ANOTHER HARDY GARDEN BOOK 



Was there ever a man whose life has 

 been told in prose or song, whose days, for 

 a time at least, were so gentle an idyl as 

 those of Elijah by the brook Cherith, when, 

 worn with the stress of life and with jour- 

 neying to and fro in the earth, he came to 

 dwell in the shade by a murmuring brook 

 and was fed by the birds? With no care 

 and no anxiety, he had time to rest and to 

 commune with Nature. And when the water 

 of the brook ran low and quietude began 

 to pall and the ravens' diet grew tiresome, 

 he was sent to the house of a widow, prob- 

 ably young, for her son whom he was able 

 to restore to her from death was a child, 

 and certainly comely. For are not all 

 widows comely, and do not all men and 

 most women admit, that for charm and 

 magnetism and knowledge of the ways of 

 mankind, other women compared to a widow 

 are as "moonlight unto sunlight, and as 

 water unto wine"? Moreover, Elijah's widow 

 had a taste for culinary matters, for her 

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