THE GLADIOLUS

One of the most popular flowers of the day is the Gladiolus. All things considered, it is our best summer bloomer. Nothing in the floral world exceeds it in variety and range of color. This color is in some varieties dark and rich in scarlets, crimsons, and purples, in others dainty and delicate in pink, pearly flesh, almost pure white, and softest rose, while the midway sorts are in brilliant carmines, cherry-reds, lilacs, and intermediate tones too numerous to mention. Nearly all varieties show most magnificent combinations of color that baffle description. Comparatively few varieties are one color throughout.

Most plants in which such a bewildering variety of color is found have a tendency to coarseness, but this objection cannot be urged against the Gladiolus. It has all the delicacy of the Orchid. Its habit of growth fits it admirably for use in the border. Its ease of cultivation makes it a favorite with the amateur who has only a limited amount of time to spend among the flowers. It is a plant that any one can grow, and it is a plant that will grow almost anywhere. It is one of the few plants that seem almost able to take care of themselves. Beyond putting the corms in the ground, in spring, and an occasional weeding as the plant develops, very little attention is required.

To secure the best effect from it, the Gladiolus should be planted in masses. Single specimens are far less satisfactory. One must see fifty or a hundred plants in a bed ten or fifteen feet long to fully appreciate what it is capable of doing.

The time to plant it is in May, after the soil has become warm. Nothing is gained by earlier planting.

The bed should be spaded to the depth of a foot, at least. Then the soil should be worked over until it is fine and light. A liberal quantity of some good fertilizer should be added to it. Commercial fertilizers seem to suit it well, but the use of barnyard manure gives excellent results, and I would prefer it, if obtainable.

The corms should be put about four inches below the surface, care being exercised at the time of planting to see that they are right side up. It is often difficult to decide this matter before sprouting begins, but a little careful examination of the corm will soon enable you to tell where the sprouts will start from, and this will prevent you from getting it wrong-side up. As soon as the plants send up a stalk, some provision should be made for future support. If you prefer to stake the beds, set the stakes in rows about two feet apart. Wire or cord need not be stretched on them until the stalks are half grown. The reason for setting the stakes early in the season is—you know just where the corm is then, but later on you will not be able to tell where the new corms are, and in setting the stakes at random you are quite likely to injure them. When you apply the cord or wire to the stakes, run it lengthwise of the bed, and then across it in order to furnish a sufficient support without obliging the stalks to lean from the perpendicular to get the benefit of it.

For several seasons past, I have made use of a coarse-meshed wire netting, placed over the bed, and fastened to stakes about eighteen inches high. The stalks find no difficulty in making their way through the large meshes of the netting, and with a support of this kind they dispose themselves in a natural manner that is far more satisfactory than tying them to stakes, as we often see done. Some kind of a support must be given if we would guard against injury caused by strong winds. When the flower-stalk is once prostrated it is a difficult matter to get it back in place without breaking it.

If netting is used it need not be placed over the bed before the middle of July. By that time most of the weeds which require attention during the early part of the season will have been disposed of. Putting on the netting at an earlier period would greatly interfere with the proper cultivation of the bed. The soil should be kept light and open until the flower-stalks begin to show their buds.

The flowering-period covers several weeks, beginning in August, and lasting all through September.

The Gladiolus is extremely effective for interior decorative work. It lasts for days after being cut. Indeed, if cut when the first flowers at the base of the spike open, it will continue to develop the buds above until all have become flowers, if the water in which the stalks are placed is changed daily, and a bit of the end of the stalk is cut off each time. For church use no flower excels it except the Lily, and that we can have for only a short time, and quite often not at all.

In late October the plants should be lifted, and spread out in the sunshine to ripen. Do not cut the stalks away until you are ready to store the corms. Then cut off each stalk about two inches from its junction with the corm. When the roots seem well dried out, put them in paper bags containing perfectly dry sawdust or buckwheat shells, and hang them in a dry place where the frost will not get at them. I would not advise storing them in the cellar, as they generally mould or mildew there.

Most varieties increase quite rapidly. You will find several new corms in fall, taking the place of the old one planted in spring. Often there will be scores of little fellows the size of a pea, clustered about the larger corms. These should be saved, and planted out next spring. Sow them close together in rows, as you would wheat. The following year they will bloom.

So extensively is the Gladiolus grown at the present time that enough to fill a good-sized bed can be bought for a small sum. And in no other way can you invest a little money and be sure of such generous returns. What the Geranium is to the window-garden that the Gladiolus is to the outdoor garden, and one is of as easy culture as the other.



Some of the choicest varieties are sold at a high price. One reason for this is—the finest varieties are slow to increase, and it takes a long time to get much of a stock together. This is why they are so rare, and so expensive. But many of them are well worth all that is asked for them.

You may have a mixed collection of a thousand plants and fail to find a worthless variety among them. Indeed, some of the very finest flowers I have ever had have been grown from collections that cost so little that one hardly expected to find anything but the commonest flowers among them.



LILIES

The Rose, like the Lily, is a general favorite. It has more than once disputed the claim of its rival to the title of Queen of Flowers, and though it has never succeeded in taking the place of the latter in the estimation of the average flower-lover, it occupies a position in the floral world that no other flower dare aspire to.

This plant does well only in soils that have the best of drainage. Water, if allowed to stand about its roots in spring, will soon be the death of it.

Therefore, in planting it be sure to choose a location that is naturally well drained, or provide artificial drainage that will make up for the lack of natural drainage. This is an item you cannot afford to overlook if you want to grow the finest varieties of Lilies in your garden. Some of our native Lilies grow on low lands, and do well there, but none of the choicer kinds would long survive under such conditions. The probabilities are that if we planted them there we would never see anything more of them.

The ideal soil for the Lily seems to be a fine loam. I have grown good ones, however, in a soil containing considerable clay and gravel. This was on a sidehill where drainage was perfect. Had the location been lower, or a level one, very likely the plants would not have done so well.

The bulbs should be put into the ground as early in September as possible.

On no account allow the bulbs to be exposed to the air. If you do, they will rapidly part with the moisture stored up in their scales, and this is their life-blood.

It is a good plan to put a handful of clean, coarse sand about each bulb at planting-time.

If barnyard manure is used,—and there is nothing better in the way of fertilizer for any bulb,—be sure that it is old and well rotted. On no account should fresh manure be allowed to come in contact with a Lily. If barnyard manure is not to be had, use bonemeal. Mix it well with the soil before putting the bulbs into it.

Bulbs of ordinary size should be planted about eight inches below the surface. If in groups, about a foot apart.

The best place for Lilies, so far as show goes, is among shrubbery, or in the border.

Below I give a list of the best varieties for general cultivation, with a brief description of each:

Auratum (the Gold-Banded Lily).—Probably the most popular member of the family, though by no means the most beautiful. Flowers white, dotted with crimson, with a gold band running through each petal.

Speciosum album.—A beautiful pure-white variety. Deliciously fragrant.

Speciosum rubrum (the Crimson-Banded Lily).—Flowers white with a red band down each petal.

Brownsii.—A splendid variety. Flowers very large, and trumpet-shaped. Chocolate-purple outside, pure white within, with dark brown stamens that contrast finely with the whiteness of the inner part of the petals.

Tigrinum (Tiger Lily).—One of the hardiest of all Lilies. Flowers orange-red, spotted with brownish-black. This will succeed where none of the others will. Should be given a place in all gardens.

Superbum.—The finest of all our native Lilies. Orange flowers, spotted with purple. Often grows to a height of eight feet, therefore is well adapted to prominent positions in the border.



While the Lily of the Valley is, strictly speaking, not a Lily, it deserves mention here. It is one of the most beautiful flowers we grow, of the purest white, and with the most delightful fragrance, and foliage that admirably sets off the exquisite loveliness of its flowers. No garden that "lives up to its privileges" will be without it. It does best in a shady place. Almost any soil seems to suit it. It is very hardy. It spreads rapidly, sending up a flower-stalk from every "pip." When the ground becomes completely matted with it, it is well to go over the bed and cut out portions here and there. The roots thus cut away can be broken apart and used in the formation of new beds, of which there can hardly be too many. The roots of the old plants will soon fill the places from which these were taken, and the old bed will be all the better for its thinning-out. Coming so early in spring, we appreciate this most beautiful plant more than we do any flower of the later season. And no flower of any time can excel it in daintiness, purity, and sweetness.



PLANTS FOR SPECIAL PURPOSES

Amateur gardeners are always wanting plants for some special purpose, and, for their benefit, I propose to devote this chapter to "special-purpose" information.

"What shall we grow to shade doors and windows? We want something that will grow rapidly. If a flowering vine, all the better, but shade is the all-important consideration."

The best large-growing vine for this purpose, all things considered, is the Wild Cucumber. No other annual vine exceeds it in rapidity of growth. It will grow twenty or twenty-five feet in a season, if given something to support it to that height, therefore it is very useful about the second-story windows, which height few of our annual vines attain. It has very bright-green, pretty foliage, somewhat resembling that of the native Grape, though not so large. About midsummer it comes into bloom. Its flowers are white,—delicate, fringy little things, in spikes, with a very agreeable fragrance, especially in the morning when wet with dew,—and there are so many of them that the vine looks as if drifted over with a fall of snow. The plant has tendrils by which it attaches itself to anything with which it comes in contact, consequently strings, latticework, or wire netting answer equally well for its support. Its tendency is to go straight up, if whatever support is given encourages it to do so, but if you think advisable to divert it from its upward course all you have to do is to stretch strings in whatever direction you want it to grow, and it will follow them. Its flowers are followed by balloon-shaped fruit, covered with prickly spines—little ball-shaped cucumbers, hence the popular name of the plant. When the seeds ripen, the ball or pod bursts open, and the black seeds are shot out with considerable force, often to a distance of twenty feet or more. In this way the plant soon spreads itself all over the garden, and next spring you will have seedling plants by the hundred. It soon becomes a wild plant, and is often seen growing all along the roadside, and never quite so much "at home" as when it finds a thicket of bushes to clamber over. It has one drawback, however, which will be especially noticeable when the plant is domesticated: Its early leaves ripen and fall off while those farther up the vine are in their prime, and remain so until frost comes. But this defect can easily be remedied by growing some tall plant at the base of the vines to hide their nakedness.

