second there were compara- 
 tively few ; the third I succeeded in counting twelve 
 sprays, and never a flower worthy of the name 
 throughout the whole of that time. I am willing to 
 ascribe the failure to the fact that the variety was, 
 as I have said, a new one, that known as Fortin's, 
 so I have lately made a fresh plantation with the 
 old common sort, and hope for better results with 
 it. " There's a deal of deception in ahdvertyse- 
 ments," as poor old Mr. Tyler used to say, and I 
 cannot deny that in the matter of garden stuff I 
 have been befooled by them many a time and oft. 
 
 Jan. 22. A snap of cold weather has made me 
 anxious for my standard roses, and I have tied 
 wisps of bracken among their heads. The bush 
 plants do not require this care, as they are carefully 
 earthed up and well mulched, so that even if the 
 branches die back fresh shoots will spring from the 
 crowns. This hard weather has put a stop to the 
 indefatigable outdoor labours of Sterculus, who is 
 a miserable man in consequence. With so little 
 glass as we possess his industrious soul is harassed 
 by enforced idleness, though he tries hard to make 
 
JANUARY 283 
 
 work enough in the greenhouse to support his 
 ardent spirit. He is almost as fond of potting-soils 
 as of manure, and has laid in an enormous stock of 
 these, which he is now turning over and preparing 
 for spring use. We cut turves from a sound pasture 
 every year, and lay them by, stacked in ridges, to 
 mature. In autumn oak and beech leaves are 
 collected, and penned in a hurdle enclosure, for the 
 same purpose. When both have reached the proper 
 condition, which is in not less time than a year, 
 Sterculus enjoys himself, as he is doing to-day, by 
 amalgamating them. Two parts of the turf mould, 
 two of the leaf mould, one of material from a spent 
 hotbed, and one of sharp, white sand make susten- 
 ance " fit for a king," as he says. The garden 
 boy is kept busy collecting moss from the nearest 
 wood, and pounding up old pots to the proper size 
 for drainage ; labels are being cleaned and painted, 
 and everything got into order for the day when 
 they will be required. 
 
 How irritating it is to have an unmitigated 
 failure ! Fond as I am of giving myself good 
 advice I frequently find myself doing all kinds of 
 deceitful things to persuade myself that I need not 
 take it. I have often seen the beautiful Bermuda 
 buttercup growing and flowering bravely in a 
 friend's greenhouse in January, and while admiring 
 I have said severely to myself, " You will be ex- 
 tremely foolish if you spend money on any of those 
 bulbs, for you know perfectly well that your green- 
 house is not warm enough for them." Last year 
 when looking over my catalogue I marked the 
 Oxalis Bermudiana, at the same time assuring my- 
 
284 JANUARY 
 
 self that my notes did not mean anything, for I 
 begin by marking all the plants I should like to 
 have, and then winnow them down to the things 
 that I must have. But when the time came for 
 sending my list to the salesman in August, I found 
 myself in a great hurry, and tried to think that 
 I had no time to look through it and correct it. 
 " Of course," said the tempter, " there are one or 
 two things that you may have left in error, but 
 time is valuable ; there is so much to be done. 
 Better leave the list as it is. There cannot be 
 more than one or two things that you did not mean 
 to order." One or two ! They have seemed like 
 a hundred when I found them taking up room that 
 would have been better given to other plants. This 
 buttercup, for instance, seems to fill a shelf itself, 
 though there are only two pots of it ; but they are 
 large nine -inch pots, and each contains a dozen 
 tubers. The foliage is beautiful, the colour of the 
 flowers perfect, but alas ! they never leave the bud 
 stage, because my greenhouse is not warm enough 
 for them. In March they will have a second period 
 of flowering, and will be a gorgeous mass of colour, 
 but I shall have outdoor things by that time, 
 and these will have lost some of their value in 
 consequence. 
 
 The violets have flowered well, but their stems 
 are getting short, so the soil round those in frames 
 has been stirred, and some good old manure pricked 
 in among them. When the cold snap is over and 
 they yield their blooms again, they will be greatly 
 improved in consequence of this attention. Chinese 
 pseonies also have been heavily top dressed with 
 
JANUARY 285 
 
 stable stuff and charred refuse ; they have now been 
 planted for four years, and have made splendid 
 clumps. The flowering of a paeony depends 
 entirely upon the strength of the stool, and there 
 is no plant in the garden which benefits by top 
 dressing more than this. 
 
 I have looked through all the chrysanthemum 
 plants which have been turned into the frames as 
 they went out of bloom, and have kept back two 
 of each variety from which to propagate, consigning 
 all the rest to the rubbish heap. We keep these 
 stools as cool as possible, and it must be a hard 
 winter that entails their being left in the green- 
 house for propagating, our frames being well pro- 
 tected except from severe and long-continued cold. 
 The colder the young plants are kept, short of 
 actual frost, the better they will be, and I can only 
 recollect one winter when I lost them from frost- 
 bite ; the following autumn the results were not 
 appreciably less, for cuttings taken in February 
 and March, if the early ones fail, prove quite as 
 satisfactory in the end to the amateur who does 
 .not go in for showing. We are striking about 
 four cuttings round the sides of four-inch pots; and 
 as soon as the plants show signs of growth they 
 will be separately potted in three-inch size, and 
 given a shift as often as they require it until 
 their final move in June. Seeds are being 
 sown of various late-blooming things, such as snap- 
 dragons, tobacco plants, dianthuses, and other 
 flowers which may be wanted in the summer to 
 fill gaps in the borders and carry the blossoming 
 season into the autumn months. I have succeeded 
 
286 JANUARY 
 
 in persuading myself that an herbaceous garden, once 
 planted, gives the maximum of good results with 
 the minimum of labour ; but there is no denying 
 that a few packets of annuals judiciously sown in 
 the borders in April, and a few clumps of late 
 things worked in among the early-flowering plants 
 in June, are needed to ensure a succession 
 throughout the summer. At the same time these 
 ought to be such as would be naturally expected 
 in an herbaceous border. I found myself once at 
 a garden-party given by a millionaire on the other 
 side of the county, and everyone was saying, "Have 
 you seen the herbaceous border? Be sure not to 
 miss the herbaceous border." In the course of 
 wanderings between alleys of chopped glass and 
 brick and beds of calceolarias and pelargoniums, 
 in the search for something that really seemed to 
 live a natural life, I came suddenly upon the herb- 
 aceous border. But what a border ! To be sure 
 it was a blaze of colour, such as, in unregenerate 
 moments, the keen gardener is apt to dream of as 
 ideal. But the first feeling of surprise became in 
 a moment a shock of pain, for the whole thing was 
 a cry of inharmonious distress. The perennial 
 things, phloxes, delphiniums, and the like were of 
 the best and the most expensive, but there was not 
 a plant visible that had gone out of bloom, or any 
 that might be expected to come into bloom later, 
 for the whole display was carefully arranged for the 
 one month that his lordship chose to inhabit this 
 particular house. There was a back row of dahlias 
 and other tall things mixed with the phloxes, a 
 middle row of cannas, tobaccos, zinnias, and 
 
JANUARY 287 
 
 a hundred others jostling the honest snapdragons 
 and hybrid pentstemons, and in the front there blazed 
 petunias, pelargoniums, stocks, marigolds, and count- 
 less more varieties of tender things crowding the 
 pansies and the campanulas and the funkias to their 
 undeserved extinction. In the whole there was no 
 repose, no nature, no suggestion of past beauty or 
 coming glow which makes the herbaceous garden 
 in its natural state a real companion, with its 
 promise of life and its threat of death as real as 
 any of our own, and as sad or as happy. I do not 
 want that sort of perennial border, but I am obliged 
 to confess that a little judicious supplement in late 
 spring and early summer with harmonious additions 
 is necessary for the after-appearance of the garden 
 picture. 
 
 Jan. 25. I have just sent off to a friend in town 
 a glorious box of flowers which might rejoice the 
 heart of a misanthrope. It was one of those large 
 dressmaker's boxes in which they send home gowns, 
 and one feels no small degree of pride in the power 
 to fill so considerable a receptacle at this time of 
 year. " Very good for little people," says Sterculus, 
 hugging himself with natural pride, as he sees the 
 basketful of blooms of which the greenhouse is 
 reft to do him honour in the metropolis, as he 
 thinks. I find there is only one way of packing 
 flowers to ensure their arriving in a perfectly fresh 
 condition. They are cut several hours before they 
 are wanted, or perhaps even overnight, and placed 
 in large bowls of water, so that they may absorb all 
 they can before the journey. Then the stems are 
 dried, and each variety is tied up in a good-sized 
 
288 JANUARY 
 
 bunch with bast or soft worsted, and finally every 
 bunch is closely stitched down with the yarn to the 
 bottom and top and sides of the box. They touch 
 each other, but do not overlap, and being firmly 
 fixed and sufficiently moist to keep the life in them 
 for a good many hours, they reach town as fresh as 
 they left the country. 
 
