prevents their blooming, so that they form but few fresh plants from
seed. Imperceptibly the dying of the older plants is going on, and the
hungry root-fibres of their younger neighbours are feeding on the
decaying particles washed into the earth.
But whether lawns could exist at all without the beneficent work of the
earthworms is very doubtful. Every one has seen the little heaps of
worm-castings upon grass, but it remained for Darwin, after his own long
experiment and exhaustive observation, partly based upon and
comprehending the conclusions of other naturalists, to tell us how
largely the fertility of our surface soil is due to the unceasing work
of these small creatures. Worms swallow large quantities of earth and
decaying leaves, and Darwin’s observations led him “to conclude that all
the vegetable mould over the whole country has passed many times
through, and will again pass many times through the intestinal canals of
worms.” This, indeed, is the only way in which it is possible for a
person with any knowledge of the needs of plant-life, to conceive the
possibility of any one closely-packed crop occupying the same space of
ground for hundreds of years. The soil, as it passes, little by little,
through the bodies of the worms, undergoes certain chemical changes
which fit it afresh for its ever-renewed work of plant-sustenance.
There are some who, viewing the castings as an eyesore on their lawns,
cast about for means of destroying the worms. This is unwise policy, and
would soon lead to the impoverishment of the grass. The castings, when
dry, are easily broken down by the roller or the birch-broom, and the
grass receives the beneficent top-dressing that assures its well-being
and healthy continuance.
The only part of the garden at Auchincruive that is obedient to
rectangular form, is the kitchen garden and the ground about it. The
kitchen garden lies some way back from the house and river, and, with
its greenhouses, is for the most part hidden by two long old yew hedges
which run in the direction of the river. One of these appears in the
picture, with its outer ornament of bright border of autumn flowers.
Here are Tritomas, Gypsophila in mist-like clouds, tall Evening Primrose
and Campanula pyramidalis, both purple and white, with many other good
hardy flowers.
The red-leaved tree illustrates a question which often arises in the
writer’s mind as to whether trees and shrubs of this coloured foliage,
such as Prunus Pissardi and Copper Beech and Copper Hazel are not of
doubtful value in the general garden landscape. Trees of the darkest
green, as this very picture shows by its dark upright yews, are always
of value, but the red-leaved tree, though in the present case it has
been tenderly treated by the artist, is apt to catch the eye as a
violent and discordant patch among green foliage. Especially is this the
case with the darker form of copper beech, which, in autumn, takes a
dull, solid, heavy kind of colour, especially when seen from a little
distance, that is often a disfiguring blot in an otherwise beautiful
landscape.
The same criticism may occasionally apply to trees of conspicuous golden
foliage, but errors in planting these, though often made, may easily be
avoided by suitable grouping and association with white and yellow
flowers. Indeed it would be delightful to work out a whole golden
garden.
[Illustration: THE YEW ARBOUR, LYDE