Another most excellent vine is the good old Morning Glory, with its blue, purple, violet, pink, carmine, and white flowers produced in such profusion that they literally cover its upper branches during the early part of the day. This is a very satisfactory vine to train about door and window. Do not give it ordinary twine as a support, as the weight of the vines, when well developed, is almost sure to break it down. Stout cord, such as is used in binding grain, is the best thing I know of, as it is rather rough, thus enabling the vine to take hold of it with good effect. This is a rapid grower, and a wonderfully free bloomer, and it will give you flowers throughout the season. It is much showier than the Wild Cucumber, but its foliage lacks the delicacy which characterizes that plant.

Another good vine for covering porches, verandas, and summer-houses, is the Japan Hop. This plant—it is an annual, like the other two of which mention has been made—has foliage of a rich, dark green, broadly and irregularly blotched and marbled with creamy white and pale yellow. It grows rapidly, and gives a dense shade.

"I would like a sort of hedge, or screen, between the flower and the vegetable garden. What plants would you advise for this purpose?"

The Zinnia is an excellent plant where a low hedge is desired. It averages a height of three feet. It is compact and symmetrical in habit, branching quite close to the ground. It is a rapid grower, and of the very easiest culture. It comes into bloom in July, and continues to produce great quantities of flowers, shaped like miniature Dahlias, in red, scarlet, pink, yellow, orange, and white, until frost comes. It makes a most gorgeous show.

Kochia, more commonly known as "Burning Bush" or "Mexican Fire-Plant," is a charming thing all through the season. In summer it is a pleasing green. In fall it turns to a brilliant red, hence its popular names, as given above. Its habit is very compact, and one of great symmetry. If the plants are set about a foot apart, and in two rows,—these rows a foot apart,—you will have a low hedge that will be as smooth as one of Arbor Vitae after the gardener has given it its annual shearing. When the bush takes on its autumnal coloring it is as showy as a plant can well be, and is always sure of attracting attention, and being greatly admired.

Amaranthus is another very pleasing plant for hedge purposes. It grows to a height of about four feet. Some varieties have a dark, bronze-green foliage, others foliage of a dull, rich Indian-red, while some are yellow-green—quite rare among plants of this class. The flowers, which are small, individually, are thickly set along pendant stems, and give the effect of ropes of chenille. In color they are a dull red, not at all showy in the sense of brilliance, but really charming when seen dropping in great profusion against the richly colored foliage. Our grandmothers grew the original varieties of this plant under the name of "Prince's Plume," "Prince's Feather," or "Love Lies Bleeding." But since the florists have taken it in hand, and greatly improved it, it no longer retains the good old names which always meant something. To secure the best results with this plant, when grown as a hedge or screen, set it in rows about a foot apart, each way, and use some of the dwarf sorts for the front row. Or a flowering plant of contrasting color—like the Nasturtium, or the double yellow Marigold, or the velvety African variety, with flowers of a dark maroon shading to blackish-brown—can be grown at its base, with fine effect.



Sweet Peas make a good screen if given proper support, and planted thickly.

"I would like a large group or bed of ornamental foliaged plants on the lawn, but have grown rather tired of Cannas and Caladiums. What would you suggest? I don't want anything hard to grow."

If very large plants are wanted, I would advise, as best of all, Ricinus, better known, perhaps, as Castor Bean, or Castor Plant. This is an annual of wonderfully vigorous growth. It often reaches a height of ten feet, in good soil, with a corresponding spread of branches. Its leaves are often a yard across, of a dark coppery bronze, with a purplish metallic lustre that makes the plant very striking. The best effect is secured by growing four or five plants in a group. None of the tropical plants that have come into prominence in gardening, during the past ten or twelve years, are nearly as effective as this easily-grown annual, whose seeds sell at five cents a package. For a very prominent location on the lawn or anywhere about the home-grounds no better plant could be selected.

The Amaranthus advised for hedge use makes a very showy circular bed on the lawn when grown in large masses, in the centre, surrounded with flowering plants of a strongly contrasting but harmonious color. The Calliopsis, rich golden-yellow marked with brown, combines charmingly with the dull, deep, rich reds which characterize the foliage and flowers of the most desirable varieties of this too much neglected annual. There are new varieties advertised of rather dwarf habit, with golden-green foliage, that could be used about the red-leaved kinds with fine effect.

"I would like a bed of very brilliant flowers for the front yard. Can't have many, for I haven't time to take care of them, so want those which will give the most show for the least trouble. Would like something so bright that it will compel people to stop and look at it. What shall I get?"

An exceedingly brilliant combination can be made by the use of scarlet Salvia, as the centre of a bed six or eight feet across, with Calliopsis surrounding it. The scarlet and yellow of these two flowers will make the place fairly blaze with color, and they will continue to bloom until frost comes. They require next to no care.

The annual Phlox makes a fine show if proper care is taken in the arrangement of the various colors with a view to contrast. The pale rose variety combines beautifully with the pure whites and pale yellows. A bed of these three colors alone will be found much more satisfactory than one in which a larger number of colors are used. Set each color in a row by itself. Such a bed will "compel" persons to stop and admire it, but they will do it for the sake of its beauty rather than its great brilliance.

Petunias are excellent plants for large beds where a strong show of color is desired. They bloom early, continue through the season, and require very little care.

The Shirley Poppy makes a brave show about the last of July, but after that it soon dies. If it were an all-season bloomer it would be one of our most popular plants for producing a brilliant effect. I would advise using it, and filling the bed in which it grew with other plants, after its flowering period was over. Its rich colors and satiny texture make it a plant that always attracts attention.

Scarlet Geraniums are used a great deal where a strong color-show is desired, but they are not as satisfactory as many other plants because of their ragged look, after a little, unless constantly given care. The first flowers in truss will fade, and their discolored petals will spoil the effect of the flowers that come after them if they are allowed to remain. It is not much of a task to go over the plants and pull out these faded flowers every, day, but we are not likely to do this. I prefer single Geraniums to double ones for garden use, because they drop their old petals, and never take on the ragged appearance which characterizes the ordinary bedding Geranium.

"I would like a low bed—that is, a bed near the path where it will be looked down upon. Tall plants would be out of place there. Tell me of a few of the best kinds for such a location."

The Portulacca is well adapted to such use, as it never grows to be more than three or four inches in height, but spreads in a manner to make it look like a green carpet, upon which it displays its flowers of red, rose, scarlet, yellow and white with very vivid effect. This plant might well be called a vegetable salamander, as it flourishes in dry, hot locations where other plants would utterly fail. It fairly revels in the hot sunshine of midsummer.

The good old Verbena is another very desirable plant for a low bed. It is of spreading habit, blooms profusely and constantly, and comes in a wide range of beautiful colors.

The Ageratum is a lovely plant for a low bed, with its great masses of soft lavender flowers. Fine effects are secured by using dark yellow Coleus or golden Pansies as an edging, these colors contrasting exquisitely with the dainty lavender-blue of the Ageratum.

"What flowers shall we grow to cut from? Would like something that is not coarse, and something that will bloom for a long time, and has long stems."

At the head of the list I would place the Sweet Pea. This is a favorite, everywhere, for cutting. The most useful varieties are the delicate rose and white ones, the pure whites, the pale pinks, the dainty lavenders, and the soft primrose yellows.

The Nasturtium is an old favorite for cutting, and a corner of every garden ought to be given up to a few plants of it for the special purpose of furnishing cut flowers.

The Aster is a magnificent flower,—it seems to be growing better and better each year, if such a thing is possible,—and nothing else among the annuals compares with it in lasting quality, when cut. If the water in which it is placed is changed daily, it will last for two weeks, and seem as fresh at the end of that time as when first cut. The most useful variety for cutting is the "Branching Aster," with stems a foot or more in length. This makes the flowers of this class particularly useful for vases. I would advise growing three colors, when it is wanted solely for cutting—white, pale rose, and delicate lavender.

The newer varieties of Dahlia—especially the "decorative" section—are superb for cutting. Their flowers are not formal like those of the old double kinds, and being borne on long stalks, they can be arranged very gracefully. Like the Aster, they last well. They will be found among the most useful of our late flowers for large vases, and where striking and brilliant effects of color are desired.

The Gladiolus is also well adapted to cutting, and is very effective when used in tall vases, the entire stalk being taken.

Scabiosa, often known as "Mourning Bride," is an excellent plant for vase-use, and deserves more attention than it has heretofore enjoyed. Its flowers are quite unlike most other annuals in color, and will be appreciated on that account. The dark purple varieties combine delightfully with those of a lighter tone in yellow, and with pure whites. As the blossoms are produced on long stems, they dispose themselves very gracefully when used in rather deep vases.

