There should be an herb bed in every garden, for their usefulness is manifold. Ye dames of olden times knew and estimated their value, but when housewifery was metamorphosed into domestic science, the traditional law of our grandmothers sank into derision, and many factors of homey comfort might forever have been buried in oblivion had not some wise person started a craze for old furniture. That aroused a general interest in the old-time housewifery, and resulted in a revival of half-forgotten arts, the hardy garden and herb bed being among them.

I spent most of my schoolday holidays at my grandmother’s place in Yorkshire, England, where many of the customs of Queen Anne’s time remain unchanged. So to me lavender and herbs seemed indispensable in a self-respecting household, and as soon as I owned a garden they were installed. Perhaps you never experienced the delight of sleeping between sheets redolent of sweet herbs, so don’t know what you are missing. At grandmother’s, sheer muslin bags were filled with lavender, thyme and rosemary, and kept in every cupboard, bureau drawer and chest. Large jars filled with rose-leaves and mignonette, all the herbs and many spices were stowed in the sitting-rooms and halls, and the lids were removed for about half an hour after sweeping and dusting were completed, so a faint, indescribable perfume permeated the whole house, and was most delightful. Punk sticks and pastils have such a positive odour that after a time one becomes very tired of them, but herbal odours, being delicate and indescribable, merely suggest the freshness of meadow lands in June, and invigorate the senses instead of wearying.

The herb then is invaluable for all sorts of complexion and hair washes. Even Helen of Troy’s beauty was attributed to their use. As disinfectants—well, the plague was supposed to be banished from Athens by the air being purified with aromatic herbs, and during the great plague in England in Elizabeth’s time, little balls of perfume paste encased in silver, gold or ivory, open-worked lockets or pomades were worn suspended round the neck or carried in the pockets, and during an outbreak of smallpox, grandmamma brought forth several such inherited treasures and filled them with a compound made of beeswax, herbs and spices, and we all wore them in the old way. What influence they exercised over the dreaded disease I do not pretend to gauge, but we all escaped. Separate or mingled fate and superstition has made me use such compounds whenever travelling or knowingly exposed to infection. Even medical men don’t deny the benefit of sweet odours, or their value as disinfectants, so why should not we enjoy the undoubted pleasure when it only means a few packages of seeds and a little trouble.

Lavender is hardy when it is once firmly established, but it is not the easiest perennial to start in this country. At first I bought nursery stock, but out of two dozen plants which I got from four different sources during two years, only one lived, and that was always a semi-invalid, so I resorted to the slower method of sowing seed. In March, a shallow box was filled with potting mould thoroughly soaked with water, then covered with about one-fourth of an inch of soil, patted down firmly, the box covered with glass, and placed in a west window. As soon as seedlings appeared the glass was removed, but they were shaded from the direct sun and slightly sprinkled every morning. When two inches high they were transplanted to a deeper box and set two inches apart. About two months later they were transplanted to a partly-shaded seed-bed in the garden, and the last two leaves were nipped off each plant to insure a bushy growth. Cultivation was constant all through the summer until August, when they were again transplanted—this time into a bed which was to be their permanent home—a border partly shaded by shrubs. It happened to be a very dry summer, so they were sprinkled every evening. When cool weather set in, leaves were scattered between the plants, and the quantity increased as the weather became more severe. In the spring the mulch was removed, and a little bone meal raked into the ground around the plants. The ground must be covered every winter, and it is well to have a dressing of well-rotted cow manure dug into the bed during the early fall.

In June or July we always have huge quantities of flowers. We have never marketed any of them, but they have formed the basis of many Christmas and birthday presents. Ten pounds of lavender flowers, and one pound each of musk, thyme, rosemary and mint leaves, all dried, and mixed with one ounce of ground cloves, was grandmamma’s formula for moth-bags which preserved our furs and woollens just as effectually as camphor balls or tar mixtures.