 Yesterday I saw the best arrangement of dried 
 flowers which I have ever beheld, and yet it was 
 done with only three varieties, and those quite com- 
 mon and easy to grow, the whole secret being in 
 its bold arrangement. The large jar which held 
 them was of plain red earthen material, and stand- 
 ing wide rather than high in it were large bunches 
 of cherry lanterns and honesty, each grouped boldly 
 with no suspicion of spottiness, and both connected 
 and softened by sprays of statice mingled through- 
 out. It had been done by a keen lover of flowers, 
 and the result was perfectly good. 
 
 I went down to dinner last night with a newly-local 
 young gentleman who bored me almost to death by 
 talking for an hour or more about shootin' and 
 huntin'. About the time of dessert, however, when 
 he had finished his say and began to cast about in 
 his mind for a topic likely to interest me in return 
 for my kindness in listening to him, he embarked 
 upon the subjects of ethnic distribution and local 
 history, and the following dialogue took place : 
 
 " Interestin' part of the country this, ain't it ? " 
 
 " Very interesting ; but why this part of the 
 country specially ? " 
 
 " Oh, because hist'ry began here, don'tcherknow; 
 early colonists and that sorterthing." 
 
JANUARY 289 
 
 "Oh, I didn't know." 
 
 "What! not about King Alfred? He was the first 
 man that settled in England and took possession of 
 these parts, don'tchersee ? There wasn't anybody 
 here till he came, and it's so jolly to feel that we 
 live in the oldest inhabited part of the country. 
 Gives you a kinder feelin' that you've come to 
 the right place, don'tcherknow." 
 
 And until we left the dining-room he was kind 
 
 " INTERESTIN' PART OF THE COUNTRY THIS" 
 
 enough to instruct me at large upon this interesting 
 topic, and I am free to admit that I enjoyed myself 
 thoroughly. 
 
 Jan. ji. I have just had a letter from Petunia 
 announcing her engagement to Mr. Thomas Spencer 
 Moreville, of Redlands Park, Surbiton, and Arden- 
 braughtantinny, Inverness-shire. I am delighted that 
 she is happy, but I cannot help feeling sorry for 
 poor Mr. Mumby, who, as I have now begun to 
 believe, has been shockingly treated. 
 u 
 
FEBRUARY 
 
 Feb. QTERCULUS has gone off early this 
 2 - wZ5 morning to pay a visit to his sick sister, 
 who lives a dozen miles or more away across the 
 North Downs. He dislikes holidays so much on 
 principle that it is always a surprise when he con- 
 sents to take one. I have the garden all to myself, 
 and have raided the greenhouse and cast out into 
 
 o 
 
 the void several worthless plants which no appeal 
 could prevail upon him to sacrifice. I shall have a 
 bad ten minutes to-morrow morning, but in the 
 meantime the night's frost will have set a seal 
 upon my decision and made the reinstatement of 
 his favourites impossible. 
 
 It makes one happy even to think of double 
 rockets ! They are among the most valuable of 
 flowers for scent and pleasant association, for they 
 are real old English things, I am convinced, though 
 the horticultural books assign them to Southern 
 Europe and Asia. If Shakespeare did not know 
 and love them I am sorry for him. But I am sure 
 that there was a. large patch of them in the garden 
 at New Place rockets must always be grown in 
 large patches and that he walked among them and 
 enjoyed their fragrance on many a morning of May 
 
 290 
 
FEBRUARY 291 
 
 and June. They are always associated in my mind 
 with Stratford-on-Avon, because the only week 
 I have spent there was made glorious by an 
 enormous bunch of them given me by a friendly 
 market-gardener. It was my first acquaintance 
 with the flower, and the remembrance of my huge 
 posy is the only really happy one which I can 
 conjure up in connection with the great poet's birth- 
 place, because no one who loves him should on any 
 account be persuaded to visit Stratford-on-Avon. 
 
 There are, of course, rockets and rockets. The 
 tall single ones are those most generally known, 
 and sometimes one sees whole borders invaded by 
 them, so easily do they propagate themselves by 
 scattering their seed far and wide around them. 
 These single kinds, however, are only fit for the 
 wild garden. But the double rocket is worthy of 
 the best place, and probably it would be more 
 grown than it is if it was not rather troublesome to 
 keep in stock. 
 
 February is as good a month as any for the 
 planting of rockets, though this may be done in 
 the autumn with equally favourable results. The 
 point to bear in mind is that at some period of its 
 yearly growth root-division must be resorted to, 
 for if left to itself the plant dies out and disappears. 
 In consequence of this demand it has been con- 
 demned as only half hardy, whereas it is in truth 
 one of the hardiest things in the a-arden. In some 
 
 o o 
 
 of the coldest parts of Scotland it flourishes 
 amazingly, and it will flourish equally well 
 wherever its idiosyncrasy is recognised and pro- 
 vided for. 
 
292 FEBRUARY 
 
 When the plant has done flowering many root- 
 buds push into growth, and at the time of propaga- 
 tion it is necessary to divide these portions as freely 
 as possible, including with each a part of the old 
 root. They may be replanted on the same spot, 
 each division a few inches from its neighbour, in 
 well-manured soil ; and it is necessary to bear in 
 mind that these things should not be spotted about 
 a border, but should have a certain amount of 
 ground given over solely to themselves. It may 
 not be more than a square yard that can be spared, 
 but however little may be appropriated to them, 
 it should be given ungrudgingly, because they will 
 well repay the consideration. 
 
 In some soils the double rocket will stand for two 
 years without requiring division, but in this circum- 
 stance it is well in the summer to stop the sprays 
 by overhead cutting back, so as to induce young- 
 growth from the main stem. This may also be 
 done if division of the roots is contemplated. 
 As the caterpillar is fond of this plant, a look-out 
 should be kept for it on the young foliage, where 
 it loves to seek out the heart, and to weaken 
 and perhaps destroy the very point of growth. 
 The best kind of double rocket to grow is the 
 old dwarf white variety, with rather small, compact 
 flowers. 
 
 Other things rarely seen in gardens are the new 
 forms of snowdrop. I suppose it is because the 
 old kind is so common, and consequently new bulbs 
 are seldom wanted, that the rarer ones are in- 
 frequently seen amongst us. Yet the ordinary 
 Galanthus nivalis is much inferior to these newer 
 
FEBRUARY 293 
 
 varieties, of which those\of Elwes and Foster rank 
 deservedly high. I have only tried Galanthus 
 Elwesii myself, and I find it quite satisfactory, 
 although it is planted in ground heavier than this 
 form is said to thrive in, for it likes a light soil, and 
 if peat can be added it is very happy indeed. My 
 Elwes bulbs are flowering well now, though the 
 old kind is not yet in bloom, and with them are 
 studding the grass many yellow winter aconites, 
 the first harbingers of spring. Horticultural man- 
 uals tell us to plant the winter aconite in good 
 heavy soil, but experience teaches that the horti- 
 culturist may sometimes nod, for my bulbs, which 
 are planted in good old loamy ground, are never 
 robust or free in their flowering, while those of a 
 neighbour which are grown beneath the eaves of 
 the house in dry poor soil have flowers double the 
 size of mine, and long stems which make them 
 unusually good for cutting a quality rarely present 
 in the winter aconite. 
 
 There is as yet little that can be done out of 
 doors, for the danger of winter's treachery is not 
 yet over, and it behoves the gardener to be wary 
 in his doings. This is a good time, however, to 
 look through the rose trees, and to remove all wiry, 
 twiggy wood, if it has not hitherto been done. In 
 the case of standards this is, in my opinion, almost 
 all the pruning that need be effected, but it is 
 very important ; good roses will not grow on thin, 
 wiry wood, and the more that is cut out the better 
 will be the result. But it is not only poor wood 
 that must be got rid of, but also superfluous wood, 
 to let in air and light to the heart of the tree ; 
 
294 FEBRUARY 
 
 Baroness Rothschild and her sports, for instance, 
 yield comparatively little thin growth, yet they 
 need the knife as much as many others, because 
 they grow so much wood at the heart. 
 
