Class fS 5 ^jf 
 Book > A3 3 P C ^ 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
A flfiiiier fatten 
 
 HURLEY LEE RAGON 
 
 '> LOWELL. INDIANA 
 
 H. H. RAGON'S SONS. PuUH^heT* 
 

 0)CLA622381 
 
 14^ / 
 
Copyright 1921 
 
 ADSLIA H. BAGON 
 
 (Published in United States of Ameiiea) 
 
AUG10'2I 
 
A Flower Garden 
 
Lovingly Dedicated 
 
 to 
 
 The Andromeda 
 
A Flower Garden 
 
 (Each Flower Represents a Person.) 
 
 At first, it was a very, very small garden; 
 just a tiny nook, that contained only two 
 plants, a slender lovely lily, and a handsome 
 glowing jasmine. For a short time, just the 
 space that it takes two or three years to fill, 
 these two grew together, loving and happy. 
 
 The lily in her slender loveliness, would 
 frolic and flirt and become very chummy, if 
 the wind was pleasant and the sun was 
 bright, and the garden was tended by those 
 who loved it. 
 
 And when it was thus,, the jasmine, glow- 
 ing and handsome, would smile and whis- 
 per lovingly to her, so happy was he, just 
 because she was. But if the wind grew cold 
 and the sun hid for days behind a cloud, and 
 no loving hands tended the tiny garden, then 
 
 Pagre Seven 
 
the jasmine, ever true, would lovingly bend 
 his great height to the lily, whispering words 
 of encouragement and cheer. He would be 
 so gentle and tender, that the lily would al- 
 most, forget the cold winds and clouds ; al- 
 most, but not quite. Always at times, the re- 
 memberance of those unkind things would 
 come, and cause her to sadden and shudder a 
 very little. Forever there was a tiny scar, 
 the mark that had been left by this rude 
 treatment. And the jasmine saw and under- 
 stood, and was kinder and more gentle. 
 
 Finally another little flower came into this 
 garden. A tiny seedling it was. Perhaps 
 God put it here, because he knew these two 
 needed it ; or maybe it crept in for protection, 
 when it saw the lily so gracious and sweet, 
 and the jasmkie so strong and helpful. And 
 the lily and the jasmine loved it very dearly, 
 and called it their tiny sunbeam. 
 
 And it grew and thrived, and was pure 
 and lovely, like all things that grow in the 
 garden of Love. But finally u, north wind 
 blew, cold and bitter; the clouds gathered in 
 a black thickness, those that loved this little 
 'garden, most of them found other interests, 
 and the lily paled r.iid fade^^ a little more 
 
 Ptige Sifirbt 
 
each day, as the}^ passed. In vain did the 
 jasmine try to shield the lily from it all. He 
 tried very hard ; he did all that he knew, but 
 it w^as of no avail. The lily drooped and 
 fainted, until it w^as gone, leaving again only 
 two in the tiny garden. 
 
 Then the jasmine, still strong and loving^ 
 and kinder and more gentle yet, because of 
 this great grief, found that the tiny floweret 
 they had called their sunbeam, had to be 
 transplanted, had to be put in another gar- 
 den, else it too would sicken and die, from 
 want of sunshine and love. So the change 
 was made, the transplanting took place, and 
 the little floweret began again to grow and 
 bi-ighten the garden it had been taken to. 
 
 But the transplanting, and the loss of the 
 lovely lily, had left a scar on the jasmine. 
 The process had been to him almost like an 
 ugly worm, eating at his roots, and sending 
 its slow poison into his heart. He never 
 knew, never quite understood that it was a 
 lesson that had been given him, that he 
 might profit by it. x\fter that, he was not 
 always so gentle and so fine. Sometimes, 
 he was very harsh and unkind to those near- 
 est him. Perhaps it was the loneliness in. 
 
 Page Nine 
 
'his heart for the lovely lily, and the tiny sun- 
 beam. It is possible that always there was 
 a constant ache in his heart for their sweet 
 presence. But whatever it was, he did not 
 stay long* in the little garden where they had 
 grown. 
 
 He tried to make another garden, bat he 
 failed, failed miserably, those that were 
 nearest him said, while others talked ever 
 of his great goodness. But whatever it was, 
 ht did not stay long in this second garden. 
 A huge monster crawled up to him and 
 snapped out his life so quickly, that he could 
 not say goodbye to those near him, or CA^en 
 to the little floweret that had been trans- 
 planted from his first garden. 
 
 But though the tiny garden was almost 
 ruined, though the lily and jasmine had been 
 taken away, and the wee veronica had been 
 transplanted, there remained one blossom 
 that was happy and cheerful, w^hether the 
 wind was cold or warm. The Chinese chrys- 
 anthemum grew stronger and more helpful 
 each day, lending cheer and sunshine to the 
 garden. And though it stayed in the tiny 
 garden alone for many years, sometimes 
 lonely and sad, yet it never ceased its watch- 
 
 Pafire Ten 
 
fill love for the veronica, the only flower left 
 on earth, that one tmie had grown in the 
 garden with it. 
 
 In the garden, where the veronica had 
 been transplanted, grew a mountain laurel, 
 a honeysuckle, and a thorn-apple. And they 
 too learned to love the little veronica; 
 learned to cherish it, and attend to its tiny 
 needs. They came to know that it must al- 
 ways be kept warm; that because it had 
 started in a garden of Love, and later trans- 
 planted to them, that it must be very care- 
 fully and tenderly watched and shielded 
 from the rough elements and ugly weeds all 
 about it. 
 
 And the mountain laurel put aside some 
 of its ambitious climbing, some of its reach- 
 ing up for greater height, and stooped and 
 gathered into its embrace the little flowering 
 veronica. Very dutifully and cheerfully it 
 took up this task, that had come to it, and 
 each dav told the honevsuckle and the thorn 
 apple how the veronica was playing and 
 growing in this garden, where it had been 
 transplanted. 
 
