A GARDEN DIARY 167 



in the heart of one of our stunted oaks. I am 

 ashamed to confess the intense, the childish 

 satisfaction I found this morning in turning our 

 new tap for the first time, and seeing the water 

 gush out in one free bound, as if glad of its 

 escape ; looking as clear too, as if newly come 

 from the heart of a glacier, or upon its way 

 to the edge of some Atlantic cliff, there to be 

 caught by the wind, as I have often seen it 

 caught, and sent back high overhead, in one 

 dancing, rainbow-coloured feather of light. 



" Take you at your commonest, at your ugliest, 

 and what a lovely thing you are ! " I thought, 

 as I let the tap run for a few minutes, and stood 

 to watch the water beginning to create little rills 

 and runnels for itself, and to feed the dry copse, 

 the dead leaves, brambles, withered bracken, 

 everything within reach, with the first full rush 

 of its benevolence. 



I do not know that I am more given than other 

 people to proclaiming aloud that I have too many 

 blessings ; that Nature has been too generous, and 

 too bountiful in her benefits on my behalf. Now 

 and then however it has occurred to me to ask 

 myself what I or, for that matter, other people 

 have done to deserve this free unstinted gift of 

 clear, pure water. In and out of our houses ; 

 through our pipes and conduits ; into all our 

 tubs and washhand basins, it flows and flows 

 continually, and we take it as an absolute matter 