 A good hedge of sweet peas has just been drilled, 
 to come on in succession to those sown in Novem- 
 ber. They were of mixed sorts, while these are 
 all of mauve, and lilac, and purple shades, each in 
 its own patch, with some good white kinds inter- 
 spersed. The next sowing will be in April, when 
 a hedge of pinks and reds will be grown for late 
 cutting, as well as another of mixed varieties. 
 
 I should like to re-plant the carnations which 
 were not sufficiently well rooted to be taken last 
 autumn from their parent stems, but the weather is 
 threatening, and winter seems likely to come back 
 again ; so these must wait till we are more assured 
 of fair skies and genial winds, for the end of the 
 month will not be too late for this purpose. And 
 in the meantime I fear we shall have to resign the 
 
 o 
 
 hope of spring's coming, whose promise has been 
 in the air for a fortnight or more, and to get back 
 to greenhouse work, for the thermometer has fallen 
 twenty degrees since yesterday, and there is every 
 reason to fear a gale of snow and raging wind. 
 
 " Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 
 Thou art not so unkind 
 As man's ingratitude," 
 
 for at the first taste of spring the gardener hastens 
 to leave the sheltering greenhouse which has pro- 
 vided blossoms in abundance for several months, 
 and to seek his treasure in the open, grudging 
 every hour that has to be spent under a roof. Yet 
 
FEBRUARY 295 
 
 the greenhouse is still gay with things of far greater 
 beauty than could by dint of any effort be found 
 outside it. Nearly all the flowers that made Jan- 
 uary bright are still growing there, and it is only 
 that the natural impatience of the human finds it 
 irksome to bestow labour on the old, well-known 
 plants. Perhaps it is because the time of its 
 greatest usefulness is drawing to an end, and when 
 March comes in we shall depend for but few of our 
 joys on its sheltering care. Even now seed-pans 
 are jostling the growing pots, and the signs of the 
 time of propagation which is beginning for the en- 
 suing summer without, and for the following winter 
 within doors, are everywhere visible to the eye. 
 For February is the natural end of the year, being 
 the time of the completion of winter's promise as 
 well as that of the reiteration of summer's. Old 
 things pass away, and all things become new. 
 
 But although the time is approaching when the 
 greenhouse will hardly be a recognised factor in the 
 providing of the bulk of our flowers, yet there are 
 always wanted a certain number of pot plants for 
 the house, or to furnish a cold greenhouse if one 
 there is. The aim of the amateur, as I have con- 
 stantly iterated, is or should be to provide for the 
 summer season with things which do not take up 
 much room in winter on the stages and shelves. 
 From March to June the main supply for this 
 purpose may be the show pelargonium ; and from 
 June to October begonias, achimenes, and gloxinias, 
 which have been laid on their sides on the green- 
 house floor for several months, together with various 
 annuals suited to pot culture, which may now 
 
296 FEBRUARY 
 
 be sown. The pelargoniums have been crowded 
 unduly, yet not greatly to their hurt, first in cold 
 frames, and later in a light part of the greenhouse ; 
 but now they are given the best place, and are 
 treated as honoured guests. They are separated 
 out and regarded as individuals, and, if necessary, 
 are repotted without disturbance of the ball, and 
 presently buds will appear, the plants will ^cpand 
 generally, and good results will follow. One of 
 mine which, last year, received this necessarily 
 inadequate consideration in the early part of the 
 winter became later as good a plant as ever I 
 beheld, with nineteen large trusses adorning it, and 
 the others were not far behind. 
 
 To associate with these in the spring there will 
 be some belated primulas and zonal pelargoniums, 
 with a Harris lily or two, so that I may consider 
 the house provided for until the first days of 
 summer, and now is the time to make provision for 
 a succession. The tuberous begonias have to be 
 looked over, and any which show signs of growth 
 are knocked out of their soil and planted either in 
 boxes or separately in three-inch pots, in either case 
 to be repotted later. It is necessary to recollect 
 that the top of the corm must not be buried. 
 Moreover, nearly all begonias after their winter 
 rest are hollow-crowned, and in watering care must 
 be taken that this hollow is not filled with water, or 
 the bulb will rot. 
 
 Achimenes and gloxinias may be started in 
 succession to the begonias, but as they like rather 
 more warmth, it is well, if the house is now kept 
 cooler than in the early winter, to wait until the 
 
FEBRUARY 
 
 297 
 
 garden hotbed is made up, and to bring them on 
 with its aid. 
 
 Feb. j. Sterculus did not come home last night, 
 and this morning the whole village has been anxious 
 about him. But about midday he stumbled with 
 uncertain steps into his kitchen, where Mrs. Sterculus 
 was recounting to me the various deaths she had 
 
 STERCULUS SANK INTO THE NEAREST CHAIR 
 
 heard of in the snows of past winters. He flung 
 his hat on the table and sank into the nearest chair 
 without a greeting to either of us. 
 
 " Lor', what ails you ? " cried Mrs. Sterculus, and 
 at the question the poor man's hair stood upright 
 on his head, a phenomenon I have often heard of, 
 but never before witnessed. We stayed him with 
 
298 FEBRUARY 
 
 stimulants and comforted him with strong- broth, 
 and after a few hours' rest on the ancestral couch, 
 which is the glory of his kitchen, he felt sufficiently 
 restored to tell his tale. He has just been sitting 
 on the edge of one of Jim's study chairs recounting 
 the terrible experience of the night. 
 
 It appears that he left his sister's house about 
 twilight yesterday for the long walk home, which 
 lay first across a corner of the downs, and after- 
 wards by more familiar roads along the valley. 
 The snow, which had threatened for days, was 
 falling thickly, and he had some difficulty in finding 
 his way. When he had been walking for about 
 two hours, and had not yet left the high ground, he 
 knew that he had lost himself, so he pulled up 
 suddenly, and then continued to walk onward be- 
 cause no other course was open to him. It would 
 have been folly to go back, ignorant as he was of 
 his whereabouts. But he began to feel nervous, 
 for he is no braver in the dark than other Wessex 
 men, and he goes in sore fear of the unknown. 
 
 He felt the ground before him with his stick at 
 every step, for he knew there were treacherous 
 hollows on these uplands into which he might fall 
 and lie without discovery until the returning spring. 
 His relief was great when he was brought up after 
 a time by a fence, of which his blackthorn gave 
 him warning". He followed the fence until its 
 
 o 
 
 circumference was broken by a small wicket gate, 
 through which he entered, and found himself walk- 
 ing up the narrow path of a cottage garden. 
 
 He knocked at the door of the cottage, but no 
 one answered. Then he made snowballs, and 
 
THE BOLTS WERE DRAWN BY AN AGED MAN 
 
FEBRUARY 299 
 
 directed them at imagihary upper windows, and 
 presently he rejoiced when he detected by the 
 sound of broken glass that a missile had reached 
 its goal. A light appeared through the curtain, 
 and in answer to his shouting he heard feet 
 clumping down the stairs. The bolts of the door 
 were drawn by an aged man. 
 
 "Ask your pardon," said Sterculus. 
 
 The man only looked at him. He was a shock- 
 headed creature with wild, bloodshot eyes, low of 
 stature, and shaking with palsy. When he had 
 satisfied his curiosity about his disturber he tried 
 to shut the door again, but Sterculus had put his 
 hob -nailed boot against it. The shock -headed 
 man exploded in fits of cackling laughter, and 
 shufHed upstairs with his candle, leaving Sterculus 
 to enter or not as he would. It was a choice 
 between a night in the open or the company of an 
 imbecile, and he made the only decision possible. 
 He stepped inside, bolted the door, lighted himself 
 to the living-room with a match, and sat down in 
 the elbow-chair by the fireside. There were a 
 few live embers, and he drew them together and 
 fell asleep over them, impelled by sheer exhaus- 
 tion. 
 
 He awoke with a start, not knowing how long 
 he had slept, and it was some moments before he 
 realised his position. The hearth was black, but 
 the room was illumined by a light not of earth 
 a light diffused dimly and equally through the 
 kitchen. By his chair there stood a tall figure clad 
 in garments such as his own grandfather had worn 
 fifty years ago. The face was pale and stern, and 
 
300 FEBRUARY 
 
 even in his terror Sterculus was aware that the 
 form which stood over him was not a substantial 
 one, for through and beyond it there shone the 
 weird blue light of another world. He would have 
 
 o 
 
 stood up like a man to any human intruder, but this 
 ghostly visitor knocked him completely out of time, 
 and he fell to his knees, crying 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Ghost, don't 'ee hurt I ! " 
 
 His hair stood upright again on his head at the 
 reminiscence, and he continued his story in trem- 
 bling accents, and with that resort to the vernacular 
 which distinguishes him when he is much agitated. 
 
