THE WHITE ROCKERY 93 



Nature cannot, of course, please all of us, though, 

 such is my love for her, that I believe she would 

 gladly do so if it was within her power. Human 

 life grows more complex with every century ; but 

 the laws of life, as she has laid them down, know 

 no change. Interests are now so varied, competition 

 is so keen, conditions are become so sophisticated, 

 that Nature can only satisfy a section of the com- 

 munity at a time. Take an instance of the sort of 

 problem that faces her at every turn. 



Once I grew an apricot tree upon a wall. Over the 

 wall was the garden of my friend Atkinson, and he 

 devoted much of his attention to the earliest of early 

 potatoes. The time was an hour before midnight, 

 and Nature, tripping that way with queenly loveliness, 

 stayed her silver feet for a moment to note the pro- 

 gress of things. Stars were in her hair ; a breath as 

 of a moonlit cloud hung about her beautiful lips. Her 

 purpose was of course evident. The season began to 

 get too mild, and, after a week of dry weather, a good 

 sharp frost seemed indicated to keep the spring 

 blossom in the bud for a while longer. Nature saw 

 my apricot tree and smiled at the little tight bloom- 

 buds, packed away within their winter quarters. 

 Frost was just what they wanted to keep the eager 

 white petals from trembling out and exposing the 

 heart of the flower to danger. But then Nature 

 caught sight of the beginning of my neighbour's 

 potatoes, and she smiled no more. Too well she 

 knew that Atkinson did not want her silver feet there. 

 Experience of Atkinson in the past had taught her to 



