98 A GARDEN DIARY 



There were many days last summer to be accu- 

 rate, I believe, there were forty-three when it 

 was by no means necessary to go to the Sahara 

 in order to ascertain what a condition of almost 

 unendurable drought could be like. For the 

 present I feel that these two samples will suffice 

 me. I cannot, unfortunately, return them, since 

 I do not know their sender's address, but I feel 

 under no obligation to charter either camels or 

 whale - boats, in order to go and make their 

 acquaintance upon a larger scale. 



As for the mere ferocity and killing powers of 

 Nature we are not without a taste of her capacity 

 even in that respect. Apart from the wild 

 creatures, which have to look out for themselves, 

 she exacts in weather like this a pretty stiff list 

 of victims from the old, the weakly, and the very 

 young. My energetic chow Mongo insisted upon 

 my taking him for a late run through the snow 

 this afternoon, and, as we stood for a moment 

 near the stile, there came up a melancholy little 

 chorus of bleatings from some sheepfold in the 

 valley below us. I peered over into the white 

 darkness, but could see nothing ; Mongo licked 

 his lips, and I earnestly trust that he was not 

 thinking of mutton. It may be mere weakness 

 on my part, but I have always felt glad that in 

 my various communings with the good green 

 earth I have stopped short at the garden, the 

 wood, the bog, the hillside, and have never once 



