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Ruth Barton [[center]] 2. [[/center]]

and baby's breath that is lacking in the more stately and dignified blossoms of the florist's art. Of course I enjoyed the beautiful hot house flowers my friends brought me, but it was my own simple flowers which the ^[[home]] folks brought in every day that helped me brace up. I wanted to get back to that garden again.

This year I had the best time of all doing my planting. I no longer felt like an ignoramus, and it was with a happy sense of confidence that I laid out my flower plot. I even branched out into cauliflower and a few of the more common vegetables. But what should happen this time? Good cousin Tom comes home and says, "Come along with Cousin Martha and me for a month's trip to the West Indies and South America?" Well, Cousin Tom is a captain and of course I'll a wonderful trip, so I just naturally accept the invitation. Here I am in New York now waiting to sail. But I'll have to admit most of my thoughts are with my garden. My good Burpee sweet peas have been glorious, gladioli are in their prime, and the early asters are coming out. I shall miss them, for I have learned that a little garden can hold more of human happiness and content than can be found