 And the honeysuckle and the veronica 
 loved each other very greatly. But after aH, 
 
 Pasre Eleven 
 
that was not so strange, for the honeysuckle 
 loved, with a patient true love, all the flow- 
 ers in the garden, and even the garden itselL 
 Day by day, and each and every hour of the 
 days^ it thouglit only of those that grew in 
 the garden with it, and loved them, with a 
 constant love that was purifying and re- 
 freshing. 
 
 And the thorn apple loved too; loved in a 
 way that was not always kind. Often at 
 night, when it was dark and cold, the ver- 
 onica would seek the thorn apple for protec- 
 tion, and sometimes he would turn it away, 
 with a harshness that left it terrified and 
 trembling. But again, he would be very 
 loving and helpful, sometimes bringing to 
 the veronica, the very thing it had most ear- 
 nestly desired. 
 
 Thus the years went on, and the mountain 
 laurel, the honeysuckle, and the thorn apple 
 saw the veronica growing and playing and 
 leaving behind each day as it passed, a little 
 more of its infancy and coming, with the 
 passing days, to the garden of childhood. 
 
 And the childhood garden was wide and 
 long, and was swept over by fresh whole- 
 some breezes, and there was a host of flow- 
 
 Pfcge T\«clvc 
 
ers and some weeds also, all growing to- 
 gether. And the veronica romped and 
 played the hours of the days away, among 
 the flowers and weeds. Romped and played, 
 sang and cried, in this great wide garden, 
 where it found itself, each day. But always 
 at night, it would come back to the spot 
 where the honeysuckle and the mountain 
 laurel and thorn apple were expectantly 
 waiting for it. 
 
 And though it had been wilful and 
 naughty, during the day, and the mountain 
 laurel and thorn apple would chide and scold 
 and reprove, yet the honeysuckle would al- 
 ways have a loving whisper and pat for this 
 impulsive capricious floweret, which had 
 been transplanted to his garden. 
 
 So the days went by into years, and the 
 garden grew larger and larger, and there 
 were more flowers and more weeds. And 
 to this great wide garden came one day 
 another lily, slender and graceful and lovely, 
 very much like the lily that the jasmine had 
 loved. She came to find the veronica that 
 had been transplanted, and when she found 
 it, she showered a wealth of love on this 
 simple little bloom. So much did she idolize 
 
 F»f e Thirte«a 
 
and worship this childish plant, that it was 
 bewildered and knew not what to do. It 
 could only sit in rapt silence, and wonder 
 why all the flowers in the garden could not 
 be as tender and as kind as the lovely lily. 
 The veronica was puzzled to know why 
 others did not bring the beautiful gifts and 
 love to it, that the lily always brought. 
 
 But the lily was not congenial to some of 
 the flowers in this garcjten, and so she never 
 stayed very long, nevei" grew and flourished 
 in this garden, but would come only for a 
 time to visit and to worship the veronica. 
 And for many years she came and she wais 
 always lovely and charming and kind. But 
 after a time, she too went to find that other 
 lily, and the jasmine, and the veronica saw 
 her no more. But often she longed for her, 
 for her graceful sweetness, and her adoring 
 love. 
 
 And the years were passing, bringing 
 many changes to the garden where the ver- 
 onica grew. New flowers were coming each 
 day, lovely faces were smiling everywhere, 
 and there was pleasure and work, sunshine 
 and clouds, winter ^nd summer. 
 
 And the garden was larger yet, it had be- 
 
 Page Fourteen 
 
come very greedy, and had borrowed flow-- 
 erets from other gardens, that it might be 
 more beautiful and charming. And among 
 these borrowed treasures was a violet, a 
 larkspur, a yellow chrysanthemum, and a 
 campanula. These four the veronica chose 
 for its friends. They were to be with it in 
 these youthful days, a pleasure and a solace. 
 
 By now it had become wise enough to 
 know that they would stay in the garden for 
 many years, and it felt that it wanted their 
 loving- goodness for strength each day as 
 it grew in this everwidening* garden ; to meet 
 the responsibilities and share the joys that 
 this growing garden was bringing. 
 
 Thus it came about that the violet, the 
 larkspur, the yellow chrysanthemum, and 
 the veronica grew very close together. And 
 the violet was beloved by all, so sweet and 
 impartial was she in her love for all thosr^ 
 who grew with her. But the larkspur was 
 ever capricious and haughty and wilful. 
 And the yellow chrysanthemum was diffi- 
 dent and shy, slow to speak, but in its heart 
 was a great wealth of affection, for the 
 violet, the larkspur and the veronica. And 
 over them all watched the campanula. 
 
 PajTc Fifteen * 
 
Day by day he watched these four play 
 and work, in sorrow and joy, helped them in 
 their youthful problems, loaned and gave to 
 them of his own store of experience and 
 wisdom. Day by day he taught them the 
 things they should know, and often when 
 the twilight would be coming over the gar- 
 den, he would tell them of the tasks that lay 
 before them in the future, and of the impor- 
 tance of fitting themselves for that future, 
 and those tasks. 
 
 Then when several years had passed, and 
 a great event was coming into the lives of 
 the four over which the campanula had 
 watched, the thorn apple proved once 
 more to the veronica how lovely and 
 kind it could be, when the blossoming time 
 came. Once more it brought to the veronica, 
 the thing it had labored so hard for, and so 
 earnestly desired. And the veronica was 
 wildly happy, so grateful was it. It said 
 very little, but like the lovely lily, it never 
 forgot. 
 
 After this event, in the lives of these four, 
 they did not see the yellow chrysanthemum 
 so often. It had sought other associates and 
 wider fields, in which to frolic and work. 
 