 " ' Rise ! ' says the ghost, ' rise ! ' a says, an' I 
 stood 'pright on my feet. 
 
 " ' Be you afeard on ma ? ' a axed in a tarrifyin' 
 voice. 
 
 " ' No, sir,' says I, but I 'lows my own voice he 
 trembled a good un. 
 
 " ' Will you listen to my tale ? ' a says. 
 
 11 ' I'd liefer not, sir,' says I. 
 
 "'Why not?' a bellocks fit to bring the house 
 down. 
 
 " ' I dunno,' says I, glutchin' in ma throat an' 
 martly frowtened. 
 
 " * Hark ! ' says the ghost, wi' a cold forefinger 
 on my wrist. ' By all you holds sacred hearken to 
 ma. Do 'ee feel like as if 'ee was goin' to swoon ?' 
 
 " ' No, Mr. Ghost,' I says, ' I wasn't never one to 
 swoon, not like my brother Meshach.' 
 
 " ' That is well,' a says, ' fer if you swoons I must 
 disappear.' 
 
 "I wished then as I was a swoonder, but I knowed 
 'twas no good to try actin' on't wi' a ghost, so I set 
 
FEBRUARY 
 
 301 
 
 there a-hearkenin' to his^ scroopittin' voice, wi' a 
 gnawin' in my innards as made my heart quop like 
 an old pump. You minds, ma'am, how our garden 
 pump quops since he was froze laist winter?" 
 
 "OH, MR. GHOST, DON'T 'EE HURT i!" 
 
 I remember very well. Sterculus reminds me 
 of its ailment about once a week, being desirous of 
 a new one. 
 
 " Listen ! " said the ghost. " For fifty years I 
 have haunted this cottage, ever in the hope that 
 I might compel someone to hearken to my story. 
 
302 FEBRUARY 
 
 I lived here and died here, and I have appeared 
 to every person who has lived in this house ; but 
 they have been but two or three, and I could not 
 make them understand. When that old man came, 
 forty years ago, I rejoiced ; but, alas ! he was not 
 only deaf, but foolish. In the one hour that I am 
 nightly permitted to appear I touch him, and he 
 opens his eyes and sees in the room my spirit light. 
 He says, ' Darn that there moon ! ' and turns on his 
 side and sleeps again. But now you are here, and 
 I can rid me of my secret. I am a robber and a 
 murderer." 
 
 "Oh no, Mr. Ghost, don't 'ee say that," cried 
 Sterculus. 
 
 " Listen. There was a man of Oldborough who 
 owned a flock of sheep. He came to Ilsley Fair 
 across these downs, and sold them for a good price. 
 Sheep were worth money in those days. He drank 
 at half a dozen inns before he left the village. 
 What wonder, then, that he lost his way on 
 these downs, that he came hither to my house, 
 that I saw his money while he slept his drunken 
 sleep, and that I killed him ? Do you blame me 
 for it ? " 
 
 " I d-dunno, sir," mumbled Sterculus. 
 
 " I got rid of the body, but I was afraid of the 
 money. Look out of the window ; you will see a 
 pile of stones on the ridge, and near it a thorn tree 
 grows. Under that thorn the gold is buried. Cut 
 down the tree, dig up the money, take it for your- 
 self, and live like a gentleman. ' Live like a gentle- 
 man, an' lie on a sofa fer the rest of your life,' says 
 he," concluded Sterculus, "an' then a went. I 
 
FEBRUARY 303 
 
 couldn't see the manner on't ; all I can swear to is 
 that a went. 
 
 " I ups an' outs to the shed, an' got an axe an' a 
 peck an' spade, fer the marnin' was breakin' by then. 
 The snow'd disappeared like a merracle, an' the 
 ground under the tree was all of a mash, so I 
 knowed 'twas a real ghost as had made it ready fer 
 ma. But first I had to cut down the thorn tree, an' 
 I set to wi' a will, bein' amindted to get the money 
 an' set out fer home. But when I laid the axe 
 athurt the stem I knowed 'twas bewitched. It 
 weren't a fellin' sound as that there axe made ; it 
 rang like as if 'twas iron it was meetin'. Then I 
 knowed that the ghost had been a-gammuttin' on 
 ma, and that I shouldn't never see that gold. An' 
 sure 'nough, wi'out a word o' warnin', he catched 
 ma up, an' swep' ma back to the cottage an' in at 
 winder, an' left ma belabourin' the kitchen kettle 
 wi' the poker." 
 
 " But where was the axe?" asked Jim, with a 
 grave face. 
 
 " He'd a-changed it into a poker." 
 
 " But isn't it possible that you dreamt it all ? 
 You woke up from a bad dream and found the 
 poker in your hand." 
 
 " 'Twas worse'n that," said Sterculus ; " it weren't 
 on'y that he'd 'chanted me an' the axe too ; he dood 
 worse'n that." 
 
 "What did he do?" 
 
 " There was a hole in the kettle's side, an' the 
 water all a-runnin' on to the floor. It fair mammered 
 ma. I knowed what I'd ha' done to arra man as 
 treated my kettle like that ; an' I wouldn't stop to 
 
304 FEBRUARY 
 
 face the old shacket upstairs as mightn't see 'twas 
 a ghostie's doin'. I took an' run, an' I runned 
 a'most till I got home. If Sarah wants to see ma 
 again she must come yer ; I wouldn't go anighst 
 that there cottage no more not fer all the sisters as 
 ever was. Nor for all the missuses neether," he 
 added, as an after-thought. But whether it was of 
 Mrs. Sterculus that he was thinking or of myself, 
 who for weeks had urged him to visit the bed-ridden 
 Sarah, I have no means of judging. 
 
 I am certain only of one thing. So long as 
 Sterculus lives he will believe that he saw a ghost 
 in that lonely cottage, and he will bring as in- 
 disputable evidence the tale of the blue spirit light 
 that shone in the kitchen, and the incident of the 
 axe changed by enchantment into a poker. And 
 these evidences will be sufficient to prove his case 
 to his rustic hearers. There was less proof than 
 this for the appearance of Daddy King's ghost in 
 our lane near by, and nobody would dream of casting 
 any doubt upon the story of its manifestation. 
 
 Feb. 7. I am rather ashamed to confess it, after 
 my good advice to myself about crowding the 
 greenhouse shelves through the winter with plants 
 which do not bloom until spring, but one of my 
 chief joys for the near future is a collection of pots 
 of the lovely stock Mauve Beauty, which, from 
 seed sown in July in five-inch pots, and thinned 
 to four plants in each, is now a picture of colour 
 as well as delightful in scent. And, after all, it 
 was not for long that they occupied the stage 
 before they began to show bud, for the winter 
 was so mild that they had cold-frame treatment 
 
FEBRUARY 305 
 
 until after Christmas, and are all the better for it. 
 When they go out of flower they will be planted 
 in the borders, and after they have recovered 
 themselves a little they will begin again to bloom, 
 and will continue decorative all through the 
 summer. So I am able without much effort to 
 persuade myself that it was right to grow them, 
 for they give better and longer results than almost 
 any other plants of my acquaintance. 
 
 Another thing which is at its best is the spirea 
 longifolia, which also for a time received cold-frame 
 treatment, and is now a mass of feathery whiteness. 
 It will last in good condition in the drawing-room 
 for six weeks or more, and is a great improvement 
 on the older forms of this plant. My cyclamens 
 are an unmitigated failure, as they never show a 
 a mass of blooms at one time, and although some- 
 thing may be attributed to incorrect treatment last 
 summer, I am inclined to think that the corms are 
 getting too old to give the best results, and I shall 
 buy some fresh seedlings from a good strain next 
 August. 
 
