A GARDEN DIARY 



SEPTEMBER 4, 1899 



T T has been wet, and is now fine again, con- 

 -* sequently our view of the downs exhibits 

 those tones of vinous purple, shading into indigo, 

 that in moments of patriotic expansion I am apt 

 to call Irish. I do not think it is quite friendly 

 of our neighbours, especially those who live upon 

 the ridge above our heads, to smile so significantly 

 whenever that word "view" happens to slip out, as 

 it did just now, in alluding to our new possession, 

 and its prospects. For what, after all, is a view ? 

 The question seems to suggest a reference to 

 the dictionary, and here is Webster, ponderous 

 in brown calf. "View. ist. Act of seeing, or be- 

 holding ; sight ; survey ; examination by the eye. 

 2nd. That which is looked towards, or kept in 

 sight ; an appearance ; a show." Well, have we 

 not something to look towards, to keep in sight, 

 some appearance, some show ? For that matter, 

 so, it may be urged, has the habitant of the "two 

 pair back," or the rustic whose prospect is limited 

 to a survey of his or her neighbours' under 



