the incessant crowding out of the times in which we
live, give little encouragement to the sentiment of planting for
posterity, yet some such planting is continually being done. This much
must be said, that the last fifty years have seen the introduction of
numberless fine trees and shrubs, the fitness of which for our climate
time alone could test. During that period in England, the Mammoth tree
of the Yosemite Valley (_Sequoia gigantea_) has been planted in its
thousands, and by irony of fate, the giant not seldom finds itself
cramped within the limits of a half-acre plot. But leaving out the
question of space, it is a tree utterly unsuited to our northern
climate, unless under exceptional circumstances, as its scorched and
fretted branches on the windward side sufficiently prove; while in
itself it is not nearly so grand or suggestive as its near-of-kin, the
beautiful Californian Redwood (_S. sempervirens_).

Ah! that burning question of space, how it comes between us and our
highest garden aspirations! Have we not all seen the Deodar or the
Araucaria trying to exist in a narrow, twelve-foot forecourt, and
smiled, if we have not rather been ready to weep, over the crass
absurdity of its position? But such mistakes are made every day. Let us
think, then, before we plant, of the things that are going to be, and
take prudent counsel with ourselves.

Our garden resources, nowadays, are beyond all calculation greater than
those of our forefathers, and we rejoice and are glad because of it; but
we should let nothing oust from our affections the hardy trees and
shrubs, native and naturalised, that are at home in our climate,
beautiful in themselves and invaluable in their fitness to give shelter
to the more fastidious immigrants from other latitudes.

Shelter, in fact, is as the keynote to the winter garden. Beauty is
killed when leaves that should be green and smiling are bruised and
brown, when boughs that should be perfect in grace and curve are twisted
and tortured. We may be very sure, too, that such symptoms of discomfort
in our gardens will re-act in disquiet on ourselves, whereas the mere
sight of tree or bush standing firm in its green bravery through storm
and stress tends, it may be unawares, to brace and uplift. Even the
familiar Laurel, good as it is when suitably placed, and used not too
freely, is constantly scathed and disfigured in damp or low-lying
localities. For the same reason, it is doubtful whether