Every garden should have several plants of Mignonette in it, grown for the especial purpose of cutting from. This is one of the most fragrant flowers we have among the annuals.

For small vases—little vases for the breakfast table, or the desk, and for gifts to friends—one ought to grow quantities of Heliotropes, Tea Roses, and Pansies.

To cut from, early in spring, nothing is lovelier than the Lily of the Valley.

For larger vases, the Dicentra is always pleasing, coming close after the Lily of the Valley. Cut it with a good deal of foliage, and be careful to give each stalk ample room in which to adjust itself. A vase with a flaring top is what this flower ought to have, as its stalks have just the curve that fits the flare. A straight vase obliges it to stand up so primly that half the charm of the flower is destroyed.

For late fall cutting, there is no other flower quite equal to the Cosmos. The pink and white varieties are lovely when cut by the branch, and used in large vases. They seem especially adapted to church decoration.

"We want some flowers that will bloom late in the season. Are there any that can be depended on after early frosts?"

Yes. First on the list I would name the Aster. This sturdy annual is seldom at its best before the first frosts, and can be considered in its prime during the first half of October. And it will last until cold weather sets in.

Ten Week Stock—the "Gillyflower" of grandmother's garden—is a late bloomer. The snows of November often find it full of flowers, and are powerless to injure it. It is delightfully fragrant, and particularly adapted to cutting, because of its long spikes of bloom. It comes in white, rosy-purple, red, and sulphur-yellow.

The Marguerite Carnation deserves a place in every garden because of its great beauty, and its late-flowering habit. While not all the plants grown from seed will give double flowers, a large share of them will be so, and in form, size, and color they will compare very favorably with the greenhouse varieties of this favorite flower. Most of them will have the true Carnation fragrance. For choice little bouquets, for home use, or to give your especial friends nothing can be more satisfactory. You can expect a dozen flowers from each plant where you would get but one from the greenhouse sorts.



ARBORS, SUMMER-HOUSES, PERGOLAS, AND OTHER GARDEN FEATURES

Few persons who daily pass attractive homes in the suburban districts of our large cities and the outlying country, realize that much of their charm is due to effects which require a comparatively small outlay in dollars and cents. Good taste, combined with a degree of skill that is within reach of most of us, represent the chief part of the investment. And yet—these little, inexpensive things are the very ones that produce the pleasing effects we are all striving after in our efforts to make home attractive. Most of them convey an impression of being made for use, not show. They are in a class with the broad-seated, wide-armed "old hickory" rockers with which we make our modern verandas comfortable nowadays, and the hammock swung in shady places, wherein one may lie and take his ease, and forget everything but the fact that it is sometimes a pleasant thing to be lazy—frankly, unblushingly lazy. It is a healthy indication in our American life when so many persons go in for getting all the comfort they can from outdoors in summer. Every home whose grounds are large enough to accommodate them ought to have benches here and there, made for comfort, rather than looks, garden-seats, summer-houses—all suggestive of rest and relaxation. In this chapter I propose to briefly describe a few such home-made features, hoping that the man or boy who has the "knack" of using tools to advantage, actuated by a desire to make home-environments pleasant, may be led to copy some of them.

Let me say, right here, that the work demanded in the construction of rustic features about the home is just the kind of work I would encourage boys to undertake. It will be found so enjoyable that it will seem more like play than labor. There is the pleasure of planning it—the sense of responsibility and importance which comes to the lad who sets out to do something "all by himself," and the delightful consciousness that what is done may result in making home more home-like, and add to the comfort and pleasure of those whose love and companionship go to make home the best place on earth.



In constructing summer-houses, bridges, and other rustic work, there should be a careful plan made before the work is begun. Never work "by guess." Go at the undertaking precisely as the mechanic sets about the construction of a house. Draw a diagram of what the structure is to be. A rough diagram will answer quite as well as any, provided it covers all particulars.

Figure out just how much material the plan calls for. Get this on the ground before anything else is done. The material required will be poles of different sizes and lengths, large and substantial nails, a few planks for floors and benches—possibly tables—and shingles for covering such structures as need roofing in, unless bark is used for this purpose. Of course bark gives more of a "rustic" look to a roof, but it is not an easy matter to obtain a good quality of it, and shingles, stained a mossy-green or dark brown, will harmonize charmingly with the rest of the building, and furnish a much more substantial roof than it is possible to secure with even the best kind of bark.

If possible, use cedar poles in preference to any other, for several reasons: First of all, they are more ornamental, because of their bark, which is more permanent than that of any other wood. They are light, and easy to handle, and take a nail as readily as pine. And then—their aromatic odor makes it a constant delight to work among them to those who like sweet, fresh, wild-woody smells. But all kinds of poles can be substituted for cedar if that is not obtainable. The kind of wood used in the construction of rustic work is not a matter of prime importance, though it may be, and is, largely a matter of taste. But when we cannot do as we would like to we must do the best we can.

Provide yourself with a good saw, a hammer, a square, and a mitre-box. These will be all the tools you will be likely to need. Use spikes to fasten the larger timbers together, and smaller nails for the braces and ornamental work of the design. Speaking of ornamental work reminds me to say that the more crooked, gnarled, and twisted limbs and branches you can secure, the better will be the effect, as a general thing, for formality must be avoided as far as possible. We are not working according to a plan of Nature's but we are using Nature's material, and we must use it as it comes from Nature's hand in order to make it most effective.

Take pains in making joints. If everything is cut to the proper length and angle, it will fit together neatly, and only a neat job will be satisfactory.

Let me advise the reader who concludes to try his hand at the construction of rustic work to confine his selection of design to something not very elaborate. Leave that for wealthy people who can afford to have whatever their taste inclines them to, without regard to cost, and who give the work over to the skilled workman. I am considering matters from the standpoint of the home-maker, who believes we get more real pleasure out of what we make with our own hands than from that which we hire some one to make for us.

In one of the illustrations accompanying this chapter is shown a combination summer-house and arbor that is very easily made, and that will cost but little. The picture gives so clear an idea of framework and general detail that a description does not seem necessary. As a considerable weight will have to be supported by the roof, when vines have been trained over it, it will be necessary to use stout poles for uprights, and to run substantial braces from them to the cross-poles overhead. The built-in seats on each side add greatly to the comfort of the structure, and invite us to "little halts by the wayside," in which to "talk things over," or to quiet hours with a book that would lose half its charm if read indoors, as a companion. The original of this picture is built over a path that is sometimes used as a driveway, and is known as "the outdoor parlor" by the family on whose grounds it stands. You will find some member of the family there on every pleasant day, throughout the entire season, for it is fitted out with hammocks and swinging seats, and a table large enough to serve as tea-table, on occasion, with a cover that lifts and discloses a snug box inside in which books and magazines can be left without fear of injury in case of shower or damp weather. Tea served in such surroundings takes on a flavor that it never has indoors. The general design of this summer-house, as will readily be seen by the illustration, is simplicity itself, and can very easily be copied by the amateur workman.

It often happens that there are ravines or small depressions on the home-grounds over which a rustic bridge could be thrown with pleasing effect, from the ornamental standpoint, and prove a great convenience from the standpoint of practicality. If there is a brook there, all the better, but few of us, however, are fortunate enough to be owners of grounds possessing so charming a feature, and our bridges must be more ornamental in themselves than would be necessary if there was water to add its attraction to the spot.



One of the most delightful summer-houses I have ever seen was largely the result of an accident. An old tree standing near a path was broken down in a storm, some years ago, and a portion of its trunk was made use of as a support for one side of the roof. On the opposite side, rustic arches were used. The roof was shingled, and stained a dark green, thus bringing it into color-harmony with its surroundings. Over the roof a Wistaria was trained, and this has grown to such size that but few of the shingles are to be seen through its branches. About this spot the home-life of the family centres from April to late October. "We would miss it more than any part of the dwelling," its owner and builder said to me, when I asked permission to photograph it. I could readily understand the regard of the family for so beautiful a place, which, I have no doubt, cost less than one of the great flower-beds that we see on the grounds of wealthy people, and see without admiring, so formal and artificial are they, and so suggestive of professional work duplicated in other gardens until the very monotony of them becomes an offence to the eye of the man or woman who believes in individuality and originality.

Rustic fences between lots are great improvements on the ordinary boundary fence, especially if vines are trained over them. They need not be elaborate in design to be attractive. If made of poles from which the bark has been taken, they should be stained a dark green or brown to bring them into harmony with their surroundings.

Screen-frames of rustic work, as a support for vines, to hide unsightly outbuildings, are far preferable to the usual one of wood with wire netting stretched over it. They will cost no more than one of lattice, and will be vastly more pleasing, in every respect.

Gateways can be made exceedingly pleasing by setting posts at each side of the gate, and fashioning an arch to connect them, at the top. Train a vine, like Ampelopsis, over the upper part of the framework, and you make even the simplest gateway attractive.

A garden-seat, with a canopy of vines to shade it, may not be any more comfortable, as a seat, than any wooden bench, but the touch of beauty and grace imparted by the vine that roofs it makes it far more enjoyable than an expensive seat without the vine would be to the person who has a taste for pleasing and attractive things, simply because it pleases the eye by its outlines, thus appealing to the sense of the beautiful. Beauty is cheap, when looked at from the right standpoint, which is never one of dollars and cents. It is just these little things about a place that do so much to make it home-like, as you will readily see if, when you find a place that pleases you, you take the trouble to analyze the secret of its attractiveness.

