2 32 A GARDEN DIARY 



SEPTEMBER 4, 1900 



OURELY people live fast in these days, even 

 ^ the very slowest of them ! I find myself 

 turning back of a morning to the thoughts of 

 the Transvaal, and of the struggle still going on 

 there, with the oddest sense of renewal ; as of one 

 trying to rekindle dead fires, or to reawaken some 

 set of well-nigh obliterated emotions. When did 

 it begin, this war, which seems to have been going 

 on throughout the greater part of one's lifetime ? 

 which the newspapers have again and again an- 

 nounced to be just over, but with which they 

 nevertheless manage to fill several columns every 

 morning ? It is perhaps a mere personal impres- 

 sion, due to closer anxieties, but to myself the 

 fears and perturbations of last spring seem often 

 almost incredibly remote. There are moments 

 when they appear to be as out of date for any 

 practical purpose as the alarms that convulsed 

 our grandfathers and grandmothers two genera- 

 tions ago. E pur si muove! It is still going on, 

 this war of ours, and seems likely moreover, to 