 F«c» Sixteea 
 
•^ 
 
 And the seasons passed. Spring and sum- 
 mer, autumn and winter slipped away, one 
 after another, but their passing did not af- 
 fect in any way, the larkspur, the violet, or 
 the veronica. They had their times for sleep- 
 ing, for growing, and blooming, for giving 
 to tliose about them of their beauty and fra- 
 grance. 
 
 And very often, when all was hushed and 
 quiet around them, with no ears to listen, 
 save their own, they talked of the yellow 
 chrysanthemum, and wondered in what wide 
 field it might be that day. And though the 
 larkspur was haughty and wilful, and the 
 violet sweet and lovely, and the veronica im- 
 pulsive and capricious, yet they dwelt very 
 happily together, for several years, w^th no 
 change in their affections for each other. 
 
 But there were changes coming to them; 
 the shadow of what was to be was over them 
 and much nearer than any of them dreamed 
 of. As yet they could not see it, so dim and 
 distant was it. But Father Time, who 
 watches over all the gardens in this great 
 wide world, saw it, and knew just what it 
 noeant to each one, so he began to prepare 
 them for the time when the shadow should 
 
come and cast its darkness over these three. 
 
 And into the garden where these three 
 lived, he put a pine tree, because he knew 
 that every garden needs a tree. The flowers 
 . need it for shade and protection, and the 
 garden needs it to give it strength and dig- 
 nity. And the reason he chose a pine tree 
 for this garden was, because he knew the 
 pine tree never changes. Summer and win- 
 ter it is the same, always green, always 
 whispering to those nearest it, words of en- 
 couragement, or of the things that are high 
 up in the world, to where it is ever persist- 
 ently climbing. 
 
 Father Time knew that the pine tree 
 would tell the blossoms and the plants, when 
 the black clouds were gathering, and a 
 drenching* rain was coming, or when the 
 wnnd was to blow cold from the north, and 
 bring the snow and ice. For up there where 
 it was, so high above all the others, it could 
 see and feel these changes coming. Truly, 
 the pine tree was a sentinel, watching over 
 the garden day after day. 
 
 Finally, the veronica learned to love the 
 pine tree, and after several years, they found 
 that it was best for them to make a garden 
 
 Pagre Eiirhte*?n 
 
of their very own. Just such a garden as the 
 lily and jasmine had grown in, and where 
 God had put the veronica. And the violet 
 and larkspur soon made gardens of their 
 own also. But the shadow was coming. 
 Father Time could see it hovering large and 
 black now, and very close to the violet's gar- 
 den. But she did not see it, so happy was 
 she in her garden of love and beauty. But 
 all at once it came; came on the wings of a 
 storm wind, and settled down over the 
 violet's garden, with a crushing, fearful 
 weight. And all the flowers that grew in 
 this garden that the violet had made, tried 
 with all their strength and love to push back 
 and away this awful black shadow. And 
 the larkspur and veronica tried also ; very 
 hard, and long they tried, but it seemed tise- 
 less. The violet went to the garden above, 
 where the jasmine and the two lilies had 
 gone Then the shadow lifted its weight 
 from that garden, but before the sun could 
 drive it entirely away, it caused a cold chilly 
 wind to blow between the gardens where the 
 larkspur and veronica lived, and blackened 
 and finally killed some of the clinging ten- 
 drils of affection that bound these two so 
 
 Pas?e Nineteen 
 
closely together. 
 
 But though the shadow had killed the vi- 
 olet and wounded the larkspur and veronica, 
 a great wonder had come into the garden of 
 the veronica. A tiny, red rosebud, pure and 
 lovely, had crept in, just as the veronica had 
 crept years before, into the garden where 
 the lily and the jasmine grew. 
 
 And though the veronica was not always 
 so sturdy and strong after that, could not do 
 the things it so often wished to do, yet it 
 cherished the lovely little rosebud, with an 
 affection that was to deepen as the years 
 went on, loved with a love that was to know 
 no change, whatever might come to it, or the 
 rosebud. Though there was to be joy and 
 sorrow, sunshine and clouds, health and sick- 
 ness, yet never for one moment ceased or 
 diminished in the tiniest way, the love that 
 the veronica and the pine tree had for the 
 tiny rosebud that had come into their care. 
 
 Now, in the garden where the veronica, 
 the pine tree, and the rosebud lived, lived 
 also a coriander, that flower whose worth is 
 hidden; and an andromeda, the flower who 
 knows nothing only self-sacrifice. The cori- 
 ander was not lovely, neither was she grace- 
 
 P»«c Twenty 
 
ful or dainty and quaint. She shed no fra- 
 grance in this garden. Her worth was truly 
 hidden, hidden deep in her heart, from the 
 sight of all, only those who learned to lovei 
 her. 
 
 And she loved the veronica and pine tree, 
 and they too learned to love the coriander, 
 and to listen often to her advice and odd 
 words of praise and blame. But because 
 she was a foreign flower, had come to this 
 garden from a far off country, methinks that 
 the gardens in this country, not even her 
 very own garden, ever fully reali;jed or ap- 
 preciated her hidden worth. Perhaps it was 
 to be so. It is possible that that great worth 
 was onlv to bud here, and later blossom in a 
 better land. 
 
 But the andromeda was good to look upon, 
 because she was always smiling and happy, 
 helping and blessing all those who came near 
 her. Truly she was the flower of self-sacri- 
 fice, living always for others, and what she 
 could do for them, toiling early and late for 
 those that she loved. And then at the last, 
 she gave her life that a stranger might live. 
 Not every garden is blessed by an androme- 
 
 Pagre Twenty-one 
 
da. Truly they are very rare. But oh, how 
 greatly the world needs them. 
 