The pergola has not been much in evidence among us until of late. A rapidly increasing taste for the attractive features of old-world, outdoor life in sunny countries where much of the time is spent outside the dwelling, and the introduction of the "Italian garden" idea, have given it a popularity in America that makes it a rival of the arbor or summer-house, and bids fair to make it a thing of permanence among us.

The question is frequently asked by those who have read about pergolas, but have never seen one, as to wherein they differ from the ordinary arbor. The difference is more in location, material, and manner of construction than anything else. They are generally built of timber that can be given a coating of paint, with more or less ornamental pillars or supports and rafters, and are constructed along definite architectural lines. They are, in fact, ornamental structures over which vines are to be trained loosely with a view to tempering the sunshine rather than excluding it. The framework of the arbor, as a general thing, is considered secondary to the effect produced by it when the vines we plant about it are developed. But, unlike the Americanized pergola, the arbor is almost always located in a retired or inconspicuous part of the home-grounds, and is seldom found connected with the dwelling. To get the benefit of the arbor, or the summer-house we evolve from it, we must go to it, while the pergola, as adapted by most of us, brings the attractive features of out-door life to the house, thus combining out- and in-door life more intimately than heretofore. One of the illustrations accompanying this chapter shows a very simple pergola framework—one that can be built cheaply, and by any man or boy who is at all "handy with tools," and can be used as a plan to work from by anyone who desires to attach a modification of the pergola proper to the dwelling, for the purpose of furnishing shade to portions of it not provided with verandas. It will require the exercise of but little imagination to enable one to see what a charming feature of the home such a structure will be when vines have been trained over it. There are many homes that would be wonderfully improved by the addition of something of this kind, with very little trouble and expense. It is to be hoped that many a housewife can prevail on the "men-folks" to interest themselves on pergola-building on a small scale, as indicated in the illustration, for practical as well as ornamental reasons. Anything that will take the occupants of the dwelling out of doors is to be encouraged. Especially would the women of the household enjoy a vine-shaded addition of this kind, during the intervals of leisure that come during the day, and the head of the family would find it an ideal place in which to smoke his evening pipe. In several respects it can be made much more satisfactory than a veranda. It can be made larger—roomier, and there will be more of an out-door atmosphere about it because of its airiness, and the play of light and shade through the vines that clamber overhead. Pergolas of elaborate design need not be described here, as they properly belong to homes not made attractive by the individual efforts of the home owner. They are better adapted to the grounds of wealthy people, who are not obliged to consider expense, and who are not actively interested in the development of the home by themselves.



What vines would I advise for use about arbors, summer-houses, and pergolas?

The Wild Grape, though not much used, is one of our best native vines. It has the merit of rapid growth, entire hardiness, luxuriant foliage and delightful habit, and when in bloom it has a fragrance that is as exquisite as it is indescribable—one of those vague, elusive, and yet powerful odors so characteristic of spring flowers. You will smell it—the air will be full of it—and yet it will puzzle you to locate it. The wind will blow from you and it will be gone. Then a breeze will blow your way, and the air will suddenly be overpoweringly sweet with the scent shaken free from blossoms so small as to be hardly noticeable unless one makes a careful search for them. Then, too, the fruit is not only attractive to the eye in fall, but pleasant to the taste of those who delight in the flavor of wild things, among whom we must class the robins, who will linger about the vine until the last berry is gone.



Another most excellent vine for covering these structures is our native Ampelopsis, better known as American Ivy, or Virginia Creeper. This vine is of exceedingly rapid growth, and will accomplish more in one season than most other vines do in two or three years. Its foliage is beautiful at all times, but especially so in late autumn when it takes on a brilliance that makes it a rival of the flower. In fact, every leaf of it seems all at once to become a flower, glowing with scarlet and maroon of varying shades, with here and there a touch of bronze to afford contrast and heighten the intensity of the other colors. This vine is perhaps the best of all vines for use on rustic structures, because it takes hold of rough poles and posts with stout little tendrils or sucker-like discs which ask for no assistance from us in the way of support.

Another most charming vine is Clematis paniculata. This is a variety of the Clematis family of comparatively recent introduction, quite unlike the large-flowering class. It has white flowers, small individually, but produced in such enormous quantities that the upper portions of the vine seem to be covered with foam, or a light fall of snow. They will entirely hide the foliage with their dainty, airy grace, and you will declare, when you first see the plant in full bloom, that it is the most beautiful thing you ever saw in the way of a vine. And not the least of its merits is its habit of flowering at a time when most vines have passed into the sere-and-yellow-leaf period. September and October see it in its prime. Its foliage, of dark, rich, glossy green, furnishes a most pleasing background against which its countless panicles of white bloom stand out with most striking and delightful effect. I have no knowledge of a more floriferous vine, and I know of no more beautiful one. As a covering for the pergola attached to the house it is unrivalled.

In the southern belt of our northern states, where the Wistaria is hardy enough to withstand the winter, no more satisfactory flowering vine can be chosen for a pergola covering. Its habit of growth and flowering seems perfectly in harmony with the primary idea of the pergola. It will furnish all the shade that is needed without shutting out the sunshine entirely, and its pendant clusters of lavender-blue flowers are never more pleasing than when seen hanging between the cross-bars of the pergola.

If the person who builds a summer-house or a pergola is impatient for results it will be well to make use of annual vines for covering it the first season, though something of a more permanent nature should always be planned for. One of our best annuals, so far as rapidity of growth is concerned, is the Wild Cucumber, of which mention was made in the preceding chapter. Because of its rapid development, the usefulness of the plant for immediate effects will be readily understood. But it is valuable only as a substitute for something more substantial and should not be depended on after the first season. It lacks the dignity and strength of a permanent vine.

The Morning Glory will be found very effective for a first-season covering. This vine is prodigal in its production of flowers. Every sunny day, throughout the season, it will be covered with blossoms, so many in number that they make a veritable "glory" of the forenoon hours.

Another excellent annual is the Japan Hop. This will perhaps afford better satisfaction than the Wild Cucumber or the Morning Glory, because its foliage bears some resemblance to that of the hardy vines of which I have spoken. In other words, it has more substance and dignity, and therefore seems more in harmony with the structure over which it is trained. Its leaves have a variegation of creamy white on a dark green ground. This makes it as ornamental as if it were a flowering plant.

Every home ought to have its "playhouse" for children. If fitted with screens to keep out mosquitoes, the younger members of the family, especially the girls, will literally "live in it" for six months of the year. I would suggest fitting it with canvas curtains to shut out wind and rain. I would also advise making it of good size, for the children will take delight in entertaining visitors in it, and a tiny structure is not convenient for the entertainment of "company." Such a building can be made as ornamental as any arbor or pergola at slight cost, when vines are used to hide the shortcomings of its material and construction. Be sure it will be appreciated by the little folks, and quite likely some of the "children of a larger growth" will dispute its occupancy with them, at times, if there is no other building of its kind about the place.



CARPET-BEDDING

Carpet-Bedding is not the most artistic phase of gardening, by any means, but it has a great attraction for many persons who admire masses of harmonious and contrasting colors more than the individual beauty of a flower. Therefore a chapter on this subject will no doubt be gladly welcomed by those who have seen the striking effects secured by the use of plants having ornamental or richly colored foliage, in our large public parks, and on the grounds of the wealthy.

Let me say, just here, that the person who attempts what, for want of a better name, might be called pictorial gardening, is wise if he selects a rather simple pattern, especially at the outset of his career in this phase of garden-work. Intricate and elaborate designs call for more skill in their successful working out than the amateur is likely to be master of, and they demand a larger amount of time and labor than the average amateur florist will be likely to expend upon them. And the fact should never be lost sight of that failure to give all the care needed brings about most discouraging results. This being the case, select a design in which the effect aimed at can be secured by broad masses of color, depending almost wholly on color-contrast for pleasing results. Bear in mind that this "school" of pictorial art belongs to the "impressionistic" rather than the "pre-Raphaelite," about which we hear so much nowadays, and leave the fine work to the professional gardener, or wait until you feel quite sure of your ability to attempt it with a reasonably good show of success.

Some persons are under the impression that flowering plants can be used to good effect in carpet-bedding. This is not the case, however. In order to bring out a pattern or design fully and clearly, it is absolutely necessary that we make use of plants which are capable of giving a solid color-effect. This we obtain from foliage, but very few flowering plants are prolific enough of bloom to give the desired result. The effect will be thin and spotty, so never depend on them. Quite often they can be used in combination with plants having ornamental foliage in such a manner as to secure pleasing results, but they always play a secondary part in this phase of gardening.

The best plants to use in carpet-bedding are the following:

Coleus, in various shades of red, maroon, and scarlet, light and dark yellow, green and white, and varieties in which colors and shades of color are picturesquely blended.

Achyranthes, low-growing plants in mixtures of red, pink, yellow and green.

Alternatheras, similar to Achyranthes in habit, but with red as a predominating color. Both are excellent for working out the finer details of a design.

Pyrethrum—"Golden Feather"—with feathery foliage of a tawny yellow.

Centaurea gymnocarpa,—"Dusty Miller,"—with finely-cut foliage of a cool gray.

Geranium Madame Salleroi—with pale green and white foliage. This is a most excellent plant for use in carpet-bedding because of its close, compact habit of growth, and its very symmetrical shape which is retained throughout the entire season without shearing or pruning.

