Everyone who lives at all in the neighbourhood of suburban residences must be struck with the extraordinary sameness of the shrubberies which surround these houses and gardens, especially those which are almost invariably planted along the approaches. First of all you generally find the road waving and twisting-to give, I suppose, an impression of greater length-edged by a foot or two of grass, ugly in itself and laborious to keep tidy. The shrubs are roughly clipped back, chiefly at the bottom, while as they grow upwards the top branches out of reach are left to overhang the road. This clipping, without any regard to the good of the shrub, whether evergreen or deciduous, all treated in exactly the same way, makes a hideous hard wall of green, more or less imperfect. A still uglier way, though more modern, is to keep the shrubs apart by cutting them back in round, pudding-shaped nobs. This method has not one redeeming quality, to my mind. When you arrive in front of the house, the road terminates in a most unmanageable and impracticable circle, surrounding a green plot of grass with more or less the same clipped shrubs all round. This plot of grass is sometimes broken up with standard Rose-trees, or small beds with Geraniums, or basket beds, all very inappropriate, adding much to the gardener's labour, but not contributing in any way to any beauty of form or colour. Instead of this drive round a grass plot or the circular bed of shrubs, I think most people would find their approach more simple and dignified if that road were straightened where it is possible, and ended in a large square or oblong of gravel at right angles to the house, sufficiently roomy for carriages to turn with ease. The sides could then be planted with borders or shrubberies, or merely turfed, according to the taste of the owner and the space at his command. Where the soil is light, and the drive up long enough, it is well to plant it with the wild growth of the neighbouring common-Box, Holly, Broom, Ling, Honeysuckle, Blackberries. These will never grow into a wall, and require very little weeding and attention.

Now a word about the original planting. When you take a new house, it generally happens that the first wish is to gain privacy by planting out a neighbour or a road. In light soils the common Rhododendron grows nearly as quickly, if planted in peat, as the Laurel or the Portugal Laurel. It is decidedly prettier, and does not suffer in the same way in severe winters from frost. I believe that some people prefer Laurels to other shrubs; but it must be remembered that Laurels make root-growth like trees, take all moisture out of the soil, and starve other shrubs near them. Rhododendrons, on the other hand, grow very much on the surface, are easily transplanted at any time during the summer, and can be increased by layering. Where screening is necessary, the first object must, of course, be quick-growing shrubs, and these three-the common Rhododendron, the Laurel, and the Portugal Laurel-are, we must admit, the most satisfactory. They must be planted in bold masses, not mixed, and thinned out in a few years by taking out alternate plants. Where this screening is not wanted, choicer shrubs should be planted, with knowledge, according to their growth, their requirements of aspect, their size, their colour, their time of flowering, their hardiness or delicacy, and so on; all to be learnt from the 'English Flower Garden.' A good deal of what I have said on the planting of herbaceous borders applies here-namely, the necessity of grouping colour in masses, and not speckling the kinds about at random. The amateur must not be disappointed at finding that a good shrubbery, however well planted, will not make much effect under five or six years. This kind of planting is very much better understood by the landscape gardeners sent out by nurserymen now than it was some years ago.

If, instead of a new house, we buy a place that has been planted for some twenty or thirty years, the amount that has to be thinned out is incredible. People in England are so afraid of thinning out; if they would only try it with greater boldness, they would soon realise how very quickly the gaps are filled up again by the improved strength of the plants. Short of destroying protection from winds, I should say it is hardly possible to do any harm if, where two plants are crowded together, the Laurel is always sacrificed. But remember that severe clearing of shrubs must be done in the summer, as when delicate shrubs that have always been surrounded by strong growers are exposed late in the year, they are apt to be killed if the winter is severe. Wherever Hollies or Yews have been crowded, they look very ugly, after clearing, for a year or so; but if well cut back, they soon recover, and make better plants than young ones would do in many years. It is quite superfluous for me to give a catalogue of desirable shrubs, for there is an admirable list of all the hardy flowering trees and shrubs in the introductory part of the later editions of the eternally-mentioned 'English Flower Garden' Their cultivation and propagation are all given in the body of the work. Where edging is necessary to keep the soil separate from the gravel road, I should advise, instead of the grass, flat pieces of stone, where it is possible to get them, or bricks put in edgeways, or drain-tiles, tiles, or flints. There are all sorts of low-growing things which may be planted behind this edge, according to situation and aspect, such as Periwinkles, St. John's Wort, London Pride, and other Saxifrages, Heuchera, Tiarella cordifolia, and the hybrid Megaseas (large-leafed Saxifrage) in many varieties. However many or few of these varieties are chosen, each sort must be planted together in groups, never dotted about. Beside the more picturesque effect produced by masses, there is a practical necessity for this: the stronger-growing plants crowd out the weaker. Some want replanting or dividing every year, others thrive best left alone.

