MAY 99 



hours of the apple-blooming days, no duty 

 that might not better be left undone that this 

 little hour may be garnered and treasured up 

 to a life beyond life by the refreshed and 

 restored soul. Under the trees are the green 

 pastures of recreation ; beside them flow the 

 still waters of purification. Theirs are the 

 embroidered veils of the temple wherein count- 

 less urns of incense are swinging. Only good 

 thoughts can dwell in an orchard, and only 

 with a pure heart and clean hands might man 

 venture into its sacred precincts. 



There are birds in the orchard. In every 

 tree they have found a home, coming back, 

 year after year, to the pleasant haunts of their 

 ancestors, saying to their nestlings, no doubt : 

 " From time out of mind this orchard has be- 

 longed to our family, and this apple-tree has 

 been our habitation from all generations. It 

 is a great thing to be a bird of assured posi- 

 tion, and to have a landed estate." They are 

 not unmindful of the laws of reciprocity, and 

 for their shelter pay such a toll of song that 

 from grey dawn until grey dusk the air is 

 thrilling with music. Richard Jeffries has 

 boasted that every loaf of English bread had 



