OCTOBER 



THE TRAVELLER'S MOON 



" " I "HE year's grown old," we cry with 

 Perdita. It is not any the less worth 

 while for that, even in our gardens, perhaps 

 better, if we have acquired the habit of thought 

 that permits a cheerful contemplation of 



" The last of life, for which the first is made," 

 and 



" Hence, in a season of calm weather, 

 Though inland far we be, 

 Our souls have sight of that immortal sea 

 Which brought us hither ! " 



A garden, you know, is traversed by paths 

 suited to the Seven Ages of Man impartially, 

 and from the high, sunny alley of roses of 

 noon, the quiet vistas to be travelled later in 

 the evening, and even the dusky groves where 

 it seems to be always night, beckon, not always 

 to unresponding heart. 



The anxieties of seedtime are over ; fear of 



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