ted, like the lemon balms, and kept in the dry, light cellar in
tubs.

But oh! Mrs. Evan, you must go and see Mrs. Marchant's lilies! They are
growing as freely as weeds among the uncut grass, and blooming as
profusely as the bell-lilies in Opal Farm meadows! And all the spring
bulbs are also grown in this grass that lies between the shorn grass
paths, and in autumn when the tops are dead and gone it is carefully
burned over and the turf is all the winter covering they have.

Does the grass look ragged and unsightly? No, because I think that it is
cut lightly with a scythe after the spring bulbs are gone and that the
patient woman, whose life the garden is, keeps the tallest seeded
grasses hand trimmed from between the lily stalks!

Ah, but how that garden lingers with me, and the single glimpse I caught
of the deep dark eyes of its mistress as they looked out of a vine-clad
window toward the sky!

I have made a list of the plants that are possible for my own permanent
bed of fragrant flowers and leaves, that I may enjoy them, and that the
Infant may have fragrant memories to surround all her youth and bind her
still more closely to the things of outdoor life.

I chanced upon a verse of Bourdillon's the other day. Do you know it?

"Ah! full of purest influence
On human mind and mood,
Of holiest joy to human sense
Are river, field, and wood;
And better must all childhood be
That knows a garden and a tree!"

XV

THE PINK FAMILY OUTDOORS

(Barbara Campbell to Mary Penrose)

_Oaklands, September 1._ So you have been away and in going discovered
the possibilities of growing certain pinks and carnations out-of-doors
that, in America at least, are usually considered the winter specialties
of a cool greenhouse!

We too have been afield somewhat, having but now returned from a driving
trip of ten days, nicely timed as to gardens and resting-places until
the last night, when, making a false turn, ten o'clock found us we did
not know where and with no prospect of getting our bearings.

We had ample provisions for supper with us, including two bottles of
ginger ale; no one knew that we were lost but ourselves and no one was
expecting us anywhere, as we travel quite _con amore_ on these little
near-by journeys of ours. The August moon was big and hot and late in
rising; there was a rick of old hay in a clean-looking field by the
roadside that had evidently been used as winter fodder for