Igi the Garden - From 7 to 12 de g rees 'of
frost in three successive nights have been catastrophic. The garden looks dismantled room with all the best pieces removed and only litter left behind:--
" What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks And formless ruin of oblivion."
Few strays had survived these three Noms of hoary-headed frosts. They had indeed fallen " in the fresh lap of the crimson rose," for every petal had turned into' dirty linen hanging on the line. The ashes dropped leaves, most still green, as well as thaw-drip, and the walnuts were stripped of every one. The 'Michaelmas daisies were a shambles, while th-e flowers of Clematis flammula were scatheless. But the scent was hardly perceptible. Ceanothus a few feet away was as misty-blue as ever, while scabious had bowed its head without surrendering its colours, a morality -tale of the survival value of meekness. Neither phlox nor- Sedum purpureum had succumbed, though there were no tortoiseshells on the flat heads 'of the latter to fan their wings with the gesture of Charmian's ostrich-feather cooling the brow of Cleopatra. One of the oddest escapes was maize, many of whose cobs I had not yet plucked. The less said about the dahlias the better. "Hurrah! blister my kidneys! It's a frost—the dahlias are dead."' said Jot-rocks. I cannot enter Mu) such a mentality, but I was delighted uo see the tomatoes prostrate. They have been as bard as cricket balls all summer and autumn and now
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