A well-ordered garden is, in a measure, dependent upon the annuals, coming in bloom (as they do) after most of the perennials have had their short summer hour.

As February days lengthen the seedsman's catalogues come pouring in.

Turning a resolute back on the allurements and temptations of "Prize Collections" I find it safer to pin my hopes to some well-tried seedsman, and selecting in accordance with experience and the length of my purse, send in an early order. Time was when I anticipated the season by starting, in early March, window boxes of asters, petunias, cosmos, and nasturtiums; experience has since taught me to await the slower seed time appointed for me by wise Mother Nature and sow in the open about the first week in May. The nasturtiums and sweet peas may be soaked over night and put in earlier, the latter the moment frost is out of the ground, the former about mid-April.

If one can command a cold frame still earlier sowing of transplantable annuals is desirable. Seedlings thus raised are hardier than window growths and may be set in the open bed before May is over; with the house-sown annual one loses more of vigor than is gained by "forehandedness."

Most annuals may be sown in the seed bed, which is the necessary appendage to the show beds—indeed, all excepting the cosmos and poppy, which cannot well bear removal. The transplanting may be done late in June, and, indeed, if a cloudy day be chosen for the work, on any afternoon throughout the summer. I have found that not only annuals but herbaceous plants, vines, and even shrubs may be moved at one's convenience without regard to the popular idea which restricts one to spring and fall transplanting. My own method is—first, have a coolish cloudy day, then dig holes and put oceans of water in them. Having made the soil of the seedling quite wet one may keep a little ball of it about the plant. Cover quickly with moist loam, then screen from sun with newspaper, a big basket, or a box in which airholes have been made, and keep well-watered until apparently rooted. A few high-growing annuals, as marigolds, coxcombs, zinnias, and four-o'clocks, may be used with effect in the empty spaces in perennial beds, where Oriental poppies and candidums have died down and have had their stalks cut. For this purpose let not the stiff-necked zinnia be despised. Easy of culture, ready to move at any date, and without a moment's notice and (if one save seed) in such cheap abundance that the undesirable colors and shades may be pulled up as soon as the blossom shows its face and cast aside with the weeds. The dreadful magentas are never once permitted a foothold in my garden; the whites, yellows, true pinks, salmon-pinks, and bright scarlets are all effective.

That out-of-date annual, dear to our grandmothers, the Four-O'Clock should find a place in the perennial border. As will be inferred from its name, it is an afternoon bloomer. "Motley is its wear," and its color surprises more than repays one for the pains of raising. It has a faint delicate odor all its own, recalling the enchanted gardens of one's childhood, and that time of day when "school was out," and one went skipping home to pull nosegays. I lack space to give here the long list of desirable annuals.

Most of these are low-growing and look best in their own beds, as Mignonette, Lady Slipper, Escholzia, Poppies, and so on. Centaurea (Bachelor's Button) should especially have an entire bed to itself.

Mrs. Pratt tells us that in Germany it has been brought from the field to the garden bed, and by the gardener's skill has increased the number of its flowerets, and sometimes varied their hue.

"It is the pet of the German ladies, who have given it the pretty name of Bluet. With us it is sometimes known as the 'Corn Flower.'"

The Centaurea, according to Pliny, "is that famous hearbe wherewith Charon, the Centaure, as the report goeth, was cured; at what time having entertained Hercules in his cabin he would needs be handling and tampering with the weapons of his said guest so long, untille one of the arrows light upon his foote and wounded him dangerously."

To this legend the plant may probably refer its name.

Some of the low-growing annuals may effectively border the show beds where late in May the geraniums are set on the removal of spring bulbs, which I find it best to lift and dry off for fall planting.

Clumps of Narcissi and Daffodils may remain permanently in the borders to make their summer growth, and the half-grown bulbs may be put in beds made in some out-of-the-way place for their especial propagation.

In central positions on the lawn build raised circles for show bulbs; border with stone. Avoid turf borders, which imply a continual fight with tough grass roots.

Have good loam, sifted fine, and well enriched with old cow manure. Make holes four inches deep, and put in each a sprinkling of fine sand to prevent the bulb coming in direct contact with manure in the soil. Plant bulbs in October, but do not cover with the final dry leaves and pine boughs until the very last of November, and be sure to uncover in spring as soon as the young sprouts push up for the sun.

In summer, with two or three choice cannas in the center, some bright geraniums, and coleuses next, and a filling out of asters, petunias, and low Drummond Phlox from the seed bed, the circles will make a lovely show of color up to the very last day of summer and all through the month of September, and, on their groundwork of green lawn, be indeed fair to see. In back places of the garden sow seed for flower-cutting; among the best of these is the "White Branching Aster," the single Dahlia, and (if one can bring enough of these beauties into bloom) the white Cosmos.

The yellow Daffodil, although in our climate it does not, as in Shakespeare's England,

is among the earliest of our spring flowers and laughs our raw east winds to scorn.

"Yellow," says Mrs. Jameson, "symbolizes the goodness of God." We cannot be better reminded of this divine attribute than by the Daffodil's smiling face looking up to us from the edge of perennial beds. The single white variety of Narcissi, known as Poet's Narcissus, must, I think, be the identical flower into which the vain beautiful youth of mythological notoriety (enamored of his own image reflected in a fountain) was changed. The gods did well by him. To this day it makes our May-time sweet, and as a cut flower it is perfection itself. Later, as the plants die down, one can remove its dead tops and sow Shirley Poppies above the bulbs, while they increase beneath and get ready for the next "spring opening."

The Asphodel of the Greek poets, by some declared to be the Day Lily, is by others supposed to be the Narcissus Poeticus.

The Tulip, as a bulb, is historically famous. It was brought to Europe from Persia in 1559 and was cultivated at Constantinople. From this city it found its way over Europe under the name of the Turkish Tulip.

About a century after its first introduction it became, as we know, the object of commercial speculation. It is said that enormous prices were paid for a single bulb, and that as much as $3,000 was offered and refused in one instance. Speculators were even more excited and reckless than the growers, and many of the Dutch florists were ruined by their ventures.

This mania happily wore itself out and the industry finally assumed a healthy tone. At the present time, according to the statement of Mr. C. L. Allen, to whom I am indebted for the above facts, more than seven hundred acres of Dutch soil are devoted to Tulip culture.

Tulips have been grown from the seed by the millions. The named varieties are so great that it would be impossible to enumerate. One dealer alone boasts of more than eighteen hundred varieties.

The seed bed's important part it is to furnish fresh plants to take the place of such perennials and biennials as are winter-killed or have outlived their flowering time.

It should have light rich soil and, if possible, should have half the day in shade.