the second, though the fourth may. And so on to the
twenty-first. Moreover, a garden showing much improvement over the
previous season may take a prize, as against a better garden which shows
no such improvement. Also no garden can take the capital prize twice nor
ever take a prize not higher than it has taken before. The twenty-one
prizes are for those who hire no help in their gardening; two others are
for those who reserve the liberty to employ help, and still another two
are exclusively for previous winners of the capital prize, competing
among themselves. In each of the five districts a committee of ladies
visits the competing gardens, inspecting, advising, encouraging,
sometimes learning more than they teach, and reporting to headquarters,
the People's Institute. At these headquarters, on two acres of ground in
the heart of the city, we have brought gradually into shape, on a plan
furnished by Frederick Law Olmsted's Sons, Landscape Architects, of
Boston (Brookline), a remarkably handsome garden of flowers and
shrubbery designed as a model for the guidance of those in the
competition who seek to combine artistic beauty with inexpensiveness.
From time to time we have given at these headquarters winter courses of
lectures on practical flower-gardening.

As a result we have improved, and are still improving, the aspect of
entire streets and are interesting the whole city.

But to return to our discussion. Here is a short story of two ladies.
They are not in our competition, though among its most ardent
well-wishers. A friend had given one of them a bit of green, woody
growth some two feet high and half an inch thick. She had a wee square
bit of front grass-plot something larger than a table-cloth, but
certainly not large enough for a game of marbles. In the centre of this
bit of grass she planted her friend's gift. Then came our other lady,
making a call, and with her best smile of humorous commendation, saying:

"My dear, you have violated the first rule of gardening. You've planted
your bush where you wanted it."

The delighted gardener went in the strength of that witticism for forty
weeks or at least until some fiend of candor, a brother, like as not,
said:

"Yes, truly you have violated the first rule of gardening, for you have
put your willow-tree--that's what it is--where a minute's real
reflection would have told you you'd wish you hadn't."

Where to Plant What! Plant it where you--and your friends--you