 But other flowers grew in the garden with 
 the pine tree and the veronica. There was 
 a cyclamen whose name signifies diffidence. 
 It came to the veronica's garden, because it 
 had no other, and because the veronica and 
 the rosebud needed it so badly. And a sum- 
 mer and winter passed, and spring went on 
 into summer again, before the cyclamen left 
 the veronica's garden. But one day it 
 seemed wise for the cyclamen to go to an- 
 other garden, and so it said goodbye to the 
 rosebud and veronica, and went away. 
 
 But though it had left the garden, the 
 memory of all it had done remained. Its 
 tender loving care of the rosebud, its impet- 
 uous youthful follies, and its shy diffidence, 
 which after all, was the anchor that finally 
 led it safe into its own tiny garden. And 
 very, very often, the veronica sees the cycla- 
 men, and thinks of the days when it lived in 
 its g'arden; thinks of the wilful childish 
 pranks, that was a part of that growing cy- 
 clamen. 
 
 And must I say that every garden needs 
 the bachelor button? Well, perhaps so. 
 
 Page Twenty-two 
 
Who can tell? But the garden that be- 
 longed to the pine tree and the veronica, 
 needed a bachelor button, needed one badly, 
 as the years went on. Just how much these 
 two needed it, no one ever knew, only the 
 pine tree and the veronica. Not even the 
 bachelor button realized. 
 
 Perhaps this was because that at this time 
 the weeds were growing so thrifty and 
 strong all about in the pine tree's garden 
 that the flowers that were there, could not 
 see and understand their need of the bachel- 
 or button. There were poisonous weeds, 
 weeds of hatred and envy and gossip, and 
 they whispered and nodded together, and 
 said such shameful wicked things, that the 
 flowers closed their eyes and ears, and so 
 did not see how greatly the bachelor button 
 was needed in this garden; did not see the 
 great comfort and. cheer it brought to the 
 veronica and pine tree, or how much it loved 
 the rosebud. 
 
 But though the ugly weeds, nodded and 
 whispered, till the bachelor button ceased to 
 grow in the pine tree's garden, ceased to lend 
 its comfort and cheer, only from afar, yet 
 Ihe veronica and pine tree have never for- 
 
 Page Twenty-thr€« 
 
gotten how the bachelor button came to 
 them, and offered help, and gave of its friend- 
 ship and kindness when the weeds of greed 
 and jealousy were growing rampant in their 
 garden. 
 
 Just as all gardens need a tree, so do they 
 need a daisy. And into the garden where 
 the rosebud, the pine tree, and veronica 
 lived, came a wind-blown daisy, timid and 
 tiny. And because it was so timid and tiny, 
 and wind-blown, with its eyes always seek- 
 ing yours, with a question in them, and its 
 petals always blowing about its pleasant 
 face, if there was the least breeze moving, 
 the pine tree, the veronica and the rosebud 
 learned to love it with a wonderful love. 
 
 Many, many changes were to come, some 
 of the flowers were to die, others to seek 
 other gardens. And though the veronica- 
 and the pine tree were to meet trials that 
 were almost unbearable, yet the love for the 
 tiny wind-blowm daisy was to be like that for 
 the rosebud, ever watchful and constant. A 
 love that was to give and take. And though 
 the daisy w^as tiny and timid, yet it, like all 
 other daisies, was a rugged little plant after 
 all. And so, when it had this great love all 
 
 Pagre Twenty-four 
 
about it, it grew and blossomed with a sweet 
 pure loveliness, that only daisies know. 
 
 Sometimes the clouds of childish anger 
 and youthful ignorance swept with tremen- 
 dous force over this growing daisy, and it 
 was ever loath to receive reproof or advice, 
 but quickly it would turn its face again to 
 the sunshine, with which God blesses all gar- 
 dens, thus proving to all who saw it, that it 
 was in all its nature and qualities, a really 
 true daisy. 
 
 And through all the changing years that 
 the garden saw, though others came and 
 went, and slipped off some of their daily ha- 
 bits and took on new ones, yet the daisy 
 retained these three charms, the questioning 
 •eyes, the shy hesitancy, and the queer little 
 way of flirting its petals to the passing 
 breezes. And all those that grow in the gar- 
 den with this wind-blown daisy, hope it will 
 be ever thus. 
 
 Now most people think that the thistle is 
 an ugly weed, and perhaps it is in some re- 
 spects, but even ugly weeds can have lovely 
 blooms. And the thistle has a truly lovely 
 bloom, soft and exquisite in color and tex- 
 ture and fragrance. It is true that the leaves 
 
 Page Twenty -five 
 
are both fuzzy and prickly, but up from the 
 heart of those fuzzy prickly leaves, comes 
 that lovely dainty bloom. 
 
 And it was just like this, that the garden, 
 where the daisy lived, came to know the 
 thistle. At first it seemed to be all thorns, 
 and there seemed to be a thick coating over 
 its leaf and stalk, a rough veneer through 
 which no love could get, and from under 
 which it seemed also impossible for any fra- 
 grance or beauty to come. But gradually 
 the thistle, like all the rest of the flowers 
 that grew in this garden of Love, began 
 slowly and even reluctantly to show some 
 of its soft lovely beauty. It began to cast 
 off some of that ugly coating and those irri- 
 tating prickly ways, and send out faint 
 promises of what it was to be. 
 
 But oh, how much care and patience it 
 took, it needed an abimdance of urging and 
 attention, before it could trust even a little 
 bit the other flowers in the garden. And 
 the other flowers were also shy of the this- 
 tle, they could not see that some day it would 
 blossom with a pinkish purple loveliness, 
 that they would never forget. But it did, af- 
 ter a long tiini:. c.nl ihtn all the fiovvers Vv .:re 
 
 VsLSe 'I'wcnty Sijt 
 
so happy, and they urged the thistle to keep 
 on blooming, to give them some more of its 
 dainty beauty. And because it saw that its 
 efforts and beauty were appreciated, it never 
 ceased trying to be lovely. Many times it 
 failed, failed in a terrible v/ay, but always 
 it rose above its failure, and bloomed again, 
 fresh and lovely, as at first. 
 
