First of all, come the beautiful early summer sorts such as the delicate Bride, Leonora, Mathilde, and Colvilli, and then in autumn the brilliant Brenchleyensis, Gandavensis, and exquisite soft tinted Lemoinei. Burbidge has a pocket-book in which the date of all plantings as well as sowings are registered. "Them gladiolouses," as he calls them, "war put in the 4th of March last year, so they this year must be put in their places without delay in the red-walled garden to enliven the borders, and there must be a large patch in the kitchen garden for pulling" (picking), for Burbidge, in common with most gardeners, cannot bear picking his blossoms in the real flower garden. Blows for the garden is the old man's constant adage, and he will sometimes say sourly, "What for do ladies want their places littered about with jars and tubs and what not, same as if their chambers was fresh-blown meads? Let 'em be, say I, where the hand of the Lord hath put 'em." And he will add, "growing blows is right, 'cause it is in the way of nature, but I don't hold to parlour bowers. They be unwholesome, not to say a bit retchy." I am inclined to agree with my old friend in some of his strictures about the modern drawing-room, for a room laden with scents, and that has closed windows, is certainly a productive source of headaches. As I stood by the garden watching Burbidge and his men plant the gladioli, a little figure dashed up to me. "Mama," cried Bess, in a state of wild excitement, "they've come, two real princes, I really do believe." I was puzzled for a moment, but at last I stammered out, "Where? Where?" "At the pond, at the pond," exclaimed Bess, trembling with delight. I could not get anything more out of Bess, but Burbidge, hearing her mention the pond, hobbled up. "Bless her little heart!" he said, "the little lady means the swans." And in answer to my inquiry, "What swans?" he answered-- "Didn't yer hear, mam, about the great birds? No?" Then he went on to tell me how, in the early morning, when he and the under-gardeners "war fettling up on the east side between six and seven, us suddenly heard a kind of unearthly crying, like some one moaning and sobbing, and whispering right up aloft. And then," continued my old friend, "I seed such a sight as I've never seen afore. Fowls as big as chest o' drawers flyin' round and round. They came on flying in great circles, as if they couldn't stop, till down they flumped like a couple of cannon balls, and struck slap into the great Abbey pool. "I did," pursued Burbidge, "tell Miss Célestine later to let yer know, seeing as you be interested in all fur and fluff, birds and insects, and most varmint, but her have no sense, save for frills and furbelows." On hearing of the arrival of the swans, I seized hold of Bess's hand, and off we went together to welcome our new visitors.