It must be borne in mind by the amateur florist that success in carpet-bedding depends nearly as much on the care given as on the material used. In order to bring out a design sharply, it is necessary to go over the bed at least twice a week and cut away all branches that show a tendency to straggle across the boundary line of the various colors. Run your pruning shears along this line and ruthlessly cut away everything that is not where it belongs. If this is not done, your "pattern" will soon become blurred and indistinct. If any intermingling of colors "from across the line" is allowed, all sharpness of outline will be destroyed.

The plants must be clipped frequently to keep them dwarf and compact. Make it a point to keep the larger-growing kinds, such as Coleus, Pyrethrum and Centaurea, under six inches in height rather than over it. Alternatheras and Achyranthes will need very little shearing, as to top, because of their habit of low growth.

In setting these plants in the bed, be governed by the habit of each plant. Achyranthes and Alternatheras, being the smallest, should be put about four inches apart. Give the Coleus about six inches of lee-way, also the Centaurea. Allow eight inches for Madame Salleroi Geranium and Pyrethrum. These will soon meet in the row and form a solid line or mass of foliage.

So many persons have asked for designs for carpet-bedding, that I will accompany this chapter with several original with myself which have proved very satisfactory. Some of them may seem rather complicated, but when one gets down to the business of laying them out, the seeming complications will vanish.

In laying out all but the star-shaped and circular beds, it is well to depend upon a square as the basis to work from. Decide on the size of bed you propose to have, and then stake out a square as shown by the dotted lines in design No. 1, and work inside this square in filling in the details. If this is done, the work will not be a difficult one.



Design No. 1 will be found easy to make and admits of many pleasing combinations and modifications. Each gardener who sees fit to adopt any of these designs should study out a color-scheme of his own. Knowing the colors of the material he has to work with it will not be difficult to arrange these colors to suit individual taste. I think this will be more satisfactory than to give any arbitrary arrangement of colors, for half the pleasure of gardening consists in originating things of this kind, rather than copying what some one else has originated, or of following instructions given by others. This does not apply so much to designs for beds as it does to the colors we make use of in them.



In the designs accompanying this chapter it will be seen that simple plans are made capable of producing more elaborate effects by making use of the dotted lines. Indeed, one can make these designs quite intricate by dividing the different spaces as outlined in No. 2. A plain centre with a plain point, as shown in a, shows the bed in its very simplest form. In g, c, and d, we see these points with three different arrangements suggested, and the dotted line in the central portion indicates a change that can be made there that will add considerably to the effectiveness of the design. A little study of other designs will, I think, make them so plain that they can be worked out with but little trouble.



I would suggest that before deciding on any color-combinations, a rough diagram be made of whatever bed you select and that this be colored to correspond with the material you have to work with. Seeing these colors side by side on paper will give you a better idea of the general effect that will result from any of your proposed combinations than you can get in any other way, and to test them in this manner may prevent you from making some serious mistakes.



It will be necessary to go over the beds every day or two and remove all dead or dying leaves. Neatness is an item of the greatest importance in this phase of gardening, or any other, for that matter.



Large plants can be used in the centre of any of these designs, if one cares to do so, with very good effect. For this purpose we have few plants that will give greater satisfaction than the Dahlia. Scarlet Salvia would be very effective if yellow Coleus were used about it, but it would not please if surrounded with red Coleus, as the red of the plant and the red of the flower would not harmonize. A Canna of rich, dark green would make a fine centre plant for a bed in which red Coleus served as a background. One of the dark copper-colored varieties would show to fine effect if surrounded with either yellow Pyrethrum or gray Centaurea.



Ageratum, with its delicate lavender-blue flowers, can be made extremely attractive in combination with yellow Coleus. A pink Geranium surrounded with gray Centaurea would be delightful in the harmony that would result from a combination of these colors.



Nos. 7 and 8 illustrate the simplest possible form of bed. No. 7 is designed for plants to be set in rows. In a bed of this kind flowering plants can be used more effectively than in any of the others. Pink, white, and pale yellow Phlox would be very pretty in such a combination. No. 8 would be quite effective if each of the five sections were of a different color of Coleus. Or the whole star might be of a solid color, with a border of contrasting color. Red Coleus with Madame Salleroi Geranium as a border would look well. So would yellow Coleus edged with Centaurea.



FLOWERING AND FOLIAGE PLANTS FOR EDGING BEDS AND WALKS

We do not lay as much stress on edging beds and walks with flowering plants as formerly, but the practice is a most pleasing one, and ought not to be neglected. It is one of the phases of gardening that has been allowed to fall into disuse, to a considerable extent, but there are already signs that show it is coming back to its old popularity, along with the old-fashioned flowers that are now more in favor than ever before. This is as it should be.

A bed without a pretty border or edging always seems incomplete to me. It is as if the owner of it ran short of material before it was finished. The bit of lace or ribbon that is to add the last touch of grace and beauty to the gown is lacking.

Especially is a border of flowering plants satisfactory if kinds are selected which bloom throughout the greater part of the season. The plants we make use of in the centre of the bed are not always attractive before they come into bloom, neither are they that after they have passed their prime, but a pretty edging of flowers draws attention from their shortcomings, and always pleases.

One of our best flowering plants for edging purposes is Candytuft. It comes into bloom early in the season, and blooms in great profusion until the coming of frost. Keep it from developing seed and it will literally cover itself with bloom. I would advise going over it twice a week and clipping off every cluster of faded blossoms. This answers two purposes—that of preventing the formation of seed, and of removing what would be a disfigurement to the plant if it were allowed to remain.

There are two varieties of Candytuft in cultivation—one white, the other a dull red. The white variety is the one most persons will select, as it harmonizes with all other plants. But the red sort is very pleasing when used with harmonious colors. I last year saw a bed of Nasturtium bordered with it, and the effect was delightful. Its dull color blended well with the richer, stronger tones of the Nasturtium flowers, and gave them an emphasis that was suggestive of the effect of dull, rich colors used in old rugs in heightening and bringing out, by contrast, the brighter colors.

In using Candytuft for edging, set the plants about a foot apart. I would advise two rows of them, placing the plants in such a manner that they alternate in the rows. Do not attempt to train them. Let them do that for themselves. One of their most attractive features is their lack of formality when allowed to grow to suit themselves. Very pleasing results are secured by using the white and red varieties together, the colors alternating. If the centre of the bed is filled with "Golden Feather" Pyrethrum and these two Candytufts are used as an edging, the effect will be very fine as the dull red admirably supplements the greenish-yellow color of the Pyrethrum, while the white relieves what, without it, would be too sombre a color-scheme.

Sweet Alyssum is excellent for edging purposes. Its general effect is quite similar to that of the white Candytuft, but it has greater delicacy of both bloom and foliage, and the additional merit of a delightful fragrance.

Ageratum is lovely for edging beds of pink Geraniums, its soft lavender tones being in perfect harmony with their color. It is equally satisfactory when used with pale rose Phlox Drummondi, or the soft yellow shades of that flower. Combine the three colors in a bed and you will have something unusually dainty and delightful. One of the prettiest beds I saw last summer was filled with Sweet Alyssum, and edged with Ageratum. If there was any unfavorable criticism to be made, it was that a touch of some brighter, stronger color was needed to relieve its white and lavender. A free-flowering rose-colored Geranium in its centre, or a pink Verbena, would have added much to the general effect, I fancy. As it was, it was suggestive of old blue-and-white Delft, and the collector of that ware would have gone into raptures over it.

For a permanent edging, for beds, paths, and the border, Bellis perennis, whose popular name is English Daisy, is one of the best of all plants. It is entirely hardy. It blooms early in the season. It is wonderfully generous in its production of flowers. These are small, and very double, some pink, some almost white, produced on short stems which keep them close to the ground and prevent them from straggling. Its thick, bright green foliage furnishes a charming background against which the blossoms display themselves effectively. It is a plant that does well everywhere, and is always on good terms with everything else in the garden, as will be seen by the illustration that shows it in full bloom, along with Pansies and Hyacinths. Because of its compact, non-straggling habit it is especially useful for bordering paths and the border, permitting the use of the lawn-mower or the rake with perfect freedom. Plants should be set about eight inches apart. If you have but few plants of it and desire more, pull the old plants apart in spring and make a new one out of each bit that comes away with a piece of root attached. By fall the young plants will have grown together and formed a solid mass of foliage, with a great many "crowns" from which flowers will be produced the following season. Florists can generally furnish seedling plants in spring, from which immediate effects can be secured by close planting.



One of the best—if not the best—plants for all-around use in edging is Madame Salleroi Geranium. It is quite unlike any other Geranium of which I have any knowledge, in general habit. It forms a bushy, compact plant, and bears a solid mass of foliage. No attention whatever is required in the way of pruning. The plant trains itself. The ordinary flowering Geranium must be pinched back, and pruned constantly to prevent it from becoming "leggy," but there is no trouble of this kind with Madame Salleroi. Its branches, of which there will often be fifty or more from a plant, are all sent up from the crown of the plant, and seldom grow to be more than five or six inches in length. Each branch may have a score of leaves, borne on stems about four inches long. These leaves are smaller than those of any other Geranium. Their ground color is a pale green, and every leaf is bordered with creamy white. This combination of color makes the plant as attractive as a flowering one. It is a favorite plant for house-culture in winter, and those who have a specimen that has been carried over can pull it apart in May and plant each bit of cutting in the ground where it is to grow during summer, feeling sure that not one slip out of twenty will fail to grow if its base is inserted about an inch deep in soil which should be pinched firmly about it to hold it in place while roots are forming. Set the cuttings about ten inches apart. By midsummer the young plants will touch each other, and from that time on to the coming of frost your border will be a thing of beauty, and one of the delightful things about it will be—it will require no attention whatever from you. Never a branch will have to be shortened to keep it within bounds. No support will be needed. The plants will take care of themselves. I have never had a plant that is easier to grow. It harmonizes with everything. Seen against the green of the lawn it is charming. All things considered, it is an ideal plant for edging. In combination with scarlet and yellow Coleus it is exceedingly effective, because of its strong color-contrast.