 As the thistle is dainty and exquisite in 
 its coloring and texture, so the poppy is rich 
 and glowing in its shading. And it was a 
 lovely red poppy that came to the garden 
 next. So full of color was it, so full of sun- 
 shine and quaint ways, so different from all 
 the other flowers, that often and often they 
 looked on it in wonder, thinking it marvel- 
 ous that so much color could be given to one 
 blossom. And day after day, it stayed in 
 this garden, trying with its rich coloring and 
 quaint ways to offer consolation to those 
 who needed it. And all the flowers came at 
 last to know that the poppy could give for 
 those that it loved, affection and cheer, from 
 the heart, that equalled the rich color in its 
 face. 
 
 Again the shadow, dark and heavy, was 
 hanging over the g'arden. The time had 
 
 Ttkfge Twenty Seven 
 
come when the andromeda must give its life 
 for a stranger. And day and night for 
 weeks it toiled, cheerfully, patiently, and 
 conscientiously; and finally the stranger 
 was once more safe, but the andromeda sick- 
 ened and called for help. And the pine tree 
 and veronica, hearing the call went, and 
 lovingly and carefully, yea, even prayerfully, 
 removed the andromeda from the stranger's 
 garden, and took it to one where they 
 thought it could rest. But it had been a 
 fiery ordeal for the andromeda, so much of 
 sorrow and toil and self sacrifice, had 
 wearied its heart, that one night when only 
 the stars were watching, it slipped its earth- 
 ly garment and went to find the violet, who 
 had gone to the heavenly garden, with the 
 lillies and jasmine. 
 
 Oh, how greatly the flowers missed it 
 All of them felt the loss of its wonderful 
 love, but to the veronica and the mountain 
 laurel it was a severe loss, one from which 
 they never fully recovered, never quite for- 
 got. 
 
 So always when the spring comes, apd 
 the trees are budding, and the sun is warm 
 and bright over all, the veronica and the 
 
 i*a^« Twenry-Sigrht 
 
mountain laurel long to see the cheerful lov- 
 ing face of the andromeda again. Then 
 when the autumn comes, and you gather 
 your loved ones close about you, because the 
 days are short and the nights are cool, it 
 seems to these two who loved the androme- 
 da so much, that it should come to see if 
 they are all well tucked up for the winter. 
 When it was in this earthly garden, it did 
 not forget these two, and now that it is in 
 the heavenly garden those who are left be- 
 hind, do not forget. 
 
 And the weeds? Yes, there were hosts of 
 them now, and they were strong and tall, 
 and rank. And they scattered their pollen 
 far and wide, and some of it took root and 
 more weeds grew. And those were trying 
 times for the veronica and pine tree. Some- 
 times it semed all they had left were the 
 rosebud and the daisy. The thorn apple, the 
 mountain laurel, and the honeysuckle had 
 been driven away by the weeds, the violet 
 and andromeda were forever gone; the 
 shadow had come between the larkspur and 
 them, while the bachelor button too, looked 
 on from afar. But the poppy and the cori- 
 ander, consolation and hidden worth, came 
 
now and then and loaned of their stock of 
 cheer and blessings. 
 
 But that great Gardener, who never fails 
 or falters, gave to the veronica a flower, to 
 fill the place in a tiny measure, where the 
 andromeda had been. The oak-leaf gera- 
 nium, the flower that means true friendship, 
 was sent to this garden. And it came with 
 such a quiet gracious dignity, that it was 
 almost queenly in its ways. Then one night, 
 when all else had failed, the oak-leaf gera- 
 nium, proved its worth, proved its loyal 
 friendship, and in its toil and care, saved to 
 this garden the veronica. 
 
 And the veronica knew it all, realized the 
 depths from which it had been raised, and 
 was grateful. But it did not quite under- 
 stand. Nor did any of those other flowers 
 about it. But years later, when the oak-leaf 
 geranium had gone far away, they were to 
 understand from whence it had gained this 
 great ability to cheer and bless. And then 
 after that one wonderful night, the oak-leaf 
 geranium passed out of the garden, and aH 
 the flowers thought it had forgotten them, 
 even though they never forgot. But later 
 the veronica came to know that it was only 
 
 Pag-e Thirty 
 
the shadow of a weed that came between 
 them. And the g-eranium understands also, 
 and so there is only bright brilliant sunshine 
 now, where the shadow was. 
 
 All gardens to be complete, must have 
 their bit of shamrock, and now this garden 
 where the daisy and veronica, the rosebud 
 and pine tree are growing, has taken to itself 
 a bit of shamrock. And the shamrock 
 and the veronica love each other dearly. 
 The shamrock has its trials, sometimes they 
 are quite heavy, but after a while, it shakes 
 its curly dark head, and with a merry 
 twinkle in its loving brown eyes and a whole- 
 some happy laugh, it shifts its cares, and 
 with the toiling world all around it, goes on 
 its way once more happy and earnest, striv- 
 ing for those who are nearest and dearest. 
 Striving to meet their evergrowing needs 
 and the tasks that this world says a man 
 must have. And though at times the sham- 
 rock seems a bit careless, and sometimes 
 with a sharp cynical word, wounds the other 
 flowers all about it, yet they have come to 
 know that it is only a passing whim, that 
 deep in the heart of the shamrock is a warm 
 tender love, a love for all, who might reach 
 
 Panfe Thirty -one 
 
out to it in distress. It could not be a sham- 
 rock, if it were not thus. 
 
