Such a garden has been made at Easton by the Countess of Warwick. The site of the Friendship Garden has been happily chosen, close to the remains of an ancient house called Stone Hall, which now serves Lady Warwick as a garden-house and library of garden books. The flower-plots are arranged in a series of concentric circles; the plants are the gifts of friends. The name of each plant and that of the giver are recorded on an imperishable majolica plaque. Many well-known givers’ names are here, from that of the very highest in the land downward. The plants themselves comprise many of the best and handsomest. The picture shows the garden as it is about the middle of September; the time of the great White Pyrethrum, the perennial Sunflowers and the earliest of the Michaelmas Daisies. The bush of Lavender is blooming late, its normal flowering time is a month earlier. But Lavender, especially when some of the first bloom is cut, will often go on flowering, as later-formed shoots come to blooming strength. Let us hope that the giver is not shortlived like the gift, for Lavender bushes, after a few years of strong life, soon wear out. Already this one is showing signs of age, and it would be well to set a few cuttings in spring or autumn, or, still better, to layer it by one of the lower branches, in order to renew [Illustration: STONE HALL, EASTON: THE FRIENDSHIP GARDEN FROM THE PICTURE IN THE POSSESSION OF THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK] the life of the plant when the strength of the present bush comes to an end. Such a garden, full of so keen a personal interest, sets one thinking. What will become of it fifty or a hundred years hence? The flowers, with due diligence of division, and replanting and enriching of the soil, will live for ever. The name-plates, with care and protection from breakage, will also live. But what will these names be one or two generations hence? Will the plants all be there? And what of the Friendships? They are something belonging intimately to the lives of those now living. What record of them will endure; or enduring, be of use or comfort to those who come after? Then one thinks and wonders--what hand, perhaps quite a humble one--planted the old apple-tree that has its stem now girdled by a rustic seat. Its days are perhaps already numbered; the top is thin and open, the foliage is spare; it seems to be beyond fruit-bearing age, and as if it had scarcely strength to draw up the circulating sap.