A BOOK ABOUT THE GARDEN. 



" A daughter of the gods, 

 Divinely fair, and most divinely tall," 



reasserting her ancient sway, with such a resistless 

 majesty as took your breath away ? If so, you will 

 remember, mingled with that strange surprise and 

 happiness, a feeling of regret and shame that you 

 should have so long forsaken and almost forgotten 

 your first, and, as you now confess, your last and only 

 love. It was thus with this Rose and me. " Young 

 man," that Rose seemed to say, " behold one whom 

 you have despised, deserted ! Behold one to whom, in 

 days when it was your chief, unwearying gladness to 

 wander among the flowers and love them, you plighted 

 your early troth. You forsook me, and for what '? 

 At first, for sparrow-nets and baiting-needles, for 

 skates and pony-whips, for bats and footballs. 

 Latterly, for your hunters, your flirtations, your 

 London tailors, Ah ! you blush, you repent, you 

 return. Well, then, I will be generous ; I will forget 

 all, save our old affection. Henceforth be faithful, 

 and in your fidelity you shall find a purer, surer 

 happiness than any you have known since you left 

 me to blush, unseen by any but the gardener, and 

 to waste my sweetness on the bees and butter- 

 flies." 



I went down on my knees (metaphorically I mean, 

 not upon the gravel, for I was arrayed in my " extra- 

 fine, double-milled, evening pants" at 2 6s. the 

 pair, and could not afford the genuflection), I went 

 down, and acknowledged my transgressions. I re- 

 newed my broken vows to Flora ; I swore a lasting 