 An old-fashioned garden, like this one, 
 would not be complete, unless it had a huge 
 mound of moss, with its tiny pink, blue and- 
 yellow blossoms, which speak to the world 
 of maternal love. And though this mossy 
 mound has been in this garden for many 
 years, and sometimes growing close to the 
 shamrock, yet it is so reticent, so hard to 
 approach and understand, that none of the 
 flowers, only the shamrock, can tell you 
 much of its nature, other than it has a wond- 
 rous wealth, and abundant supply of mater- 
 nal affection. But . there is one flower in 
 this garden, that daily is hoping that the 
 moss will some day remove its cloak of re- 
 serve and coldness, and learn to love and 
 understand all the flowers that are growing 
 with it. 
 
 But I must tell you about the acacia, the 
 flower whose meaning is friendship. It 
 came to the garden one morning, when the 
 pine tree was in sore need of a friend, and 
 it quickly proved its worth, took up the tasks 
 that were assigned, and performed each one 
 faithfully, and in a cheerful friendly way, 
 
 f'Krc Thirty -two 
 
It had a wealth of wordly knowledge, an 
 abundance of witty tales, and a wonderful 
 propensity to rise above, the troubles that 
 came to it And for six weeks it stayed in 
 this garden, then because it was a transient, 
 a wanderer, it went like the yellow chrysan- 
 themum, to wider fields, to larger gardens. 
 
 But once every year it would come back 
 to the pine tree's garden. And a great af- 
 fection sprang up between the pine tree and 
 the acacia, and also it learned to love the 
 rosebud and the wind-blown daisy. And it 
 was this love for the wind-blown daisy that 
 brought it to the garden one day, when it 
 was foot-sore, woKrld-weary, and heart-sick. 
 And it never left the garden again, till it too 
 went to find the others, who had gone from 
 all earthly gardens. 
 
 True, it had times of wandering, times of 
 deep black distress, times when the strong 
 bitter winds of temptation cast it from this 
 garden, with a force that over-powered and 
 put aside as naught, the great wealth of af- 
 fection that it had for the garden. But al- 
 ways when those black clouds had passed, a 
 kindly message would come, saying that 
 once more it had risen, once more it was 
 
 P.«C« ThirtT-tbre« 
 
striving, after all the wasted, sin-blighted 
 years, to reach the standard that this gar- 
 den held out to it. 
 
 And the veronica and daisy came to know, 
 that though many, many years were lying 
 before them, that never again would they 
 find a friendship so loyal and unselfish. 
 
 Then one dav, when the acacia had been 
 wandering many weary weeks, when that 
 terrible weakness had dragged it down to 
 the depths, a hand, strong and steady, yet 
 firm and white, but with a caressing touch, 
 that only the heart of a woman knows, 
 reached down and took the acacia to a flower 
 that would bring it rest and peace. And so 
 citer many years of hopeless despair, of lost 
 faith, and destroyed hopes, the acacia found 
 peace and a blessing. 
 
 And this blessing, rich and full, and un- 
 failing, the acacia- brought to the veronica. 
 It was to be, it was the atonement for the 
 sin-filled, wasted years. And because this 
 blessing is boundless and eternal, and free to 
 all mankind, today the flowers, all of them 
 that grow in the garden that the acacia 
 loved, are happy and grateful, learning more 
 
 Pafire Thirty-four 
 
and more each day of the priceless treasures 
 that this blessing holds. 
 
 And though the acacia has left this earthly 
 garden, and the weeds once more nodded 
 their heads in a wordly-wise way, and 
 whispered things that were so bad that even 
 the passing breezes could not taint them- 
 selves with them, the garden that the acacia 
 loved, and loved to the very last moment, 
 knows that ^'Greater love hath no man, than 
 this, that he lay down his life for his friends/' 
 
 Still another loss had come to this garden. 
 The shadow had again rested on it, and un- 
 der the wings of this shadow called Death, 
 the coriander went away. Went to sunlit, 
 blossom-iilled fields, that are boundless and 
 beautiful in that great beyond. And all 
 those who knew the coriander said, ''Oh, it 
 was a good flower, so good and kind and 
 true, that it reflected a wealth of the 
 Master's love.'' 
 
 And the pansy, that w^ondrously beautiful 
 flower, came to this garden also. Came 
 with its lovely smiling face, its rich beauty 
 and rare colorings, its great store of grace 
 and unselfishness and patience. And though 
 it loved all the flowers and spoke kind words 
 
 F*ire Thirty-Ate 
 
to all that came near it, yet it was the ver^ 
 onica that it really toiled for, in that loving 
 labor that is given to God's children, here in 
 these earthly gardens. And many days and 
 weeks and months it stayed in this garden, 
 and toiled unceasingly, ever sweet, ever 
 ready, and glad and happy to do its work. 
 
 Even though the pansy had to leave this 
 garden, and go to other gardensv hundreds 
 of them, to give to them that same loving 
 toil, the seeds it left behind, have taken root, 
 and struck deep into the heart of the garden. 
 And though the years may come and go, 
 though other flowers are to shed their beauty 
 and fragrance in this garden, though weeds 
 are to whisper and try to blight with their 
 wicked thoughts, all the flowers, yet the ver- 
 onica will never forget the hours of patient 
 loving toil that the pansy gave for its gar- 
 den. And all the flowers shout in one great 
 voice and say, *'Oh^ that there were more 
 pansies ; that they were growing everywhere. 
 Truly, it would be a much better world.'' 
 