 Most persons are fond of dahlias and salvia 
 patens, and it will soon be time to propagate these, 
 if the stock is to be increased. If the roots are 
 started in heat they will throw up cuttings which 
 will be good flowering plants next summer. The 
 old stools have been kept through the winter in 
 the cellar. The gathering together of plants and 
 bulbs from various places of safety in the spring, 
 by a gardener who is short of glasshouse room, 
 partakes of the nature of the prophetic gathering 
 together of the dry bones of Scripture. They 
 
306 FEBRUARY 
 
 come from all corners and nooks of vantage, from 
 loft and shed and cellar and attic, and from beneath 
 the greenhouse stage, and when the congestion 
 of the house begins to be somewhat relieved they 
 are given prominent places and made much of, 
 as though they had never been ruthlessly con- 
 demned to exile ; and they are so longsuffering 
 and kind that they behave as though they had been 
 treated in most generous fashion, and withhold none 
 of their beauties for our punishment as they might 
 so easily do. 
 
 If the asparagus nanus is required for cutting 
 next winter, it should now be given a respite from 
 the scissors, for it is throwing out new frond-spikes 
 in abundance. When Sterculus first came to us 
 he was quite ignorant of the culture of flowers, 
 and for one or two winters I found that these new 
 fronds were conspicuous by their reluctance to 
 appear, as it seemed. It turned out that he had 
 cut them off with the greatest assiduity and care 
 as soon as they grew above the old foliage, thinking 
 the twiggy growths untidy and obtrusive beyond 
 their due. He is now sowing Marguerite carna- 
 tions and Chinese pinks, which, as soon as they have 
 germinated, will, if the weather permits, be moved 
 to a cold frame, for it does not suit them to remain 
 in heat after top growth has shown itself, or their 
 constitution becomes weakened. The dianthuses 
 will fill gaps in the herbaceous borders for autumn 
 blooming, while the carnations will occupy a reserve 
 bed near the kitchen garden for cutting. Other 
 seeds there are which have soon to be sown, such 
 as petunias, tobaccos, verbenas, and marigolds ; 
 
FEBRUARY 307 
 
 and the propagation of chrysanthemums goes on 
 apace, for the cuttings raised now will probably 
 be our best when autumn comes. They will be 
 good strong plants without a suspicion of drawing, 
 for their treatment will be entirely on the cold 
 
 system. 
 
 " February fill dyke 
 Either with black or white." 
 
 Feb. 14. So the old saw goes, and this year 
 it is with deep white snow that our ditches are to 
 be filled and our springs replenished. It has come 
 suddenly, and the birds, misled by the winter's early 
 mildness, have kept no store of berries to sustain 
 them in days of famine. They come round the 
 house in whirling crowds, begging for relief which 
 is freely given them, and showing their gratitude 
 by increasing confidence and friendliness. It is 
 amusing to watch them every morning when the' 
 bird-table and tray have been laden with good things, 
 and the giver has retired and left them to the feast. 
 
 The table happens to be placed on part of the 
 property belonging to the robin who lives under 
 the elm tree, and he takes a proprietary interest in 
 it apart from his appreciation of the food upon it. 
 I believe that every robin in a garden has a portion 
 of ground which he regards as his particular 
 preserve. This is undoubtedly the case with 
 our little birds. When crumbs are placed on the 
 table the robin of the elm tree flies down to it, and 
 walks round in a menacing way. Sparrows may 
 come and eat, but no other robins may approach ; 
 if any is foolhardy enough to do so, he is driven 
 away with vicious pecks and dashes. Presently, 
 
308 FEBRUARY 
 
 when he has asserted himself in what he considers 
 an adequate manner, the robin of the elm tree eats 
 his breakfast and retires to his hiding place in the 
 hedge, and the robins of the holly tree and of the 
 apple tree are allowed to satisfy their natural 
 craving for food. This routine is invariable, and 
 the consequence is that the elm-tree bird has been 
 fat and well-liking throughout the winter, while his 
 poorer relatives have a seedy appearance, due 
 partly to only half-appeased hunger, and partly to 
 some loss of natural dignity arising through 
 persecution. For the chief characteristic of the 
 robin is personal pride and vainglory. He will 
 not associate with robins in a walk of life different 
 from his own. He loves the neighbourhood of 
 human beings, whom, doubtless, he considers fit 
 associates for his important little self, and I have 
 known a robin who never failed to fly out from the 
 hedge and welcome me whenever I came in from 
 my daily walk. But other robins he dislikes and 
 distrusts in the same way that an Englishman 
 abroad dislikes and distrusts all Englishmen he 
 meets, while holding out the hand of fellowship 
 to persons of a nationality other than his own. 
 " I hate to be mixed up with that holly- tree fellow," 
 says the elm-tree robin as plainly as possible to his 
 human friends ; and the holly-tree fellow knows 
 it well, and takes a small satisfaction by despising 
 the apple-tree fellow who lives in the kitchen 
 garden, and is in consequence a mere rustic, and 
 of no account whatever in the more aristocratic 
 circles of the robin world. 
 
 Before the smaller birds have finished their meal 
 
FEBRUARY 
 
 309 
 
 there is audible a great fluttering of heavy wings, 
 and the sentinel starling has brought his relations 
 to the feast. The starlings have not packed this 
 winter nor indeed for the last three or four winters 
 but are still living in the neighbourhood of houses 
 after their summer fashion. Doubtless they know 
 better than we do when a mild season is coming, 
 and will not trouble themselves to change their 
 quarters except in times of necessity. They live in 
 holes in the thatch, and sometimes on a mild January 
 
 THE MORNING FEAST 
 
 morning they choose to pretend that they are black- 
 birds, and wake us with a descant only a little less 
 beautiful than the blackbird's note. When they fly 
 down to their breakfast they do not disturb the 
 sparrows ; but the robins will not consent to eat in 
 their company, and retire sullenly to their dens, 
 whence their bright eyes watch the intruders in 
 jealous impatience. Then the blackbirds hurry up at 
 the last moment to get what remnants they can find ; 
 a tomtit or two and a bullfinch join them in nervous 
 dread of the consequences, and a solitary thrush 
 
310 FEBRUARY 
 
 hovers near to snatch the crumbs which the wasteful 
 starlings have scattered far and wide. I believe it 
 is said that the blackbirds are driving the thrushes 
 out of gardens, and it is certainly true that every 
 year the thrushes are fewer and their song is rarer. 
 Probably within a measurable distance of time we 
 shall make excursions into the fields to listen to 
 them by day, as we do now to hear the nightin- 
 gale on a warm night in May. 
 
 And lastly to the scene of the feast come the 
 rooks, though not to eat. They circle high above 
 the table, not daring to approach the house, and 
 they perch in neighbouring trees, cawing mournfully 
 for the joys which cannot be theirs. Sad it is to 
 look into happiness through another bird's eyes, 
 and this sadness seems ever the portion of the rook 
 colony, which flies a long distance only to behold a 
 feast devoured by lesser, bolder birds. But there 
 are turnips yet to be had in the fields, and the 
 winter will not be a long one, for the starlings have 
 told us so ; and presently the rooks will have it all 
 their own way, and will make the world noisy with 
 their clamorous family life. For the twigs of the 
 wych elms are big with purple knobs, and the 
 earliest snowdrops are pushing bravely through the 
 snow, and the honeysuckles are bursting into gay, 
 green leaf, and the heart of Nature is throbbing 
 beneath her winter garment. And presently she 
 will awake from her long sleep, refreshed and ready 
 for new efforts of beauty and tenderness ; and the 
 flowers her children will lie in her lap, rejoicing 
 because spring has given them life again. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, the portion of the watching 
 
FEBRUARY 311 
 
 rooks is not all unhappiness or envy. Who knows 
 that they do not take pleasure in the plenty of other 
 birds more fortunate than themselves? Why should 
 the best virtues be attributed only to the human, 
 and denied to the lower animal creation ? Happi- 
 ness must always be beautiful to look on, wherever 
 it may be. 
 
