probably propaganda, subsidised by the Meteorological Office in order to
persuade us that we still have a summer; it has nothing to do with my
present theme. But with regard to the ripening ruddy-faced fruits I should
like to point out that in my garden there are none of these things, because
the previous tenants took them all away when they left. Not a ruddy-faced
fruit remains. As for the rich and gloriously-coloured flora, I lifted the
edges of all the packing-cases in turn and looked for it, but it was not
there either. It should have consisted, I gather, of "gorgeously-coloured
dahlias, gay sunflowers, Michaelmas daisies, gladioli and other autumn
blossoms, adding brightness and gaiety to our flower-garden."

"Gaiety" seems to be rather a strong point with this author, for a little
further on he says, "The garden should be gay throughout the month with the
following plants," and then follows a list of about a hundred names which
sound like complicated diseases of the internal organs. I cannot mention
them all, but it seems that my garden should be gay throughout with
_Lysimachia clethroides, Kniphofia nobilis_ and _Pyrethrum uliginosum_. It
is not. How anything can be gay with _Pyrethrum uliginosum_ I cannot
imagine. An attitude of reverent sympathy is what I should have expected
the garden to have. But that is what the man says.

Then there is the greenhouse. "From now onwards," he writes, "the
greenhouse will meet with a more welcome appreciation than it has during
the summer months. The chief plants in flower will be _Lantanas_,
_Campanula pyramidalis_, _Zonal Pelargoniums_," and about twenty more. "Oh,
they will, will they?" I thought, and opened the greenhouse door and looked
in. Against the wall there were two or three mouldering peach-trees, and
all over the roof and floor a riot of green tomatoes, a fruit which even
when it becomes ruddy-faced I do not particularly like. In a single large
pot stood a dissipated cactus, resembling a hedgehog suffering from mange.