omes about thus, most mechanical inventions, a
great part of economy and comfort in individual homes. Also, besides
these particular advantages, the incessant coming and going between
the different fields of activity, the circulation of attention which
this use of the imagination involves, tends to vitalise and enrich
not only the individuals who carry it out, but the whole social
organism of which they form part.

Upon the moral side not much need be said. "Put yourself in his place"
is a very old and respectable recipe for growing justice in one's
conduct, consideration in one's speech, sympathy in one's heart. As
employer or magistrate, as teacher or nurse, as customer or shopman,
as parent or husband or child we must all deal somehow with our
fellow-men: honestly and truthfully, we mean, kindly and helpfully, we
hope. But is it not the more or the less of our imagination that makes
such dealings possible? Without it, we are cruel because of something
we do not feel, unjust because there is something we do not know,
unwittingly deceitful because there is something we do not understand.
With it, our justice will support, our kindness uplift, our attempt at
help will not be barren, but will awake response and raise the whole
level of our human intercourse into a region of higher possibilities.

E.M. COBHAM.

FUTURIST GARDENING.

TO-MORROW'S FLOWERS.

These three months of July, August and September are the second
seed-time. I think they must be the most proper sowing-time, for is it
not clear that Nature sows seed, not in spring, but in autumn? At any
rate, now we can do more towards making a perpetually beautiful flower
garden than in any other season. The biennials, those that blossom in
their second year of life and those jolly perennials that come up year
after year and always stronger than before, without any trouble on our
part, are best started in life not too long before the winter.
Spring-sown seed sometimes forgets that it is biennial and blossoms
rather futilely the same summer, and at other times it grows so lush
and large by winter that it cannot stand the frost.

Now we see the flowers in blossom in the vineyards of our friend
Naboth and we know which we should most like in our own garden. There
is an exquisite joy in begging or stealing a few seeds and bringing
them home to blossom for us as they did for Naboth. I carry at this
time a few small envelopes bought for a few pence a hundred at