 Yet the happiness of those we love is so sacred 
 that it may hardly be dwelt upon. Since yesterday 
 it has been my part to dwell beneath the same roof 
 with a man who indeed says nothing, or almost 
 nothing, about a great felicity that is his after many 
 days of anxious fear and hope, but whose joy-lit 
 eyes betray his happiness. And Magdalen comes 
 and whispers in a broken voice, and tells me how 
 she loved him but feared that he would never 
 speak, until a chance word, a touch unlocked for, 
 swept away pride's barrier and loosed his tongue, 
 and in a moment came paradise. Even one of 
 life's onlookers may feel strangely moved at the 
 sight of such happiness as theirs. 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abol syringe, 70 
 Achimenes, 187-91, 295 
 Aconite, winter, 293 
 
 what soil to plant in, 293 
 
 Ageratum, 25, 144 
 "Agricultural depression," 259 
 Alfred, King, 289 
 Alkanet, blue, 94 
 
 Italian, 98 
 Allium, white, 181 
 Alstromeria, yellow, 119 
 Amaryllids, 9 
 
 Anacharis, abnormal appearance 
 
 of, 229 
 
 Anchusa italica, 94, 98 
 /And I'm not loving you now," 
 
 199 
 Anecdotes of dogs, 154 
 
 - garden boys, 43 
 a new-comer, 288 
 
 - parsons, 134, 198, 255 
 a porter, 196 
 
 a Roman coin, 271 
 
 Anemones, 5 
 
 crown, 29 
 
 fulgenS) 222 
 
 and standard roses, 30 
 Angler, the Compleat, 202 
 Animals, The Colours of, 236 
 Annuals, autumn-sown, 1 54 
 
 thinning of, 69 
 
 Ant, the leaf-cutting, 239 
 Antirrhinum, 101, 148, 219 
 
 snow queen, 148 
 Aphis, 70 
 
 Aquilegia, 33 
 Arabis albida, 27 
 Artillery plants, 9 
 Arums, 187, 253 
 Ashes, detrimental, 173 
 Asparagus fern, dwarf, 187 
 Asphodels, 5 
 Asters, 145 
 
 herbaceous, 33 
 Auricula, 92 
 Avens, water, 73 
 
 scarlet, 98 
 Azaleas, 189 
 
 Balsam, 10 
 
 Basil, 197 
 - poems by, 225 
 
 Baskets, hanging, plants for, 75, 
 189 
 
 Beasts, mimicry of, 234 
 
 Bedding plants, not kept in green- 
 house, 1 88 
 
 Beds, to improve, 80 
 
 Begonias, 38, 187, 191, 221, 253, 
 295 
 
 tuberous, 296 
 Berberis, 7 
 
 Bethlehem, star of, 6, 100 
 Birds, feeding the, 310 
 Blackbirds, 309 
 Bluebells, in 
 
 Book, my first, 203 
 Borage, 98 
 Botrytis cinerea, 75 
 Bouncing Bet, 78 
 
 312 
 
INDEX 
 
 313 
 
 Bouvardia, 189 
 Bracken, how useful, 13 
 Broom, i 
 Buds, chrysanthemum, 152 
 
 crown, 152 
 
 - retaining of, 152 
 
 - terminal, 152 
 Budding, 130 
 
 Bulbs, arrangement, of for rooms, 
 
 181 
 Bulbs, cheapness of many, 171 
 
 - hints to ensure success, 174 
 
 - in plunge, 176 
 
 - mainstay of the winter garden, 
 170 
 
 - more expensive. 178 
 
 potting soil for, 172 
 
 proportion of yearly expendi- 
 ture on, 171 
 
 treatment of, when finished 
 flowering, 182 
 
 what selection to obtain for a 
 guinea, 178 
 
 when to plant out, 176 
 
 worthless varieties noted, 278 
 Bulbous saxifrage, 73 
 Bullfinch, 309 
 
 Buttercup, Bermuda, 283 
 
 Cacti, 187 
 
 Caddis worms, 230 
 
 Calceolarias, 163, 286 
 
 cuttings of, 164 
 
 how to plant out, 164 
 
 require shade, 164 
 Calendula officinalis, 206 
 Caliban, 88 
 
 Calla, 190 
 
 Calla Richardias, 172, 183, 253 
 Callas, yellow, 9 
 
 Camberwell Cadger, the Con- 
 verted, 158 
 Campanula, 287 
 
 - chimney, 36 
 
 cup and saucer, 36 
 Camp, Roman, tradition of, 271 
 Candytuft, Debbie's, 81, 154 
 
 Cannas, 149, 286 
 Canterbury bells, 8, 94, 98 
 "Cap in shreds, a," 157 
 Carnations, layering of, 130, 132 
 
 - Margaret, 116, 219 
 
 when to sow, 306 
 
 replanting of, 294 
 
 - thinning of, 115 
 Caterpillars that imitate snakes, 
 
 239 
 
 Caterpillar, the geometer, 229 
 Cerura vinula, 239 
 " Chant outside the window, the," 
 
 263 
 
 Cherry lanterns, 288 
 Child, the modern, 223 
 Chinese pinks, when to sow, 306 
 "Choir-boys," 135 
 Christine, the Sorrows of, 203 
 Christmas roses, 187, 209, 221, 253 
 
 - to replant, 71 
 Chrysanthemums, 172, 187, 190, 
 
 191, 192, 219, 220, 243, 247, 253, 
 
 285 
 
 Carnot, Madame, 220 
 
 - Davis, Charles, 219 
 
 Golden Gate, 220 
 
 Gruyer, Monsieur, 220 
 
 Mease, Mrs., 220 
 
 Pearson, R. H., 220 
 
 Phoebus, 220 
 
 Silver Cloud, 220 
 
 Viviand Morel, 219 
 
 Warren, G. J., 220 
 
 number of blooms desirable, 
 220 
 
 - propagation of, 277, 307 
 Church, the, 275 
 
 Cinerarias, 38, 113, 114, 172, 187, 
 
 190, 244, 246, 252 
 Clarkia, 82, 146 
 Clematis languinosa, 96 
 
 Lady Caroline Neville, 96 
 
 montana, 280 
 
 combined with pinks, 96 
 Clifford, Magdalen, 112, 113, 169, 
 
 170 
 " Climbing roses," 93 
 
INDEX 
 
 Colour in borders, choice of, 95 
 Columbine, 6, 98 
 
 reversion to primitive type, 208 
 Comfrey, 98 
 
 Commelina celestis, 25, 144, 145, 
 
 147 
 Commons and heaths, 137 
 
 cultivation of, by monks, 138 
 Coot, 55 
 Coreopsis grandiflora, 95, 207, 219 
 
 lanceolata, 208, 219 
 
 whether true perennials, 208 
 Cosmos, 144 
 
 " Cottage and annexe," 15 
 Cottage Hospital, Oldborough, 
 
 254 
 
 Cowslips, 74 
 Crambe cordifolia, 99 
 Crinum longifolium, 9 
 Crocuses, 27, 222 
 
 how to grow, 176 
 
 Mont Blanc, 176 
 Cuckoo, the, 48 
 
 day, 27 
 
 - eggs of the, 54 
 
 flowers, 74 
 
 - Milton's opinion of the, 59 
 
 - nests, varieties of, used, 49 
 " Cuckoo, the," 58 
 
 "Cuckoo, young, ejecting his 
 
 foster-brethren," 53 
 Cunnigaw Hill, 242 
 Curate, the, 134 
 
 - the new, 198 
 
 Cuttings of fibrous -rooted be- 
 gonias, 38 
 
 pelargoniums, 92 
 
 zonal, n, 191 
 
 rose, 162 
 
 how and when to make, 
 
 163 
 
 all kinds 163 
 
 Cyclamens, 35, 36, 172, 186, 187, 
 190, 253, 305 
 
 Persian, 151 
 
 - how to treat, 152 
 Cytisus, 190 
 
 Daddy King's ghost, 272 
 - tradition of, 272 
 "Daffodils in the wild garden," 32 
 Daffodils, list of (vide Narcissi) 
 
 - 28, 31, 32, 171, 279 
 
 Dahlia, 13, 14, 115, 149, 219, 222, 
 286 
 
 - when to propagate, 305 
 Daisies, double white, 193 
 
 Michaelmas, 206 
 
 - ox-eyed, 74 
 
 - red, 34 
 Daniel, 124 
 Danvers, William, 273 
 Darwinism, 241 
 
 Day of the Unconquered Sun, the, 
 
 242 
 
 Delphinium, 115, 286 
 Dianthus, 306 
 chinensis, 92, 146 
 
 deltoides, 72 
 
 - when sown, 285 
 Doll's-house, Ibsen's, 226 
 Doronicum, 98 
 
 - Harpur Crewe, 77 
 
 yellow, 33, 77 
 "Doronicums in agrassy place," 34 
 Dried flowers, arrangement of, 
 
 288 
 "Ducks and hens, and a pig or 
 
 two," 69 
 "Dungin 5 time," 221 
 
 " Eats all the blooms he can 
 
 reach," 118 
 Echinops ritro, 149 
 Editha, 272 
 Elizabeth and her German Garden, 
 
 101 
 
 Elms, wych, 310 
 Enclosure Acts, 143 
 Erigeron, 115 
 
 Eryngium Oliverianum, 149 
 Erylhronium citrinum, 280 
 Eschscholtzia, selection of colours, 
 
