NEWS OF SPRING 

 informed, remains incredulous. There 

 they stand, black and gaunt, like sick 

 people on an Easter Sunday in the 

 church-porch made transparent by the 

 splendour of the sun. They have been 

 there for years, and some of them, per- 

 haps, for two or three centuries ; but 

 they have the terror of winter in their 

 marrow. They will never lose the habit 

 of death. They have too much expe- 

 rience, they are too old to forget and 

 too old to learn. Their hardened reason 

 refuses to admit the light when it does 

 not come at the accustomed time. They 

 are rugged old men, too wise to enjoy 

 unforeseen pleasures. They are wrong. 

 For here, around the old, around the 

 grudging ancestors, is a whole world 

 C 54 I] 



