1 62 A GARDEN DIARY 



being converted probably by that time into little 

 electrical monsters, with ingenious arrangements 

 for enabling them to become submarine ones, 

 whenever the wars of that date threaten to inter- 

 fere with the comfort of their owners. 



Poor baby oaks ! They gave me a great 

 deal of trouble to pull up, and now, with that 

 inopportune remorse, sometimes ascribed to 

 murderers, I am disposed to grow quite pitiful 

 over them. They have been so spoilt, moreover, 

 in the process, that they are not even worth 

 putting into a flower- vase. Imagine having been 

 potentially capable of serving as the tutelary 

 deity, the beloved shade, the rendezvous of all 

 the lovers of a parish for possibly half a dozen 

 generations, and being found actually unfit to fill 

 a bow-pot for an hour ! Could poet or pessi- 

 mist hit upon instance of malicious destiny more 

 dramatically or tragically complete ? 