Most amateur gardeners are familiar with the various merits of Coleus, Alternatheras, Achyranthes, "Golden Feather" Pyrethrum, and Centaurea maritima, better known as "Dusty Miller" because of its gray foliage. These are all good, when properly cared for, when used for edging beds and borders. Especially so when used with Cannas, Caladiums, and other plants of striking foliage, where their rich colors take the place of flowers.

Phlox decussata, commonly known as "Moss Pink" because of its fine foliage and bright pink flowers, is a most excellent plant for the hardy border, because it stands our winters quite as well as the hardiest perennials. Early in spring it will cover itself with charming blossoms that are as cheerful to look at as the song of the robin or the blue bird is to hear. It is a lovable little thing, and has but one rival among early-flowering plants for edging, and that rival is the English Daisy.



PLANNING THE GARDEN

The flower garden not being one of the necessities of life, in the usual sense of the term, people are likely to consider the making of it of so little importance that it is hardly worth while to give the matter much consideration. Consequently they simply dig up a bed here and there, sow whatever seed they happen to have, and call the thing done.

A haphazard garden of that sort is never satisfactory. In order to make even the smallest garden what it ought to be it should be carefully planned, and every detail of it well thought out before the opening of the season.

To insure thoroughness in this part of the work I would advise the garden-maker to make a diagram of it as he thinks he would like to have it. Sketch it out, no matter how roughly. When you have a map of it on paper you will be able to get a much clearer idea of it than you can obtain from any merely mental plan.

After locating your beds, decide what kind of flower you will have in each one. But before you locate your plants study your catalogue carefully, and make yourself familiar with the heights and habits of them. Quite likely this will lead to a revision of your mental diagram, for you may find that you have proposed to put low-growing kinds in the rear of tall-growing sorts, and tall-growing kinds where they would seriously interfere with the general effect.

Bear in mind that there is always a proper place for each plant you make use of—if you can find it. The making of a working diagram and the study of the leading characteristics of the plants you propose to use will help you to avoid mistakes that might seriously interfere with the effectiveness of your garden.

Do not attempt more than you are sure of your ability to carry through well. Many persons allow the enthusiasm of the spring season to get the better of their judgment, and lead them into undertaking to do so much that after a little the magnitude of the work discourages them, and, as a natural result, the garden suffers seriously, and often proves a sad failure. Bear in mind that a few really good plants will give a hundredfold more pleasure than a great many mediocre ones. Therefore concentrate your work, and aim at quality rather than quantity. Never set out to have so large a garden that the amount of labor you have to expend on it will be likely to prove a burden rather than a pleasurable recreation.



Do not attempt anything elaborate in a small garden. Leave fancy beds and striking designs to those who have a sufficient amount of room at their disposal to make them effective.

I would advise keeping each kind of plant by itself, as far as possible. Beds in which all colors are mixed promiscuously are seldom pleasing because there are sure to be colors there that are out of harmony with others, and without color-harmony a garden of most expensive plants must prove a failure to the person of good taste.

I would not, therefore, advise the purchase of "mixed" seed, in which most persons invest, because it is cheaper than that in which each color is by itself. This may cost more, but it is well worth the additional expense. Take Phlox Drummondi as an illustration of the idea governing this advice: If mixed seed is used, you will have red, pink, mauve, scarlet, crimson, violet, and lilac in the same bed,—a jumble of colors which can never be made to harmonize and the effect of which will be very unpleasant. On the other hand, by planning your bed in advance of making it, with color-harmony in mind, you can so select and arrange your colors that they will not only harmonize, but afford a contrast that will heighten the general effect greatly. For instance, you can use rose-color, white and pale yellow varieties together, or scarlet and white, or carmine and pale yellow, and these combinations will be in excellent harmony, and give entire satisfaction. The mauves, lilacs, and violets, to be satisfactory, should only be used in combination with white varieties. I am speaking of the Phlox, but the rule which applies to this plant applies with equal force to all plants in which similar colors are to be found.

If there are unsightly places anywhere about the grounds aim to hide them under a growth of pretty vines. An old fence can be made into a thing of beauty when covered with Morning Glories or Nasturtiums. By the use of a trellis covered with Sweet Peas, or a hedge of Zinnia, or of Cosmos, we can shut off the view of objectionable features which may exist in connection with the garden. Outhouses can be completely hidden in midsummer by planting groups of Ricinus about them, and filling in with Hollyhocks, and Delphinium, and Golden Glow, and other tall-growing plants. In planning your garden, study how to bring about these desirable results.

Keep in mind the fact that if you go about garden-making in a haphazard way, and happen to get plants where they do not belong, as you are quite likely to do unless you know them well, you have made a mistake which cannot be rectified until another season. This being the case, guard against such mistakes by making sure that you know just what plant to use to produce the effect you have in mind.

Plan to have a selection of plants that will give flowers throughout the entire season. The majority of annuals bloom most profusely in June and July, but the prevention of seed-development will force them into bloom during the later months.

Plan to have a few plants in reserve, to take the places of those which may fail. Something is liable to happen to a plant, at any time, and unless you have material at hand with which to make good the loss, there will be a bare spot in your beds that will be an eye-sore all the rest of the season.

Plan to have the lowest growers near the path, or under the sitting-room windows where you can look down upon them.

Plan to have a back-yard garden in which to give the plants not needed in the main garden a place. There will always be seedlings to thin out, and these ought not to be thrown away. If planted in some out-of-the-way place they will furnish you with plenty of material for cutting, and this will leave the plants in the main garden undisturbed.



THE BACK-YARD GARDEN

A great deal is written about the flower-garden that fronts the street, or is so located that it will attract the passer-by, but it is seldom that we see any mention made of the garden in the back-yard. One would naturally get the idea that the only garden worth having is the one that will attract the attention of the stranger, or the casual visitor.

I believe in a flower-garden that will give more pleasure to the home and its inmates than to anyone else, and where can such a garden be located with better promise of pleasurable results than by the kitchen door, where the busy housewife can blend the brightness of it with her daily work, and breathe in the sweetness of it while about her indoor tasks? It doesn't matter if its existence is unknown to the stranger within the gates, or that the passer-by does not get a glimpse of it. It works out its mission and ministry of cheer and brightness and beauty in a way that makes it the one garden most worth having. Ask the busy woman who catches fleeting glimpses of the beauty in it as she goes about her work, and she will tell you that it is an inspiration to her, and that the sight of it rests her when most weary, and that its nearness makes it a companion that seems to enter into all her moods.

Last year I came across such a garden, and it pleased me so much that I have often looked back to it with a delightful memory of its homeliness, its utter lack of formality, and wished that it were possible for me to let others see it as I saw it, for, were they to do so, I feel quite sure every home would have one like it.

"I never take any pains with it," the woman of the home said to me, half apologetically. "That is, I don't try to make it like other folks' gardens. I don't believe I'd enjoy it so much if I were to. You see, it hasn't anything of the company air about it. It's more like the neighbor that 'just drops in' to sit a little while, and chat about neighborhood happenings that we don't dare to speak about when some one comes to make a formal call. I love flowers so much that it seemed as if I must have a few where I could see them, while I was busy in the kitchen. You know, a woman who does her own housework can't stop every time she'd like to to run out to the front-yard garden. So I began to plant hardy things here, and I've kept on ever since, till I've quite a collection, as you see. Just odds and ends of the plants that seem most like folks, you know. It doesn't amount to much as a garden, I suppose most folks would think, but you've no idea of the pleasure I get out of it. Sometimes when I get all fagged out over housework I go out and pull weeds in it, and hoe a little, and train up the vines, and the first I know I'm ready to go back to work, with the tired feeling all gone. And do you know—the plants seem to enjoy it as much as I do? They seem to grow better here than I could ever coax them to do in the front yard. But that's probably because they get the slops from the kitchen, and the soap-suds, every wash-day. It doesn't seem as if I worked among them at all. It's just play. The fresh air of outdoors does me more good, I'm sure, than all the doctors' tonics. And I'm not the only one in the family that enjoys them. The children take a good deal of pride in 'mother's garden,' and my husband took time, one day, in the busiest part of the season, to put up that frame by the door, to train Morning Glories over."

In this ideal home-garden were old-fashioned Madonna Lilies, such as I had not seen for years, and Bouncing Bets, ragged and saucy as ever, and Southernwood, that gave off spicy odors every time one touched it, and Aquilegias in blue and white and red, Life Everlasting, and Moss Pink, and that most delicious of all old-fashioned garden flowers, the Spice Pink, with its fringed petals marked with maroon, as if some wayside artist had touched each one with a brush dipped in that color for the simple mischief of the thing, and Hollyhocks, Rockets—almost all the old "stand-bys." There was not one "new" flower there. If it had been, it would have seemed out of place. The Morning Glories were just getting well under way, and were only half-way up the door-frame, but I could see, with my mind's eye, what a beautiful awning they would make a little later. I could imagine them peering into the kitchen, like saucy, fun-loving children, and laughing good-morning to the woman who "loved flowers so well she couldn't get along without a few."