 The elder is the flower that means zeal- 
 ousness, and that was the flower that came 
 next to the garden. And it has, as you know, 
 a lovely creamy-white spray of bloom, fine 
 
in texture and faintly fragrant. And the 
 elder in this garden was true to standard 
 zealous to an extreme, in all that it was in- 
 terested in, painstaking and careful in all 
 that it did. And a mind and heart that was 
 hungry and ever receptive to all the good 
 there was about it, ever seeking for itself^- 
 and its loved ones, the good things that this 
 world offers. There were times when the 
 zeal for some desired point or ambition 
 w^ould over-ride the kindness and beauty 
 that w^as in its nature, and at these times, 
 ^nothing quite pleased the elder, or was it 
 pleasant to have in the garden. But always 
 it wHiuld rise above that fault and again the 
 better qualities would assert themselves, and 
 once more it v/ould be the kindly helpful 
 elder. 
 
 And the days went on into years, and the 
 elder stayed in the garden, and very, very 
 often it reached out and gave a helping hand 
 to the veronica, the pine tree, the dais}^ and" 
 rosebud. And now that more vears have 
 passed, and the elder is gone from this gar- 
 den, the four whom it helped so much, often 
 say, and more often think, ''God bless the 
 elder. The world needs more of them also/" 
 
 Page Thirty-seve* 
 
And it was a laughing gold-hearted daf- 
 fodil that came to the garden next. Surely 
 it was one of the host of **Wordsworth's daf- 
 fodils/' It must have been, for never has 
 the garden forgotten it^ and often and ever 
 the *'inner eye'' of the garden sees the glow- 
 ing sunshine of the dancing, laughing daf- 
 fodil. Ever and always the garden thinks of 
 its beautiful coloring, so soft and natural, of 
 its gray-blue eyes, which held in their depths 
 a wealth of affection for the flowers that 
 were growing all about it, and of its kindly 
 ministrations, when some of them fainted 
 and needed a helpful, cheering word. Lov- 
 ingly and happily, yea, even eagerly it shed 
 the golden sunshine of its hair, the lovely 
 coloring of its face, and the soft beauty of 
 its eyes, to this garden. The growing tend- 
 rils of its rich, young, care-free affection, 
 reached out and took root in the heart of the 
 veronica. And several years have passed, 
 since the daffodil visited this garden. Many 
 summers and winters have gone, with their 
 sunshine and shadows, but the love that the 
 garden has for the daffodil has remained 
 unchanged through the passing years. And 
 ever nn-:! nnon the .2;arden is wishing that the 
 
 Fan;:*, Thirty -eight 
 
daffodil would come again. It very greatly 
 needs its sunshine, its spot of golden yellow, 
 its coloring so rare, and exquisite, and the 
 loving helpful grace of its winsome cheerful 
 ways. 
 
 But other flowers are growing in this gar- 
 den. And one of them which is rare and 
 almost priceless, is the Balm of Gilead, the 
 flower whose meaning is cure, relief. It 
 came to the garden at a time, when hot suns 
 were drying and withering all the other 
 lovely blooms. Came just when it was 
 needed the most. And it quickly set about 
 to prove its worth, to give to this garden 
 some of its wisdom, and kind, ever-patient 
 love. And because it was wise and patient, 
 and loving, it labored long and earnestly in 
 this garden. Never tiring, because it 
 towered far above all the other flowers, so 
 strong and tall and constant was it. Strong, 
 because it had labored long in other gardens; 
 strong, because it had put aside all the 
 wordly pleasures of the unthinking. Strong, 
 because it had, like those it labors for, with 
 the help of the great Father, climbed above 
 and beyond the fetters of a useless existence 
 that the shadows held for it- Strong, be- 
 
 P«g€ Thirty-Bin* 
 
cause it had an abiding' love for God and all 
 mankind in its heart. Constant, because 
 Constancy is always a part of this abiding^ 
 love; Constant because it saw the tremend- 
 ous need of all. Constant, because it saw the 
 shadows that were lurking behind the g'ar- 
 den and constant, for the sake of all those 
 who so dearly loved the g-arden. 
 
 Day after day, till the days went into 
 months, andthe months into years, the balm 
 of Gilead stayed in this garden, and because 
 of its patient, constant loving* labor, the 
 shadows slipped away fom the garden, and 
 sunshine and peace came to stay. 
 
 It was the flower with beautiful eyes, the 
 varieg'ated tulip that came now to the gar- 
 den; came hopping and skipping, care-free 
 and innocent. And with its lovely brown 
 eyes, its wealth of dark brown hair, the ex- 
 quisite coloring of childhood, on lips and 
 cheek, it made a glowing patch of color in 
 the garden. And it loved the garden, and 
 the garden loved the tulip, and they love 
 each other yet. And often w^hen the flowers 
 in the garden needed a reviving shower, the 
 tulip with its childish prattle, its innocent 
 baby ways, would come bounding in with a 
 
 Page Fi3i'ty ■ 
 
tiny gift, a gift of love, to bestow on the 
 flower garden. 
 
 And the garden is hoping, that as the 
 years go by, and the variegated tulip slips 
 off its childish ways, and colorings, that it 
 will retain all the pure, deep affection it now 
 has for the garden, where once it played, 
 a care-free, happy loving child. 
 
 But again the shadow had come, and now 
 it was everyyhere, over all the gardens in 
 all the lands. That horrible black shadow 
 of war and death. And from all the gardens, 
 in all the lands, the rosebuds were going. 
 The strong, sturdy, youthful flower of all 
 the lands was marching away, and this gar- 
 den knew that it could not shirk; that be- 
 cause rich blessings had come to it, the 
 richest blessings, and the greatest trials that 
 gardens can know, it too must give its rose- 
 bud. 
 
 So one day the rosebud went, and the flow- 
 ers in the g'arden were brave and helpful, 
 one to the other, and they prayed and hoped, 
 watched and trusted. Trusted all to the lov- 
 ing Father of all rosebuds. Then that loving 
 Father, in his infinite mercy, lifted the 
 shadow, and the rosebud came home again, 
 
 Pagw Forty -one 
 
safe and unharmed, only for the lines of 
 strain in its face, that the experience had 
 put there. 
 
