class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[Pg 16]"/> the "fairy's favorite flower," it is so dainty in its hues.

The rose moss or portulaca is a valuable border plant. It grows luxuriantly in sandy soil, where no moisture is retained, and seems to draw sufficient sustenance from the dews that fall at night, rather than from the unkindly sand which touches its tiny roots. One advantage in its use is that it grows quickly from seed, that is, if it is planted in a dry spot. The needle-shaped foliage is inconspicuous, while the blossoms are as brilliant as poppies and are produced in large numbers. A serious fault, however, is that it closes during the afternoon. If one decides to use portulaca, choose solid colors rather than to mix a mass of varied ones.

For a shady bit of garden, why not try out delphiniums? They are not expensive, the roots costing about a dollar and a quarter a dozen, but they are so graceful that they are effective for use of this sort.

The plants chosen must be in harmonious contrast to those that fill the beds, otherwise one shudders as they view the completed scheme and wonders how it is that the gardener is so color-blind. Hardy borders or annuals are used very often. Each of them having a distinctive charm, some gardens demanding one, and others another, so that one cannot dictate to the owner of a garden which kind is best for his use, it lies with his own whims and fancies, to develop beautiful combinations, and to work out variations of the last year's scheme, so that the gardens of yesterday may differ essentially from those of to-day.

It may be that long borders of bright-eyed verbenas greet our eyes as we gaze upon the vari-colored beds, or perchance gorgeous Sweet Williams, vieing in hue are shown. Tall rosy spikes of lythrum lift their heads, while stately hollyhocks uncurl their silky petals, shaking out the tucks and wrinkles of the bud like newly awakened butterflies stretching their wings. There is a busy hum of bees as we saunter down the garden path, stopping now and again to watch their flight as they light on flowers to sip their nectar, furry with golden pollen dust.

So we stand wondering what our grand-dames would say could they view, with us to-day, the transformation of the old-fashioned garden, into a magnificent show of rare plants in a well-developed design.

THE PERGOLA AND ARCH

THE SUNLIGHT SIFTS THROUGH THE SHELTERING VINES OF THE PERGOLA

CHAPTER II

THE PERGOLA AND ARCH

"I have made me a garden and orchard, and have planted trees and all kinds of fruit." Thus spake the wise Solomon who in all his glory found time to enjoy his flowers. Nowadays, blossoming plants are intermixed with marble fragments, and the garden contains many interesting features that were then unknown. Sir William Temple, on his return from a visit to Holland, where he went for garden study, tells us that he found that four things were absolutely necessary in order to complete a perfect garden. "Flowers, Fruit, Shade, and Water."

Originality is to-day the key-note in every garden design. Gardens have been developed with the passing of time so that instead of one type we find an infinite variety of styles, each one of them so distinctive that one need have little fear of repetition in results. Here we find the formal, the Italian garden while over yonder is the wild, and the rambling one. They are carefully designed to bring out some individual scheme. Unlike the little posy plots of long ago with their unobtrusive green arbors, now we come upon a large space which has been laid out for picture effects. This is the work of the landscape architect, who takes as much pride in his garden structures, as does the architect in the design of his house. He vies with his rivals in producing odd effects with marble fragments and artistic combinations in his color scheme.

Each one of the many types, that are shown at the present day, shows distinctive features. These appear and disappear in endless variety, and among them are the pergola and the arch, the latter a grandchild of the green arbor that was in evidence in our grand-dames' time.

Unlike those seen in the old-fashioned gardens, it is not always built of wood. Sometimes it is so placed as to define the terraces, leading with its shadowy treatment to delightful glimpses of vistas beyond, well laid out for this very purpose. Again we find it shadowing the garden at one side, where it makes a covered walk, under which one can pass, and view the garden pleasantly.

Simple and unostentatious were the early gardens, for not until 1750, was there found any trace of garden architecture in the North. It was about that year that one Theodore Hardingbrook, came to this country bringing with him a fund of information to strengthen and enlarge this line of work. He gathered around him a faithful, interested little band of students, and taught them new ideas, and awakened an ambition for new designs in Colonial flower plots. Then was evolved the little summer house with its cap of green, which stood generally at the foot of the garden path ending the central walk and it was then that the green arbor came into existence, spanning the centre of the little plot. Covered with vines it made a pleasant break in the otherwise straight lines of the old-fashioned garden, and it also gave a touch of old-world gardens to the new-world plan.

This was not the commencement of pergola construction, which had its origin in the vineyards of sunny Italy. They were not like those of to-day, wonderfully beautiful in design but rude and rustic, roughly put together as a support for the vines. Through the intersecting crevices fell glorious clusters of pale green and royal purple grapes, to ripen in the glimmering shade. These rough arbors, shadowed by hardy vines, graced the Italian hillsides, when Columbus as a wool comber's son frolicked the summer days away long years before he discovered the new country that lay across the sea.

The birth of this feature was not romantic but plebeian, for it was built for practical use only. The hardy Italian grape growers had come to a realizing sense that their fruit throve better if held aloft, and so they conceived the idea of a supporting arbor. As the bright sun filtered through the vines, the picturesqueness caught the attention of gardeners on large estates and from this was evolved the long pillared pathways over which cultivated vines were twined, casting their long shadows far over the path beyond in Roman gardens.

When larger and better gardens were demanded to meet the architecture of the large, square, Colonial homes, green arbors were popular. They were crudely put together, often the work of the village carpenter, simple and unconventional in their treatment yet prettily draped with vines. During the summer months they were especially picturesque and inviting, with their little wooden seats placed on either side. To the garden came the gallant, dressed in knee breeches and wearing powdered wig, there to meet his lady love, bending low he plucked from the branches of the trailing vine