Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 123, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 May 1913 — KEEP THE GARDEN FIT All WINTER [ARTICLE]

KEEP THE GARDEN FIT All WINTER

"Who loves-his garden, keeps his Eden," the Hollyhock Woman heard a voice say as she bent and untied the paper wrappings around her late chrysanthemums. She knew it was the tall clergyman who preached in a little church in the woods at the edge of the village. “Good motning to you,” she said. "If you had not seen my chrysanthemums in bloom, would you have believed that I could keep them alive until after the middle of the month? "It is hope and faith that keep the soul alive,” said the aged preacher. “It is my experience that it is better to find the secret of perennial hoping when one is young than to discover a gold mine. The first wifi remain with you, and you can get pleasure from your garden although winter is lowering; but the second may be stolen and spent and you will have nothing left but vain regrets.” "I like to keep some plants alive in my garden all the year around,” returned the Hollyhock Woman, handing him a bouquet.' “The common pansies, the sweet alyssum, the mints and verbenas will stay late if they have a little shelter. The hardy chrysanthemums, the artemisias, seem to enjoy the cold.” /“They have a fine fragrance, too. But I see you do not leave them unprotected. Those barrel staves shield them splendidly from the wind, the newspapers make a thick blanket at night, and I can believe that your heaps of dried leaves and twigs from the woods have a purpose. Because you care, I have brought you a present" The aged preacher handed it to her over the fence. It was a small plant with evergreen foliage, growing in a clod of earth as large as her head. Glistening white buds were beginning to uncurl. "How lovely; oh, how lovely!” she cried. “What is it?" “The Christmas Rose, Hellebores Niger. If you dig a hole in your sheltered place and plant it as it stands, h. will never know that it was moved from my church yard and will bloom all winter. I call it the flower of good-cheer, because I have found its blossoms on the darkest days of December.” Then the aged preacher put on his broad brimmed hat and passed around the corner before the surprised Hollyhock Woman had time to thank him properly. She heard the village clock strike and she knew it was near the hour for the train to take her to the city. Quickly taking her coat, after she had planted the Christmas Rose in a hole she had dug for crown-im-perials, she followed the path across lots to the station, passing the

church with its little graveyard where .the aged preacher presided. The Hollyhock Woman boarded the train and seated herself across the aisle from a neighbor. "I saw you making hay while the sun shines,” shouted the jovial Doctor of the village, making himself heard above the noise of the starting train. “You busy women act as if your salvation depended upon your keeping gardens fit and fine pll winter. After all, as I think about it, it is your salvation. That is why I can only butter one side of my bread. None of you needs me. You radiate health and happiness, all because of your gardens and communion with the sunshine and out of doors. By the way, I see that Primrose Man, your neighbor, making his way in thia direction. Say that you will come out on the early train, and let me take you herb gathering in the woods, won't you?” "I’ll come,” said the Hollyhock Woman, smiling out of the corner of her eye as the Doctor, with a great air of indifference, took a • catalogue of hardy garden plants from his overcoat pocket and turned his back to her. Just then the train reached the city. The doctor leaned forward and whispered in the ear of the Hollyhock Woman. Herb gathering may go on all summer, but for true zest in scenting out calamus, mints, bergamots, sassafras, hoarhound and plants that belong to the well watered meadows below tho woods, the late autumn is the happy time. The doctor and his flowerloving woman friend pushed their way through the long dry grass and rustling cat-tails, sniffing and enjoying the air they breathed as much as tbo harvest they reaped. "Something tells me it is time for dinner," be groaned, whimsically. "I am afraid you will regret that big touring, car and the tea-basket that went alpng with it But a brisk walk will only sharpen our appetites.” Fate was kinder to them than they thought Leaving the woods for the high road to the electric car, they saw a bright fire in a grove on the hill, and the Primrose Man, heaping on brushwood, recognized the tall, white coated figure of the Hollyhock Woman In the moonlight "Ton do not deserve to be forgiven, runaways,” he called down to them. "We are three and there is room for two more. Come and broil your own chops over the fire." "It is a wonder more of us are not gypsies at heart,” said the Hollyhock Woman as she sat before the blase watching the coffee boil. "Those who stay indoors in the autumn do not know what they miss. What a harvest of shrubs you have, and you will envy us our herbs, Let us give thanks for autumn.” LENA MAY M’CAULCY. (Copyright. M 0( k* W. G. ChapmaSj J *