Never imitate anything that you see on the grounds of wealthy people with cheap and inferior material. The result will be a sham that will deceive no one, and you will soon tire of it, and the sooner the better. Be honest. If you have only cheap material to work with, be satisfied with unambitious undertakings. Let them be in keeping with what you have to work with—simple, unpretentious, and without any attempt in the way of deception. The humblest home can be made attractive by holding fast to the principle of honesty in everything that is done about it. It is not necessary to imitate in order to make it attractive. Think out things for yourself, and endeavor to do the best you can with the material at hand, and under the conditions that prevail, and be content with that. The result will afford you vastly more satisfaction, even if it does not measure up to what you would like, than you can possibly realize by imitating another's work. There is a deal of pleasure in being able to say about one's home or garden, "It may not be as fine as my neighbor's, but, such as it is, it is all mine. I have put myself into it. It may be plain and humble, but—there's honesty in it." And that is a feature you have a right to be proud of.
Never make the mistake of neglecting good old plants for the sake of something new, simply because it is new. Old plants—plants that have held their own against all newcomers—are the ones to depend on. The fact that they have held their own is sufficient proof of their merits. Had they been inferior in any respect they would have dropped from notice long ago, like the "novelties" that aspired to take their places. Old plants are like old friends, old wine—all the better because of their age. There's something substantial about them. We do not tire of them. We know what to expect of them, and they never disappoint us.
Never make the mistake of thinking the shape of a bed deserves more consideration than what you put into the bed. It's the flower that deserves attention,—not the bed it grows in. It isn't treating a flower with proper respect to give it secondary place.
Many an amateur gardener tries to have a little of everything, and the result is that he has nothing worth speaking of, because quality has been sacrificed to quantity. Grow only as many flowers as you can grow well, and be wise in selecting only such kinds as do best under the conditions in which they must be grown. Depend upon kinds that have been tried and not found wanting unless you have a fondness for experimenting.
No really artistic results can be secured by the use of seeds in which all colors are mixed. If you desire harmonious effects, you will have to purchase seed in which each color is by itself. A few varieties in which there is perfect color-harmony will please you far more than a collection in which all the colors of the rainbow are represented. Take the Sweet Pea as an illustration of this idea: From a package of mixed seed you will get a score of different colors or shades, and many of these, though beautiful in themselves, will produce positive discord when grown side by side. The eye of the person who has fine color-sense will be pained by the lack of harmony. But confine your selection to the soft pinks, the delicate lavenders, and the pure whites, and the result will be something to delight the artistic eye—restful, harmonious, and as pleasing as a strain of exquisite poetry—in fact, a poem in color. What is true of the Sweet Pea, in this respect, is equally true of all plants which range through a great variety of colors. Bear this in mind when you select seeds for your garden of annuals.