These are some of the chief gardens of historic interest, but it by no means exhausts the list of the smaller ones rich in associations, green courts attached to schools, almshouses, hospitals, or such-like, which are hidden away in unexpected corners throughout London. CHAPTER XIII PRIVATE GARDENS _Even in the stifling bosom of a town A garden, in which nothing thrives, has charms That soothe the rich possessor_; ... --COWPER. In writing of the private gardens of London it is difficult to know where to begin. There are a few large and beautiful gardens, but for the most part the smaller they are, and the less there is to write about them of interest to the general reader, the more they are of value to the happy possessors. It is the minute back-garden, invaded by all the cats of the neighbourhood, with a few plants on which an infinity of time and trouble, care and thought, have been expended, that is the real typical London garden. What a joy to see the patches of seeds come up in the summer, and with what expectation are the buds on the one lilac bush examined to see if really at last it is going to flower! What pleasure the fern dug up on a summer holiday gives, as it bravely uncurls its fronds year by year! What delight is occasioned if the Virginian creeper, which covers the wall, grows more luxuriantly than those of the houses on either side, and what excitement if it really turns red once in a way in October, instead of shrivelling up to an inglorious end! What grief is felt when the fuchsia, purchased as a fitting centre-piece to the formal geranium bed, loses its buds one by one before they expand! These and many similar joys and sorrows are the portion of those who tend small gardens in London. How fascinating it is to look into back-gardens as the train passes over viaducts out of the heart of the town. Certainly the differences in their appearance show what skill and devotion can accomplish. Nothing but real love of the plants, and a tender solicitude for their welfare, can induce them to exist in the confined areas and stifling atmosphere of the average London garden. But even these inauspicious surroundings may be brightened by flowers. When those absolutely ignorant of the requirements of plant life take to gardening in the country, they have Nature at hand to help them. The sunlight, air, and good soil supplement their deficiencies of knowledge, and, though terribly handicapped by careless planting, unsuitable situations, want of water, and such drawbacks, the plants can struggle with success to maintain their natural beauty. But let the ignorant try in town to grow plants, where all the conditions militate against them, instead of assisting, and the results are very different. For instance, many a small back-garden, or even window box, is planted year after year with no renewal of the soil. The crumbling mould, which is either caked hard