II 



THE WIZARDRY OF THE SOIL 



For fairy tales of magic pall 

 Beside the arts the dear Earth knows 

 The Earth that hears the grass-blade call 

 And works enchantment for the rose. 



T T AVE we not all noticed that, whenever 

 ** a tramping party sits down to rest, 

 the gentlemen of the company instinctively 

 bore holes in the earth with their walking- 

 sticks and the women with the tips of their 

 parasols, or with bits of sticks if they hap- 

 pen to belong to the Pan-emancipated band 

 which scorns parasols? 



The evolutionist might tell us that this 

 boring, punching habit is a vestigial trace 

 of what was once a much stronger instinct 

 in our very remote ancestors, who dug larger 

 holes in the hills and lived in them. Or, a 

 theologian might explain it as a modern 

 adaptation of the same prying instinct which 



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