A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE COUNTRY. 253 



faint shadows thrown by the half-veiled sun, the 

 murmur of the village beyond the bounds, all went 

 to produce the feeling of an aspersion of calm. Half 

 hidden by a group of hollyhocks, Alice read, elbow- 

 propped on the garden-seat by the tulip tree ; a little 

 flock of fantail pigeons on the grass before her. 

 Through the open windows came Mrs. Lydia's music, 

 filling all the garden with the gaiety of the Arabeske. 

 The sundial at the cross paths, old and green, with 

 the Rector's motto new cut on its mossy plate 

 Donee aspiret dies et inclinentur umbrcs told eleven 

 o'clock with almost invisible shadow. The hour 

 chimed from the church ; and as I found myself a 

 little before the appointed time, unwilling to break 

 the spell either of the fairy-tale or the Schumann, I 

 turned into the box-bordered labyrinth of the kitchen 

 garden, a herbary which usually suffices to put me 

 in conceit with my own. The impression of pre- 

 vailing restfulness of a slightly autumnal quality 

 was still in my thoughts, and led to a considera- 

 tion of some of the Rector's methods. The Rector 

 has a theory that the Christian qualities are best 

 disseminated in a parish when they noticeably 

 prevail in the parsonage; that the priest's house- 

 hold where unpaid bills, scandal, pride, or strife 



