XXXIV 



I PROMISED to return to gardens, and here I am 

 What a garden that was ! Not a bit uncomfortable in 

 spite of its company of departed friars. The monk's old 

 Vew Walk was there ,- such a one as has not its match 

 in the kingdom, I believe. There too were fields of 

 " Malmaison " Carnations. Never have I beheld such 

 lavishness before or since. The scent of the things ! It 

 was our hostess's rather extravagant fancy. I don't 

 know that I exactly envy it. It was almost too much, 

 but yet it was a wonder ! 



I think it was a dream of very childish days that started 

 my haunting dread of graveyards / that, and the peculiar 

 desolation of the little burial-place through which we 

 passed every Sunday morning to go to the Chapel near 

 our country home. It was what is called in Ireland a 

 ''station/' that is a Chapel of Ease, which was only 

 attended on Sundays and shut up on week-days. Deprived 

 of the flicker of the Sanctuary lamp, the place seemed, 

 except for that brief Sunday service, as deserted within as 

 it was forlorn without. 



I dreamt that all those poor neglected green gravesthere 

 was hardly one with even a black painted cross to mark 

 it had become endued with ghastly life and started in 

 pursuit of me down the familiar country road. In a fright- 

 ful, stealthy silence they wallowed and leaped, gaining 

 on me as I ran, in my dream, in a panic that I can hardly 

 even now bear to think back on. 

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