Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 157, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 July 1913 — FLOWERS ADD TO GLADNESS OF EARTH [ARTICLE]

FLOWERS ADD TO GLADNESS OF EARTH

"Plant hope and joy will grow. Every brown bulb I buiT in the earth in the autumn promises fragrance and beauty. A flower will unfold to add to the gladness of earth and the festival of springtide.” When the speaker had arisen from his knees where he had been setting out tulips, his friend, leaning over the fence watching him remarked: “You have always been called the Primrose Man because you are a magician -at getting primroses In your garden, but If you talk more in that strain I shall call you the Preacher.” The Primrose Man only laughed, and said under his breath so she did not hear him: “Oh, woman, woman! When are you satisfied?” Then he went on out loud as he opened the gate and invited her in:

“You know, though many men and women in this village do not, that it is proper to-plant bulbs as long as the frost has not gripped the ground. Come in and take stock of what I have been doing and tell me what you have done, Dame of the Hollyrocks.” "I always plant according to reasons of my own,” she said, smiling as she read the labels on his neat wooden stakes. "I do not expect to be as successful with bulbs for spring flowering as l am with hollyhocks in July. Hollyhocks grow as lavishly for me as primroses do for you. Perhaps because I love them, or Is It because I take care of them? I never pass them without digging a bit'around the roots. You know, I believe that flowers feel encouraged when we pet them.”

"Therein no doubt about it Some day when some one translates the feeling of flowers, we shall hear a story worth listening to. Let us make the most of November sunshine. When the snow flies, I like to look out of my window and have a day dream of the first snow drops, the scillas, narcissus and hyacinths coming up. Spring has more than earthly beauty.” No doubt his pride was justified as he counted the rows of tulips—the earliest crowns of gold, the. snowy “L’lmmaculee,” the Duc .Van Thole, the Cottage Maid and the Duchess of Parma—all to be out bright and early in the spring. Then came the fanciful parroquets with fringed and corrugated petals, and for later May, a noble line of the Darwin tulips. The Hollyhock Woman agreed that it was a proud showing. Any one who took a bulb catalogue and was willing to buy the lists as they were printed, could have blossoming bulbs in the spring so gay that the whole village would walk that way to look at them. "I have been thinking,” she said, “that mdst of the gardens all through our neighborhood look rather melancholy this autumn. I make a habit of keeping my plot of earth tidy the year around. Of course, you do, too, because you hire a gardener to work at it, Just walk around the block with me, take notes, and then shall come back, and I’ll praise your bulb garden to your heart’s desire. There Is something in the autumn air that makes one long to walk.” “Right willingly,” said her companion, brushing the earth from his hands and covering his basket with dry asparagus so that no passer by would be tempted to help himself. “You must come back, for you have not seen my fritlllaria imperialis.” “I know what you are trying to tell merit is that the reason most crown Imperials—the fritlllarlas—do not succeed is because we do not plant them on their sides, but upright instead. If every one knew the charm of that plant, the hanging bells and their fragrance and the way birds lovethem, crown imperials would be as plenty as crocuses in all the yards.” The Hollyhock Woman led the way.

talking briskly, and the neighbors at home this sunny afternoon peeped through the curtains at them. "I do wish those two flower fanciers would stay at home,” grumbled the Practical Woman to the Yearling Bride and her baby. "I am certain they will walk around by my block, and if I go home, there I shall find them looking over my borders wondering why I have not made a fire of the rubbish littering the yard. Why, every one knows that the asters and the golden rod and the French marigolds have stayed so long this year that we have been t afraid to pull up too many things. The other morning when I was up at six to catch the milkman, I saw the Hollyhock Woman out raking her beds and strewing the dry leaves over them. She said she always did that before she put on a mulch. How aggravating these careful people are! I have no doubt she carries a pair of scissors in her pocket all the time to clip off dead leaves and twigs.” “We ought to be thankful some one sets us an example, don’t you think so, baby?" said the young wife to her crowing son, who was trying to readh the red leaves twined in her hair. "Good day to you,” said the Primrose Man, crossing the street. “Youfr lot looks as if It meant an autumn garden. The bitter-sweet is scarlet, the mountain ash is hung with berries, the dog-wood, hop-tree, bush-cranber-ry and snow-berry are full of fruit.” The little woman smiled happily, and the baby clapped its hands, as she said: "You encourage me by noticing my yard. A little praise goes a long way, so the wiseacres say. Think of the many months we must stay in the house and look out of the windows—and why should our yards look desolate at any time? The fruiting shrubs bring the birds all winter and look so pretty when the snow bangs on them.” "If more people only knew it! It seems Incredible that every one does not grasp every atom of joy and pleasure that comes his way. So much goes to waste, and life is so short Now I must be going; I have something I want to do before sunset” The Hollyhock Woman took her basket on her arm and set off down the street Her friends strolled slowly after her, as the Primrose Man had promised to show the others colchicum, or fall crocus, in blossom on the grassy lawn before the window of a Shut-in Woman who lay on her couch looking out at it "What can she be doing?” whispered the Practical Woman, who did not believe in much flower planting. The Hollyhock Woman certainly acted queerly. She was a block ahead on the hill, across the street and every few minutes she would get down on her knees. "She is sticking crocus and daffodil bulbs in places where she thinks they ought to grow. It’s her way of surprising people,” said the Primrose Man. "Oh, the dear woman,” cried the Young Wife. "Please run after her and make her come home to supper with me. You must come, too, Mr. Primrose Man. and let us talk of flowers together" LENA MAY M'CAULEY. (Copyright, IJI2. by W. G, Chapman.)