 145 
 
 mandarin, 148 
 
INDEX 
 
 315 
 
 "Evening primroses in the wild 
 garden," 119 
 
 120 
 
 - ocnothera biennis, 1 20 
 
 speciosa, 120 
 
 - taraxacifolia, 120 
 
 Youngii, 120 
 "Everywhere there are spring 
 
 bulbs," 3 
 Expenditure, hints on, 171 
 
 " Fat bacon-pig, the," 216 
 February fill dyke, 307 
 Ferns, 34 
 
 adder's-tongue, 73 
 
 asparagus, dwarf, 187 
 
 grown with bulbs, 34 
 Fertiliser, Clay's, 174 
 Flax, blue, 98 
 
 Flowers, cut, to obtain, from 
 October to March, 188 
 
 - how to pack, 287 
 
 yellow, 95 
 Folk land, 143 
 
 " Folk land, remnants of," 141 
 Foresight, necessary, 206 
 Forget-me-not, 6, 193 
 Foxglove, 2, 5, 98 
 
 yellow, 6 
 
 Frames, cleaning of, 183 
 
 - contents of, 187 
 
 - substitute for, 14 
 
 Freesia, 150, 151, 187, 190, 246, 
 
 253 
 
 how to treat, 1 5 1 
 
 when to plant, 1 50 
 Fritillary, 6, 38 
 Fuchsias, 187, 189 
 Fumigator, X-L All, the best, 175 
 Funkia grandiflora, 119 
 
 - 287 
 
 Gaillardia, 94 
 Galanthus Elwesii, 293 
 
 Forsteri, 293 
 
 nivalis, 292 
 Gamlt Norge", 205 
 
 Garden thai I Love, 106 
 
 ardeners, 17 
 
 ardening, books on, 101 
 
 eraniums, n, 244, 246 
 Geum, 72 
 
 chiloense, 78 
 
 miniatum, 78 
 Gladioli, 26, 38, 149, 222 
 Gloire de Lorraine, 253 
 Gloxinias, 187, 191, 295, 296 
 Godetia, 82, 146 
 
 Good old days, the, 258 
 
 Good Words for the Voting, 205 
 
 Grass, 24, 77 
 
 - best method to plant in, 5 
 
 flowers suitable to plant in, 98 
 Grasshoppers, 239 
 Greenhouse, 186 
 
 - heating of, 186, 223 
 
 size and arrangement of, 186 
 
 - small, plants to select in, 246 
 "Griskin, Mr, the butcher," 195 
 Gypsophila paniculata, 1 49 
 
 Hanging baskets, plants for, 75, 
 
 189 
 
 Hannah Snell, 276 
 Happiness, pleasure to watch, 
 
 3ii 
 
 "Happy Jack," 269 
 
 Harris lilies, 174, 296 
 
 - hints on treatment of, 175 
 " Haymaking," 99 
 Heather, i 
 
 " Height of a sha-a-ft, the," 122 
 " He sank into the nearest chair," 
 
 297 
 
 Heliotrope, 150 
 Herald Moth, the, 231 
 Herbaceous garden, 286 
 Hollyhock, 102 
 Holly, sea, 92 
 Honesty, 288 
 Honeysuckle, 310 
 Hornet, 238 
 
 clear-winged moth, 238 
 Hyacinth, 28, 29, 279 
 
INDEX 
 
 Hyacinth, azureum^ 279 
 
 children's miniature, 179 
 
 - Dutch, 178 
 
 - grape, 279 
 
 - General Havelock, 34 
 
 Heavenly Blue grape, 279 
 
 Italian, 32, 182, 279 
 
 - Lord Derby, 34 
 
 - Roman, 172, 181, 221, 244 
 
 Spanish, 6 
 
 the white wood, 74 
 Hyacinths and narcissi, combina- 
 tion of, 34 
 
 Hygrometer, 99 
 
 Iris, 72 
 
 foetida, 149 
 
 laevigata, 9 
 
 Spanish, 100, 120, 209 
 Ivy-leaved pelargonium, 189 
 " In ma pawket," 133 
 
 " Interestin' part of the country 
 
 this," 289 
 " Intruder, an," 77 
 " Is it me you want to see?" 213 
 " I've figured it all out," 23 
 " I've seen a pig in a garden," 21 
 
 "Janniveer," 221 
 "Jerry-builder, the," 78 
 Jervis, Mr., 167, 234 
 Jim, 14, 39, 60, 112, 154, 169, 193, 
 
 248 
 Jonquil, 178 
 
 Ladybird, 238 
 
 Laing, Mrs. John, 116 
 
 Lammas Day, 137 
 
 Larkspur, 8 
 
 Laurel, 7 
 
 " Lean countryman, a," 86 
 
 "Learned entomologist," a, 235 
 
 Lilacs, 91 
 
 Lilies, Madonna, 75, 100, 116 
 
 when to transplant, 153 
 
 Lilium candidum, 153 
 Linum narbonnense, 94 
 
 Lily, arum, 187 
 
 of the valley, 280 
 
 Fortin s, 282 
 
 Lobelia, blue, 75 
 London pride, 73 
 Lungwort, 4 
 
 Lupin, perennial, 33, 98 
 
 yellow tree, 97 
 " Lydia Die," 39 
 
 Magdalen, 112, 169, 247, 311 
 "Maid Marian and Friar Tuck," 
 
 63 
 
 Manure water, 252 
 Maria, 124 
 Marigold, 145, 287, 306 
 
 Legion of Honour, 145 
 
 orange pot, 206 
 
 May Day, celebration of, 60 
 "May I. C. U. home, my dear?" 
 
 45 
 
 Meconopsis wallachii^ 9 
 Meshach, 199 
 Meshach's mother, 200 
 
 - treasure, 2 1 1 
 
 Mice, how to circumvent, 221 
 Mignonette, how to sow, 208 
 Morning feast, the, 309 
 Morina, 80 
 Moulton, Mr., 226 
 Mountain snow, 27 
 " Moving orator, a," 159 
 Mumby, Mr., 234 
 Mummers, 261 
 
 - play, 262 
 
 Muscaris, 181, 253, 279 
 "My cousin, Mr. Jervis," 167 
 
 " My name is Mister Gray," 267 
 
 Nancy, 248 
 
 Narcissi, list of, 177, 279 
 
 Narcissus, Bazelman Major, 177 
 
 Bulbocodium, 180 
 
 - Cynosure, 27, 31, 171, 279 
 
 Double Roman, 174, 187, 221, 
 245, 253, 279 
 
 Emperor, 180 
 
INDEX 
 
 317 
 
 Narcissus, Figaro, 31, 180, 279 
 
 - Golden Spur, 180, 279 
 
 Grand Monarque, 177 
 
 - Hoop Petticoat, 180 
 
 Horsefieldii, 180,279 
 
 Incomparabilis, 178, 279 
 Bacon and Eggs, 279 
 
 Johnstoni Queen of Spain, 
 1 80 
 
 - Leedsii Amabilis, 178 
 
 - Mont Cenis, 178 
 
 - Mrs. Langtry, 180 
 
 Obvallaris^ 279 
 
 Orange Phoenix, 34, 178 
 
 paper white, 173, l8 7, 221, 
 253 
 
 Poeticus Ornatus, 178, 279 
 
 - Polyanthus, 177 
 
 Princeps, 279 
 
 - RugulosuS) 279 
 
 SpuriuS) 279 
 
 Stella, 279 
 
 - Sulphur Phoenix, 179 
 
 Van Sion, 178 
 Narcissus, easily grown, 179 
 Natural protection of insects, 
 
 231 
 
 Nemesia Strumosa Suttoni, 144 
 Nightingales, 80, 310 
 "Nightingale, the," 81 
 "Night-jar, the," 51 
 " Not from their moother," 125 
 
 CEnothera biennis, 120 
 
 - speciosa, 120 
 
 taraxacifolia, 80, 120 
 
 - Youngii, 120 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Ghost, don't 'ee hurt I !" 
 