You see, she was successful with them because she loved them. Because of that, the labor she bestowed upon them was play, not work. They were friends of hers, and friendship never begrudges anything that gives proof of its existence in a practical way. And the flowers, grateful for the friendship which manifested itself in so many helpful ways, repaid her generously in beauty and brightness and cheer by making themselves a part of her daily life.

By all means, have a back-yard garden.



THE WILD GARDEN

A PLEA FOR OUR NATIVE PLANTS

Many persons, I find, are under the impression that we have few, if any, native flowering plants and shrubs that are worthy a place in the home-garden. They have been accustomed to consider them as "wild things," and "weeds," forgetting or overlooking the fact that all plants are wild things and weeds somewhere. So unfamiliar are they with many of our commonest plants that they fail to recognize them when they meet them outside their native haunts. Some years ago I transplanted a Solidago,—better known as a "Golden Rod,"—from a fence-corner of the pasture, and gave it a place in the home-garden. There it grew luxuriantly, and soon became a great plant that sent up scores of stalks each season as high as a man's head, every one of them crowned with a plume of brilliant yellow flowers. The effect was simply magnificent.

One day an old neighbor came along, and stopped to chat with me as I worked among my plants.

"That's a beauty," he said as he leaned across the fence near the Golden Rod. "I don't know's I ever saw anything like it before. I reckon, now, you paid a good deal of money for that plant."

"How much do you think it cost me?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't know," he answered, looking at the plant admiringly, and then at some of foreign origin, near-by. He knew something about the value of these, as he had one of them growing in his garden. He seemed to be making a mental calculation, based on the relative beauty of the plants, and presently he said:

"I ain't much of a judge of such things, but I wouldn't wonder if you paid as much as three—mebby four—an' like's not five dollars for it."

"The plant cost me nothing but the labor of bringing it from the pasture," I answered. "Don't you know what it is? There's any quantity of it back of your barn, I notice."

"You don't mean to say that's yaller-weed," exclaimed the old gentleman, with a disgusted look on his face. "I wouldn't have it in my yard. We've got weeds enough 'thout settin' 'em out". He went away with a look on his face that made me think he felt as if he had been imposed on.

While it is true, in many instances, that "familiarity breeds contempt," it is equally true that familiarity without prejudice would open our eyes to the fact that beauty exists all about us—in lane, and field, and roadside, and forest. We are not aware of the prevalence of it until we go in search of it. When we go out with "the seeing eye," we find it everywhere. Nothing is so plentiful or so cheap as beauty to the lover of the beautiful. It may be had for the taking. We have fallen into the habit of looking to foreign lands for plants with which to beautify our gardens, thus neglecting and ignoring the beauty at our own doors. A shrub with a long name and a good big price attached will win our admiration, while a native plant, vastly more desirable, will be wholly overlooked. It ought not to be so. "Home first, the world afterward" is the motto of many patriotic men and women, and it ought to be the motto of the lover of the beautiful in plant-life when he is seeking for something with which to ornament the home-grounds.

Many persons have, however, become greatly interested in our native plants, and it is apparent that the interest of the masses in whatever is beautiful is steadily increasing. The people are being educated to a keener appreciation of beauty than ever before. It is encouraging to know that a demand has sprung up for shrubs and plants of American origin—a demand so large, already, that many nurserymen advertise collections of native plants, some of them quite extensive. Appreciation of true beauty is putting a value into things which have heretofore had no idea of value connected with them.

The dominant idea I had in mind, when this chapter was planned, was that of enlisting the boys and girls in the work of making a collection of native plants. I would have them make what might properly be called a wild garden. But I would not confine the undertaking to the boys and girls. I would interest the man or woman who has a home to make beautiful in the material that is to be found on every hand, waiting to be utilized. Such a garden can be made of great educational value, and, at the same time, quite as ornamental as the garden that contains nothing but foreign plants. It can be made to assist in the development of patriotic as well as aesthetic ideas. It can be made to stimulate a healthy rivalry among the boys and girls, as well as the "children of a larger growth," as to whose collection shall be most complete. In the care and culture of these plants a skill and knowledge may be attained that will be of much benefit to them in the future, and possibly to the world. Who knows? We may have among us a young Linnaeus, or a Humboldt, and the making of a wild garden may tend to the discovery and development of a talent which coming years may make us proud to do honor to the possessor of.

I would suggest the formation of a wild-garden society in each country village and neighborhood. Organize expeditions into the surrounding country in search of shrubs and plants. Such excursions can be made as delightful as a picnic. Take with you a good-sized basket, to contain the plants you gather, and some kind of a tool to dig the plants with—and your dinner. Lift the plants very carefully, with enough earth about them to keep their roots moist. On no account should their roots be allowed to get dry. If this happens you might as well throw them away, at once, as no amount of after-attention will undo the damage that is done by neglect to carry out this advice.



The search for plants should begin early in the season if they are to be transplanted in spring, for it would not be safe to attempt their removal after they have begun to make active growth. April is a good time to look up your plants, and May a good time to bring them home. Later on, when you come across a plant that seems a desirable addition to your collection, mark the place where it grows, and transplant to the home grounds in fall, after its leaves have ripened.

In transplanting shrubs and herbaceous plants, study carefully the conditions under which they have grown, and aim to make the conditions under which they are to grow as similar to the original ones as possible. Of course you will be able to do this only approximately, in most instances, but come as near it as you can, for much of your success depends on this. You can give your plants a soil similar to that in which they have been growing, and generally, by a little planning, you can arrange for exposure to sunshine, or a shaded location, according to the nature of the plants you make use of. Very often it is possible to so locate moisture-loving plants that they can have the damp soil so many of them need, by planting them in low places or depressions where water stands for some time after a rain, while those which prefer a dry soil can be given places on knolls and stony places from which water runs off readily. In order to do this part of the work well it will be necessary to study your plants carefully before removing them from their home in the wood or field. Aim to make the change as easy as possible for them. This can only be done by imitating natural conditions—in other words, the conditions under which they have been growing up to the time when you undertake their domestication.

Not knowing, at the start, the kind of plants our collection will contain, as it grows, we can have no definite plan to work to. Consequently there will be a certain unavoidable lack of system in the arrangement of the wild garden. But this may possibly be one of the chief charms of it, after a little. A garden formed on this plan—or lack of plan—will seem to have evolved itself, and the utter absence of all formality will make it a more cunning imitation of Nature's methods than it would ever be if we began it with the intention of imitating her.

Among our early-flowering native plants worthy a place in any garden will be found the Dogwoods, the Plums, the Crab-apple, and the wild Rose. Smaller plants, like the Trillium, the Houstonia, the Bloodroot, the Claytonia and the Hepatica, will work in charmingly in the foreground. Between them can be used many varieties of Fern, if the location is shaded somewhat, as it should be to suit the flowering plants I have named.

Among the summer-flowering sorts we have Aquilegia, Daisy, Coreopsis, Cranesbill, Eupatorium, Meadow Sweet, Lily, Helianthus, Enothera, Rudbeckia, Vervain, Veronia, Lobelia and many others that grow here and there, but are not found in all parts of the country, as those I have named are, for the most part.

Among the shrubs are Elder, Spirea, Clethra, Sumach, Dogwood, and others equally as desirable.

Among the late bloomers are the Solidagos (Golden Rod), Asters, Helenium, Ironweed, and others which continue to bloom until cold weather is at hand.

Among the desirable vines are the Ampelopsis, which vies with the Sumach in richness of color in fall, the Bittersweet, with its profusion of fruitage as brilliant as flowers, and the Clematis, beautiful in bloom, and quite as attractive later, when its seeds take on their peculiar feathery appendages that make the plant look as if a gray plume had been torn apart and scattered over the plant, portions of it adhering to every branch in the most airy, graceful manner imaginable.

Though I have named only our most familiar wild plants, it will be observed that the list is quite a long one. No one need be afraid of not being able to obtain plants enough to stock a good-sized garden. The trouble will be, in most instances, to find room for all the plants you would like to have represented in your collection, after you become thoroughly interested in the delightful work of making it. The attraction of it will increase as the collection increases, and as you discover what a wealth of material for garden-making we have at our very doors, without ever having dreamed of its existence, you will be tempted to exceed the limitations of the place because of the embarrassment of riches which makes a decision between desirable plants difficult. You can have but few of them, but you would like all.



THE WINTER GARDEN

Most persons who are the owners of gardens seem to be under the impression that we must close the summer volume of Nature's book at the end of the season, and that it must remain closed until the spring of another year invites us to a re-perusal of its attractive pages. In other words, that we are not expected to derive much pleasure from the garden for six months of the year.

There is no good reason why the home-grounds should not be attractive the year round if we plant for winter as well as summer effect.

True, we cannot have flowers in winter, but we can secure color-effects with but little trouble that will make good, to a considerable extent, the lack of floral color. Without these the winter landscape is cold, though beautiful, and to most persons it will seem dreary and monotonous in its chill whiteness. But to those who have "the seeing eye," there are always elements of wonderful beauty in it, and there is ample material at hand with which to give it the touches of brightness that can make it almost as attractive as it is in June.

If the reader will carefully study the two illustrations accompanying this chapter, he will have to admit that the winter garden has many attractive features that the summer garden cannot boast of. These illustrations are summer and winter views of the same spot, taken from one of our public parks. The summer view shows a wealth of foliage and bloom, and is one of Nature's beauty-spots that we never tire of. But the winter view has in it a suggestion of breadth and distance that adds wonderfully to the charm of the scene, brought out as it is by the naked branches against the sky, and glimpses of delightful vistas farther on, which are entirely hidden by the foliage that interferes with the outlook in the summer picture. Note how the evergreens stand out sharply against the background, and how clearly every shrub—every branch—is outlined by the snow. It is one of Nature's etchings. Whatever color there is in the landscape is heightened and emphasized by strong, vivid contrast. There are little touches of exquisite beauty in this picture that cannot be found in the other.

