INTRODUCTION 



tremblingly, peaceful autumnal evening, when his 

 notes strike the stilled air at intervals as if they 

 were the call of some far-distant Angelus. 



" Come unto me all ye that labor and are 

 heavy-laden," says the Garden, " and I will give 

 you rest." Not the rest of apathy, nor yet the 

 listlessness of ennui, but the recuperative rest, 

 the rest that we so need after the tiring turmoil 

 of the day's labor in the city's forges. And the 

 Garden will keep its word. Its silence and its 

 perfumes are as a healing balm. And yet it is 

 a busy silence, for it is the silence of creation, in 

 which life is growing into blossoming, and in 

 which spirit is transforming itself into splendid 

 matter. This wonderful operation, as it im- 

 presses itself on you, will touch you to responsive 

 impulses, and your rest will be energizing. This 

 is the true delight we experience from gardens, 

 that it makes us aware of our own creative pow- 

 ers and through this of our kinship with God. 



We say that a garden is delightful, but are 

 rarely conscious of what we mean by the word. 

 If we analyze the sensation we shall find that 

 it is born of seeing the sheer beauty of life which 

 a garden is forever revealing. For here we be- 

 come somehow aware of the joy of mere living. 



