In my Garden. An ardent young farmer took me by
the lapel the other day when I called to see him about buying some of his precious farmyard manure. He raved about what he called the tyranny of the green-house and the cloche. He showed me his out-of-door tomatoes, and I was inclined to be convinced by his argument that a nineteenth-century conspiracy, started by Sir Joseph Paxton, had ever since intimidated English gardeners. Cranks are always instructive, and I came home resolved to depend less upon glass and more upon selection of seed. But I know that when the winter lettuce are threatened by the first frosts, I shah be busy washing and re-setting my cloches. Cleanliness is the all- important thing in the green-house, as with cloches, to guard against the insidious fingers of mildew.
This week I have been setting out wallflowers raised in the open, and the layered dianthus put down last July in boxes of sand and peat. Many of the latter have been lost this year because of careless watering. " The little more, and how much it is ; the little- less, and what worlds away." I am afraid it has been the little less, owing to absence from home. Earning one's living is a great nuisance to an, enthusiastir
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