Most of us plant a few evergreens about our homes. Sometimes we are fortunate enough to locate them where they will prove effective. Oftener we put them where they have no chance to display their charms to good effect. They do not belong near the house—least of all in the "front yard." They must be admired at a distance which will soften their coarseness of habit. You must be far enough away from them to be able to take in their charms of form and color at a glance, to observe the graceful sweep of their branches against the snow, and to fully bring out the strength and richness of color, none of which things can be done at close range. Looked at from a proper and respectful distance, every good specimen of evergreen will afford a great deal of pleasure. But it might be made to afford a great deal more if we were to set about it in the right way. Why not make our evergreens serve as backgrounds against which to bring out colors that rival, to some extent, the flowers of summer?

Have you never taken a tramp along the edge of the woodland in winter, and come suddenly upon a group of Alders? What brightness seemed to radiate from their spikes of scarlet berries! The effect is something like that of a flame, so intense is it. It seems to radiate through the winter air with a thrill of positive warmth. So strong an impression do they make upon the eye that you see them long after you have passed them. They photograph themselves there. Why should we not transplant this bit of woodland glory to the garden, and heighten the effect of it by giving it an evergreen as a background? Its scarlet fire, seen against the dark greenery of Spruce or Arbor Vitae, would make the winter garden fairly glow with color.

I have seen the red-branched Willow planted near an evergreen, and the contrast of color brought out every branch so keenly that it seemed chiselled from coral. The effect was exquisite.

Train Celastrus scandens, better known as Bittersweet, where its pendant clusters of red and orange can show against evergreens, and you produce an effect that can be equalled by few flowers.

The Berberry is an exceedingly useful shrub with which to work up vivid color-effects in winter. It shows attractively among other shrubs, is charming when seen against a drift of snow, but is never quite so effective as when its richness of coloring is emphasized by contrast by the sombre green of a Spruce or Balsam.

Our native Cranberry—Viburnum opulus—is one of our best berry-bearing shrubs. It holds its crimson fruit well in winter. Planted among—not against—evergreens, it is wonderfully effective because of its tall and stately habit.

Bayberry (Myrica cerifera) is another showy-fruited shrub. Its grayish-white berries are thickly studded along its brown branches, and are retained through the winter. If this is planted side by side with the Alder, the effect will be found very pleasing.

The Snowberry (Symphoricarpus racemosus) has been cultivated for nearly a hundred years in our gardens, and probably stands at the head of the list of white-fruited shrubs. If this is planted in front of evergreens the purity of its color is brought out charmingly. Group it with the red-barked Willow, the Alder, or the Berberry, and you secure a contrast that makes the effect strikingly delightful—a symphony in green, scarlet, and white. If to this combination you add the blue of a winter sky or the glow of a winter sunset, who can say there is not plenty of color in a winter landscape?

The value of the Mountain Ash in winter decoration is just beginning to be understood. If it retained its fruit throughout the entire season it would be one of our most valuable plants, but the birds claim its crimson fruit as their especial property, and it is generally without a berry by Christmas in localities where robins and other berry-eating birds linger late in the season. Up to that time it is exceedingly attractive, especially if it is planted where it can have the benefit of strong contrast to bring out the rich color of its great clusters. Because of its tall and stately habit it will be found very effective when planted between evergreens, with other bright-colored shrubs in the foreground.

There are many shrubs whose berries are blue, and purple, and black. While these are not as showy as those of scarlet and white, they are very attractive, and can be made extremely useful in the winter garden. They should not be neglected, because they widen the range of color to such an extent that the charge of monotony of tone in the winter landscape is ineffective.

The Ramanas Rose (R. lucida) has very brilliant clusters of crimson fruit which retains its beauty long after the holidays. This shrub is really more attractive in winter than in summer.

It will be understood, from what I said at the beginning of this chapter, that I put high value on the decorative effect of leafless shrubs. Their branches, whether traced against a background of sky or snow, make an embroidery that has about it a charm that summer cannot equal in delicacy. A Bittersweet, clambering over bush or tree, and displaying its many clusters of red and orange against a background of leafless branches, with the intense blue of winter sky showing through them, makes a picture that is brilliant in the extreme, when you consider the relative values of the colors composing it. Then you will discover that the charm is not confined to the color of the fruit, but to the delicate tracery of branch and twig, as well.



WINDOW AND VERANDA BOXES

Somebody had a bright thought when the window-box came into existence. The only wonder is that persons who were obliged to forego the pleasure of a garden did not think it out long ago. It is one of the "institutions" that have come to stay. We see more of them every year. Those who have gardens—or could have them, if they wanted them—seem to have a decided preference for the window-box substitute.

There is a good reason for this: The window-box brings the garden to one's room, while the garden obliges one to make it a visit in order to enjoy the beauty in it. With the window-box the upstair room can be made as pleasant as those below, and the woman in the kitchen can enjoy the companionship of flowers while she busies herself with her housewifely duties, if she does not care to make herself a back-yard garden such as I have spoken of in a preceding chapter. And the humble home that has no room for flowers outside its walls, the homes in the congested city, away up, up, up above the soil in which a few flowers might possibly be coaxed to grow, if man thought less of gain and more of beauty, can be made more like what home ought to be, with but little trouble and expense, by giving these boxes a chance to do their good work at their windows. Blessed be the window-box!

Many persons, however, fail to attain success in the cultivation of plants in boxes at the window-sill, and their failures have given rise to the impression in the minds of those who have watched their undertaking, that success with them is very problematical. "It looks easy," said a woman to me last season, "when you see somebody else's box just running over with vines, but when you come to make the attempt for yourself you wake up to the fact that there's a knack to it that most of us fail to discover. I've tried my best, for the last three years, to have such boxes as my neighbor has, and I haven't found out what's wrong yet. I invest in the plants that are told me to be best adapted to window-box culture. I plant them, and then I coax them and coddle them. I fertilize them and I shower them, but they stubbornly refuse to do well. They start off all right, but by the time they ought to be doing great things they begin to look rusty, and it isn't long before they look so sickly and forlorn that I feel like putting them out of their misery by dumping them in the ash-heap."

Now this woman's experience is the experience of many other women. She thinks,—and they think,—that they lack the "gift" that enables some persons to grow flowers successfully while others fail utterly with them. They haven't "the knack." Now, as I have said elsewhere in this book, there's no such thing as "a knack" in flower-growing. Instead of "a knack" it's a "know-how." Ninety-nine times out of a hundred failure with window-boxes is due to just one thing: They let their plants die simply because they do not give them water enough.

Liberal watering is the "know-how" that a person must have to make a success of growing; good plants in window and veranda boxes. Simply that, and nothing more.

The average woman isn't given to "studying into things" as much as the average man is, so she often fails to get at the whys and wherefores of many happenings. She sees the plants in her boxes dying slowly, but she fails to take note of the fact that evaporation from these boxes is very rapid. It could not be otherwise because of their exposure to wind and air on all sides. She applies water in quantities only sufficient to wet the surface of the soil, and because that looks moist she concludes there must be sufficient moisture below and lets it go at that. Examination would show her that an inch below the surface the soil in the box is very, very dry,—so dry, in fact, that no roots could find sustenance in it. This explains why plants "start off" well. While young and small their roots are close to the surface, and as long as they remain in that condition they grow well enough, but as soon as they attempt to send their roots down—as all plants do, after the earlier stages of growth—they find no moisture, and in a short time they die.

If, instead of applying a basinful of water, a pailful were used, daily, all the soil in a box of ordinary size would be made moist all through, and so long as a supply of water is kept up there is no reason why just as fine plants cannot be grown in boxes as in pots, or the garden beds. There is no danger of overwatering, for all surplus water will run off through the holes in the box, provided for drainage. Therefore make it a rule to apply to your window-box, every day, throughout the season, enough water to thoroughly saturate all the soil in it. If this is done, you will come to the conclusion that at last you have discovered the "knack" upon which success depends.

I am often asked what kind of boxes I consider best. To which I reply: "The kind that comes handiest." It isn't the box that your plants grow in that counts for much. It's the care you give. Of course the soil ought to be fairly rich, though a soil of ordinary fertility can be made to answer all purposes if a good dose of plant food is given occasionally. Care should be taken, however, not to make too frequent use of it, as it is an easy matter to force a growth that will be weak because of its rapidity, and from which there may be a disastrous reaction after a little. The result to aim at is a healthy growth, and when you secure that, be satisfied with it.

The idea prevails to a considerable extent that one must make use of plants specially adapted to window-box culture. Now the fact is—almost any kind of plant can be grown in these boxes, there being no "special adaption" to this purpose, except as to profusion of bloom and habit of growth. Drooping plants are desirable to trail over the sides of the box, and add that touch of grace which is characteristic of all vines. Plants that bloom freely throughout the season should be chosen in preference to shy and short-season bloomers. Geraniums, Petunias, Verbenas, Fuchsias, Salvias, Heliotropes, Paris Daisies—all these are excellent.



If one cares to depend on foliage for color, most pleasing results can be secured by making use of the plants of which mention has been made in the chapter on Carpet-Bedding.