What I have said above refers to moderate-sized places, but I think I can especially help people with regard to much smaller gardens, which I have so often seen ruined by coarse-growing shrubs, not one of which should be admitted. I should not allow anything coarser-growing than the green and variegated Box, the golden Privet, Bay-tree (which can be constantly cut back), Daturas, Viburnum plicatum, Irish Yews, Cotoneaster grown as a bush, Choisya ternata, Berberises, Buddlea globosa. If you have room, and can get the special soil, Azaleas and other of the smaller American plants are very desirable. I may mention now that for a very small garden no turf is advisable. Do not try to copy the Manor House garden, but rather take tho cottage garden for a model, improving and beautifying it. Make the background of shrubs take the place of the background of cabbages of the cottager, and have only one paved path down the middle, and a narrow earth one round the outside. If you have a little spare space on one side or at the back, then turf that over and plant it with Apple-trees, spring and autumn bulbs, Columbines for summer, together with Snapdragons and Foxgloves-all of which grow well in grass. The grass must then only be mown once a year, in July.

Many of the houses built round the neighbourhood of London in the early part of the century were built close to the road, and have a ludicrous and pompous approach of a drive passing the front door, with two gates-one for entrance and one for exit. Surely this is a great waste of ground with no proportionate advantage. Most places of this kind would certainly be improved if the two gates were blocked up, the drive done away with, and a straight paved or bricked path made from the door to the road, with a shelter of wood, or even of corrugated iron, painted to match the house, and creepers planted along the posts that support it. The space on either side of this path could be planted with low-growing shrubs, or in some instances laid with turf.

In spite of all the charming things Mr. Robinson says about it, 'wild gardening' is, I am sure, a delusion and a snare. I live near one of the most beautiful so-called wild gardens in England, but it requires endless care, and is always extending in all directions in search of fresh soil. What is possible is to have the appearance of a wild garden in consequence of the most judicious planting, with consummate knowledge and experience of the plants that will do well in the soil if they are just a little assisted at the time of planting. I saw the other day the most lovely Surrey garden I know, though it is without any peculiar natural advantages from the lie of the land-a flat piece of ground on the top of a hill, a copse wood of Spanish Chestnut, Birch, Holly, and Fir, Even in the original thinning of the wood the idea had been formulated that certain plants and trees had better be kept together as they grew, and broad open spaces had been cut, broken up with groups of Holly for protection. The paths were laid with that short turf that grows on Surrey commons, and only wants mowing three or four times a year. The planting had been done with the greatest skill, almost imperceptibly getting more and more cared for and refined as it got nearer the house. Here I saw, among many other things, the finest specimens of the smaller Magnolias, Stellata and Conspicua. This surprised me, as I thought they required heavy soil. The ground had been thoroughly well made, and they were well away from any trees that could rob them; but in the lightest, dryest soil they were far finer plants than the specimen plants in the grass lawns at Kew. This whole garden was such a beautiful contrast from the usual planning and clearing-away of all the natural advantages that generally surround a place which is being built or altered. The land; as a rule, is dug over and made flat, and planted in the usual horrible shrubbery style. I have seen such wonderful natural advantages thrown away, a copse laid low to extend a lawn, a lovely spring, which could have been turned into a miniature river, made into a circular pond, with Laurels, Rhododendrons, and other shrubs dotted about, and twisted gravel paths made round it. Another lovely natural pond I knew, into which the rains drained, though nearly at the top of a hill, where water was precious and scarce. Now it is cemented all round with hard, cold cement, on which nothing can grow, and into which, in the wettest of weather, the water can no longer drain. The pond never fills, and nothing can grow around it. I know few things more depressing than an utter want of feeling for Nature's ways of playing the artist, as she does at every turn. I cannot understand anyone walking down a hilly road after rain without admiring the action of the water on its surface, with the beautiful curves and turns and sand islands that Nature leaves in playful imitation of her grandest efforts-the St. Lawrence, for instance, cutting its way to the sea through its over two thousand miles of flat plains in North America. It has long been said, 'God sends the food, and the Devil sends the cook.' I am sure the same might be said of the owners, the nurserymen, and the landscape gardeners, who most carefully, as a rule, throw away every single natural advantage of the piece of ground they are laying out, and believe they are 'improving'! What would give me the greatest pleasure would be to have the laying-out of a little place on the side of a hill with a fine view to the south and west, and the land sloping away and gently terraced till it reached the plain at the bottom. But for this kind of garden clever terracing and a good supply of water are absolutely necessary.