232 A WHITE-PAPER GARDEN 



to put her hands into the dirt itself. The 

 change would be but a poor one to me if I 

 had to barter the friendly, homely contact 

 with the pleasant earth for the dignity to 

 which so great a solace was denied. If I 

 had a real garden, with real soil in it, nothing 

 should keep me from going down on my 

 knees and getting every one of my ten fingers 

 as black as black could be. I would dig. I 

 would plant. I would weed: oh, with what joy ! 

 Before the latter rains come, and while the 

 chrysanthemums are budding, is the time for 

 garden-making. There is not the constant 

 hindrance of showery weather which April 

 brings, and instead of courting rheumatisms 

 and influenzas by bending over soaked bor- 

 ders, across which chilly winds are blowing, 

 here is the golden haze of the ripened year 

 to envelop us like a garment ; comforting, 

 strengthening. Leisure is abroad, a wide 

 sense of duty accomplished inspires to new 

 effort, and 



" Hope smiles enchanted, and waves her golden hair." 



Already there must have been long hours 

 of careful planning : already the changes 



