190 THE ROLL OF THE SEASONS 



cence, horn wort pushes in the depths, and other pond- 

 weeds " occur " here as though they had perfect right. 

 Most of us refrain from peering for details, and get 

 deeper rest by sitting in the Temple of Honour and 

 drinking in the general air. Behind us are emblazoned 

 on tiles the names of some fifty heroes of common 

 life, whose deeds have no other monument. Some- 

 times a familiar name such as that of the Stella, but 

 for the most part just people who have stepped out 

 of the crowd to stop a runaway horse, snatch a sister 

 from drowning, or a tiny brother from the flames. 

 Boys and girls of tender age have their names there, 

 side by side with engine-drivers and a Fellow of the 

 Royal College of Surgeons, in one splendid democracy 

 of all ages and every class. Their good deeds stretch 

 out hands of blessing over those seated beneath 

 them in a half-hour's oblivion of the driving world 

 outside. 



All round this quarter-acre of peace rise the tall 

 buildings of the General Post Office. They are 

 packed with the parcels that some of |the resters must 

 soon go to handle, and men pass without noise up 

 and down the iron staircases that cross the windows. 

 From the tree overhead a few dead leaves come 

 slowly filtering down. One of them bears the tell- 

 tale snippet-mark of a leaf-cutter bee, and we re- 

 member to have seen two of these insects playing 

 here in the hot sunshine of a few months ago. The 

 dahlias are bitten with caterpillars, and here may 

 some entomological postman get specimens of more 

 than one moth. One evening last summer many 

 adventurous May-beetles were flying round the street 

 lamps outside, and snipe and other strange visitors 