 But all the flowers in this garden, think 
 often and often of the rosebuds that did not 
 return, of the lonely gardens, where no rose- 
 bud is blooming, and a great prayer of thank- 
 fulness goes up to the throne of grace, that 
 not all the rosebuds were taken. That God 
 who is all good, took away the shadow. 
 
 And it happened in a very natural way, in 
 the same way that it happens to all gardens, 
 that a dahlia came to this garden to stay. 
 Now this dahlia is not lovely and dainty in 
 coloring, but has rich dark colors, like the 
 shamrock. It has that same dark curling 
 hair, the same brown eyes, and the same 
 laughing ways, for those it loves. And like 
 the shamrock, it too has its store of unkind 
 retort and impulsive youthful mistakes. But 
 the garden looks beyond all that, and sees 
 only the iove that lies deep at the heart of 
 the dahlia, like the heart of the shamrock, 
 and knows that as the years go on, the dahlia 
 will lose all that is a part of inexperienced 
 y«^^nth.. and when the sorrows and \ojs have 
 t.p.cIlowed knd tested it, i-t will add an aBimd- 
 
 P»g< Jt'orty-two 
 
ant store of cheer and love and sunshine.. 
 And even now, with its soft curling tresses 
 and its dark rich colors, it makes a large 
 addition to the garden. And so all the flow- 
 ers have come to look for its daily presence 
 among them; have come to know that the 
 dahlia is to be one of them. 
 
 Side by side for many years now, there 
 has been growling in this garden, the hibis- 
 cus, whose meaning is delicate beauty, and 
 the salvia, who speaks to you of energy. 
 And they have grown very contentedly, and 
 have added much beauty and pleasure. A 
 great contrast they are, the hibiscus with its 
 pale sweet face, and the salvia with its 
 wealth of color. y\nd often the other flow- 
 ers in the garden think of these two, side by 
 side and yet so Avidely different in color, na- 
 ture and form. And as they think of them, 
 they know that there have been a few times, 
 a very few perhaps, when they, both of them, 
 have desired to wander to slip this garden's 
 bonds, and grow in another garden. But 
 alwa3^s the restlessness has been overcome. 
 Once more they have thrived contentedly 
 and so the passing years find them still here, 
 giving to the garden from their store of 
 
 I'ajre Forty -three 
 
sweetness, energy, color and love. 
 
 And just as it is now, with all its flowers, 
 with its myriad shadings and forms, with all 
 its fragrance and grace, we will leave the 
 garden. Leave it with the honeysuckle, the 
 mountain laurel, and the thorn apple still 
 watching from their far away habitation, 
 ever loving, ever striving to fill the place 
 given to them in this garden. And because 
 the mountain laurel and the honeysuckle are 
 the oldest flowers in this garden, because for 
 many years, they have seen the winter's 
 snow lay deep, and summer's sun shine 
 scorching hot, because they are rich in ex- 
 perience, rich in the ^yealth of old age, the 
 garden, every flower in it, bows its head and 
 humbly and reverently says: long live the 
 mountain laurel, whose wonderful worth has 
 been proven, times without number, and the 
 honeysuckle, whose love and kindness has 
 known no change with the passing years/' 
 
 Leave the garden also, with the shadow 
 resting between the larkspur and the ver- 
 onica, with the golden sunshine between the 
 oak-leaf geranium and the veronica, with 
 the bachelor button, looking on from afar, 
 and the yellow chrysanthemum in a foreign 
 
 Page Forty-four 
 
land. 
 
 And to them all, wherever they may be^ 
 and to all the world beside, the garden lifts 
 its hands and across the spaces it waves a. 
 message of cheery sunshine, of sweetest fra- 
 grance and a wealth of love, calling loud and 
 clear, as the message floats out and away, 
 ''Adieu, and Adieu." 
 
 Tmg€ Forty -•▼• 
 
(X>MMENTS 
 
 Yours is a most interesting and wOttiderful garden. 
 It breathes forth . fresh ploughed fields, burning wood, 
 many colors of sunshine and best of ail old memories. 
 
 Just as a gardener cultivates his plot, keeping it free 
 from weeds, and growing the flowers and fruits which he 
 requires, so may a man tend the garden of his mind, 
 weeding out all the wrong useless and impure thoughts, 
 cultivating towards perfection the flowers and fruits of 
 right useful and pure thoughts. And so we learn 
 from "A Flower Garden" a tender beautiful lesson, wed 
 worth reading. 
 
 "A Flower Garden" reveals tiie author's g^ift of de- 
 picting the changes and influences of life. 
 
 In "A Flower Garden" you have brought things and 
 facts into literature and that is a great gift. 
 
 I read "A Flower Garden" hurriedly, I wish to read it 
 again. It is worth a second reading. 
 
 At first and even second reading, I wa3 inclined to 
 pick a fuss with the author about repetition of terms and 
 associations, but the more I studied its didactic content, 
 the more convincing became the evidence of her good 
 judgment. 
 
 The book, "A Flower Garden" contains a wealldi of 
 plant biology without being technical, a fine moral philoso- 
 V^S, good flower psychology, and not a little metaphysial 
 both SiCAdemie and spiiitiial. 
 
 Page Forty-six 
 
It has been a great pleasure to me to saunter in yoiur 
 "Garden'*, (one cannot hurry), because of your ability 
 to metamorphose, personify, humanize, and finally spirit- 
 ualize flowers. That is the really big thing to do, t» 
 translate seeming things into seeming thoughts, and d^ 
 velop real things into real thoughts. 
 
 Ptre Fotrtj^Be^em