A GARDEN DIARY 65 



never care to walk in, or to look at their gardens 

 again. It may not be an actual garden, but at 

 least it will be a figurative one ; some special plot 

 of happiness ; some quarter-acre of habitual enjoy- 

 ment. I hope, indeed I feel sure, that in the great 

 majority of cases they will sooner or later enjoy 

 it again. Father Time is at bottom a kindly 

 creature, kindlier than when in trouble we are 

 inclined to believe him to be. For the moment 

 however the idea seems unrealisable, and would 

 scarcely be welcome if it were realised. 



For hardly-pressed humanity there is, I believe, 

 only one really satisfactory way of dealing with 

 misfortune, which is to refuse to believe in it ! 

 That is, I find, the method that our excellent 

 Cuttle in the garden has adopted with regard 

 to most of the recent events in South Africa. 

 Anything exceptionally disagreeable, especially 

 anything that has to do with the surrender of 

 Englishmen, no matter under what circumstances, 

 he simply declines to believe in. It is not that 

 he is ignorant. He reads his paper diligently ; 

 he knows everything that is in it, but he refuses 

 to accept more of the contents than he considers 

 proper. When, a few weeks ago, the first of 

 our Natal mishaps occurred, and the number of 

 English prisoners captured was posted up in the 

 village hall, Cuttle informed me the next morning 

 that he had seen it, but that there wasn't a word 

 of truth in it ! I demurred, but he stuck to his 

 F 