Sage is needed for pork, duck and goose dressings, and is one of the very best tonics for the hair: the broad leaf variety is the best to grow. It will save time to buy the plants; they only cost ten cents each, are very easy to establish, and quite hardy. Three plants will be sufficient for a home supply. Set out three feet apart in a partly shaded situation. There are two varieties of thyme; both should find a place in the garden, the broad leaf English in the herb-bed for flavoring stews and soups; the almond-scented in the flower garden, for it is a pretty variegated plant which remains green all through the year, and is used only for sachets and potpourri. Both varieties are perennials, but if sown early in the spring will mature the first season. The seed should be sown in rows nine inches apart, on rich soil which has been worked into a fine, loose condition, with a fine garden rake, and later smoothed off with a board or the back of a spade. Mark the rows by pressing the edge of a board on to the ground. Don’t make a furrow, as the seed is very small. Next, sprinkle thoroughly, using a fine rose on the water-can. Keep the can moving back and forth until the ground is thoroughly saturated to the depth of an inch. Wait for an hour, then scatter the seed thinly on the marked lines, and cover about the sixteenth of an inch with dry, fine soil. It is a good plan to fill the flour-dredger with soil, and shake it over the rows, for then you are sure of its being evenly distributed. After the seed is covered, put a board over the row, and press gently, to insure the seeds being firmed into the ground.

Thyme, marjoram—in fact, all small seeds—do better if they are partly shaded. I make long, narrow frames of slats, and cover them with unbleached muslin, then drive a few sticks into each side of the row, and lay the frames over them. For safety against wind-storms, it is well to put a few nails through the frames into the sticks. About eleven o’clock it is advisable to sprinkle the muslin over the frames with water, as the evaporation prevents the seedlings becoming too dry. If time won’t permit making the frames, spread two or three thicknesses over the rows, using stones to hold them in place, or mulch with lawn clippings. I like the former the best, because they are easy to remove, and are not so untidy as a grass mulch, which dries and blows about.

When the seedlings are well established—which is when they have got their second pair of leaves and are an inch high—the mulch will have to be removed, but if the frames are used, they can remain for another week.

Rosemary is another perennial, and the plants can easily be got from any nursery, but if you want to raise some seed, proceed exactly as for thyme. After you have one well-grown plant, it is better to propagate by cutting than to raise from seed. They require rich soil, and a sunny position, and need some light protection during the winter. The whole plant is aromatic, but the flowers are the strongest. It is the essential oil which is distilled from them that is the principal ingredient of eau de cologne. A cupful each of lavender, thyme, rosemary and mint, steeped in two quarts of hot water for two hours, strained and added to a warm bath, banishes fatigue in a miraculous way, and in cases of long convalescence, a cupful of the mixture in the sponge bath is most gratifying and refreshing to the invalid.

Summer savory is an annual. It must be sown in shallow drills nine inches apart, in early summer. Sweet marjoram is a perennial, and should receive the same culture as lavender. Both are used for flavouring, stuffings and soups. Bane, saffron and wormwood belong to the poultry department principally. The first are annuals, the last perennial. Borage is an annual which gives just the piquant fillip to salads and summer drinks which epicures delight in, and bees simply adore it. Plant in dry, sandy soil. Dill and tarragon must not be left out of the herb collection, for they improve the pickles, and are necessary for many sauces. They are both annuals of easy culture, and will grow in any garden. Sow in rows ten inches apart, and thin when plants get second leaves. To make tarragon vinegar, gather a pint of the young sprigs, wash, and pour two quarts of malt vinegar over them. Let it stand two or three weeks, strain, and if not quite strong enough, add fresh sprigs. Strain after two weeks, and bottle for use.

Spearmint requires moist soil. We grow it in large quantities, as we have a good market for it at five cents a bunch during the spring and summer. It is positively no trouble after it is introduced into congenial soil, for it spreads rapidly, and needs no cultivation beyond the cutting what is necessary for market.

Don’t make the mistake of transplanting the common wild mint, for usually the flavour is more like peppermint than spearmint, which is the variety demanded for sauces. We bought three plants originally, which cost fifteen cents each, and now it covers about fifty feet of one side of the back garden, where the ground is moist and shaded by some old quince trees.