 301 
 
 Orchids, 74 
 
 Oxalis Bermudiana, 283 
 Ox-eyed daisy, the, 74 
 
 Paeonies, Chinese, 284 
 
 - European, 2 
 Pansies, 91, 207 
 
 maize-coloured, 144 
 
 Pansies, tufted, 95 
 
 - white, 143 
 
 Parishioners, rights of, 139 
 Parish, the, 272 
 
 registers, 276 
 Pelargoniums, 92, 149, 286, 295 
 
 - fancy, 187, 191 
 
 - ivy, 75 
 
 zonal, 11, 38, 172, 187, 189, 190, 
 221, 243, 296 
 
 varieties of, Jacoby, 191 
 
 Lucrece, 191 
 
 Mikado, 191 
 
 - Nicholas II., 191 
 
 - Puritan, 191 
 
 Sunbeam, 191 
 
 Volcanic, 191 
 
 Pentstemon, 165 
 
 barbatus, Torreyi, 219 
 
 cyananlhuS) 96 
 
 hybrid, 165, 287 
 
 J affray anus, 96 
 
 procerus, 95 
 Perennials, hardy, 98 
 Petunia, 82, 169, 226, 254, 289 
 " Petunia," 83 
 
 Petunias, 25, 144, 191, 287, 306 
 
 - pink, 143 
 
 Phacelia campanularia, 144, 147 
 Phlox, 91, 286 
 
 - Drummondi, 144, 219 
 Physalis, 149 
 
 Pinks, 91 
 
 Chinese, 92, 306 
 
 pheasant-eye, 98 
 
 Plants cleaned for winter, 184 
 
 stakes for, 1 1 5 
 
 succession of, 100 
 Plumbago larpenta, 219 
 Polyanthus, 33 
 Poppies, Himalayan, 9 
 
 - Iceland, 95 
 
 Nankeen, 72, 95 
 
 Oriental, 2, 33, 72, 77, 9 2 , 9 8 > 
 
 100, IIS JI20 
 
 Portulaca, 74 
 
INDEX 
 
 Potentilla, common yellow, the, 72 
 
 - single yellow, 98 
 Potting, preparing for, 283 
 
 - soil for, 283 
 Primroses, no 
 
 - Asiatic, 6 
 
 evening, 120 
 
 cenothera biennis, 120 
 
 speciosa, 120 
 
 taraxacifolia, 80, 120 
 
 Youngii, 120 
 
 Pyrethrums, 115 
 
 Resemblance, aggressive, 237 
 
 - protective, 237 
 "Revellers," 121 
 Rheum, giant, 2 
 Ridge way, the, 271 
 Robins, 307 
 Rockets, double, 290 
 
 root division of, 291 
 
 single, 291 
 
 - when to plant, 291 
 
 white, 292 
 Romneya coulteri, 9, 79 
 Rooks, 310 
 
 Roots, how to store, 150 
 Roses, Christmas, 71, 209 
 
 - Lenten, 209 
 
 " Roses, climbing," 93 
 Roses, climbing, 93 
 
 - Ayrshire, 119 
 
 - Crimson Rambler, 118 
 
 - Flora, 118 
 
 - Garland, the, 118 
 
 - aphis on, 70 
 
 and bulbs, 28 
 
 - to prune, 13, 293 
 
 - tea, to prune, 27, 38 
 
 - standard, 282 
 
 - when to plant, 222 
 
 - worms in, 70 
 Roses, list of 
 
 Baroness Rothschild, 1 1 8, 294 
 Bouquet d'or, 93 
 Briars, 222 
 
 Roses, list of 
 
 Captain Christy, 13, 117 
 
 Chestnut hybrid, 93 
 
 Clio, 117 
 
 Countess of Oxford, 1 1 7 
 
 Ella Gordon, 117 
 
 Eugen Fiirst, 117 
 
 Gloire de Dijon, 93 
 
 Her Majesty, 118 
 
 Jean Liabaud, 117 
 
 La France, 222 
 
 Lamarck, 93 
 
 L'Ideal, 93 
 
 Madame Gabrielle Luizet, 117 
 
 Margaret Dickson, 117 
 
 Marie Baumann, 117 
 
 Mrs. John Laing, 1 1 7 
 
 Reine Marie Henriette, 94 
 
 Salamander, 117 
 
 Spencer, 118 
 
 Ulrich Brunner, 117, 222 
 
 Violette Bouyer, 1 1 7 
 
 Williams, A. K., 117 
 Rustic of advanced views, the, 123 
 the religion of the, 256 
 
 Salvia patens, 305 
 Saponaria ocymoides, 78, 101 
 Sawfly, the, 233 
 Saxifrage, bulbous, 73 
 Scillas, 6, 253 
 S cilia siberica, 177 
 Seeds, good, important, 147 
 how to order, 147 
 Seraphina, 193 
 "Shepherd on Cunnigaw Hill 
 
 the," 243 
 St. John's wort, 2 
 Smilax, 187 
 
 " Smiling by the roadside," 155 
 Snapdragons, 8, 92, 287 
 Snowdrops, 181, 253, 310 
 
 - Galanthus nivalis, 292 
 
 - Elwesti, 293 
 
 - Foster's, 293 
 Snowflake, 6 
 Sole Wood, 227 
 
INDEX 
 
 319 
 
 Solomon's seal, 187 
 Sparmannia, 190 
 Sparrows, 307 
 Spiders, 239 
 Spi rasas, 222 
 
 - longifolia, 305 
 Spring, signs of, 295 
 Squills, 27, 177, 280 
 
 and snowflakes, 280 
 St. Swithun's Day, 120 
 Stakes, 115 
 
 renewed, 252 
 Starlings, 309 
 
 Statice latifolia, 79, 149 
 Statices, 79, 288 
 Sterculus, 17, 297 
 
 sees a ghost, 299 
 "Sterculus Picumnus," 18 
 Stocks, 145, 287, 304 
 
 Mauve Beauty, 304 
 Sunflowers, annual, 206 
 Sweet peas, 78, 79, 148, 153 
 
 - Red Riding Hood, 148 
 
 varieties of, when to sow, 
 
 294 
 
 when to sow, 221 
 
 Sweet-william, 33 
 Syntri Weg, 228 
 Syringe, Abol, 70 
 
 Tagetes, 145, 147 
 
 " The consequences were obvious," 
 
 66 
 
 "Thee an' I 'ool battle," 266 
 " This here sketch is up to date," 
 
 128 
 
 Thrushes, 310 
 Tobacco plants, 285 
 " Tommy Sandford," 68 
 Tomtits, 309 
 
 Touch and smell in birds, 55 
 Trichiosoma tenthedrion, 232 
 Trilliums, 7 
 Triteleia uniflora, 181 
 Tritonia, 96 
 
 - crocosmiceflora, 96 
 
 - Pott si, 96 
 
 Tubs, 189 
 
 " Tubs and hanging baskets," 76 
 
 Tulips, 28, 98 
 
 succession of, to ensure, 176 
 
 to water, 181 
 
 under glass, hints on, 177 
 Tulips, list of 
 
 Artus, 29 
 
 Brutus, 29 
 
 Chrysolora, 176, 278 
 
 Cottage Maid, 180 
 
 Dusant, 180 
 
 Due van Tholl, scarlet, 6, 176, 
 180, 253 
 
 Joost van Vondel, 180 
 
 La Candeur, 176 
 
 La Reine, 29, 176, 280 
 
 Mon Tresor, 180, 278 
 
 parrot, 74 
 
 Pottebakker, 180, 278 
 
 Rose Blanche, 176 
 
 Tournesol, 176 
 
 Yellow Rose, 176 
 Twae-blade, 73 
 "Two naughty girls came by," 
 
 217 
 
 Verbena, 306 
 
 - Lemon, 187 
 Vicar, the new, 255 
 
 Viola cornuta, 82 
 Violets, 284 
 
 - beds to prepare, 184 
 
 for autumn blooming, 37 
 
 - how to treat in winter, 185 
 
 - Marie Louise, 187, 220 
 
 plentiful, 220 
 
 - Princess of Wales, 187, 220 
 
 profuse blooming, 187 
 
 white, Count Brazza, 188 
 
 Wallflowers, 33, 91, 192, 222 
 
 - varieties of, 193 
 Wasp, 238 
 
 " We always looks after the sex," 
 
 196 
 Weeding, 68, 79 
 
320 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Werge, Bill, 211 
 - his will, 211 
 Wessex, religion in, 256 
 " What do he say, Betty ? " 64 
 White weed, 73 
 "White weed in a grove," 73 
 Wild garden, the, 6 
 Winter evenings, how to employ, 
 251 
 
 Wood hyacinth, the, 74 
 Woodpecker, 55 
 Woodruff, iii 
 Wych elms, 310 
 
 Zauschneria californica, 100 
 Zinnias, 146 
 
 Zonal pelargoniums (vide Pelar- 
 goniums 
 
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