A GARDEN DIARY 225 



disturbing sea in which its daily lot is cast. As 

 that downward course continues, all that apper- 

 tains to the surface becomes more and more 

 dreamlike, as it might to a diver, and the mind 

 widens and strengthens insensibly with each 

 descending fathom. "Life" is indeed a marvel- 

 lous shibboleth ; a spell that unlocks innumerable 

 doors ; a word of varied and manifold meanings. 

 Merely to write it down, merely to utter it, seems 

 to clear the atmosphere. Mental fogs of all 

 kinds at that touch roll up their dingy tents, 

 and depart. An impression of morning fresh, 

 imperishable morning hovers around it ; youth, 

 health, fecundity, vigour belong to it. All the 

 winds of Spring "driving sweet buds, like flocks 

 to feed in air " rush after it, and fan it on its 

 course. The sense of the good green earth, and 

 of all those good green things that belong to 

 it, pours in a stream of joy through even the 

 dreariest veins. " And if one little planet is able 

 to show it in this inexhaustible profusion, what 

 of all the other planets ? " one thinks. " What 

 of those countless other worlds, all belonging to 

 the same great plan ; all built and upheld by the 

 same architectonic hand ; all strung, as it were, 

 upon one great string, and vibrating eternally to 

 a single immortal touch ? " 



