DAYS IN MY GARDEN 



brains ; no casting of moulds for leaf, limb or acorn 

 cup, nor designs of bough junctions yet somewhere 

 the plan was drawn ; the thing conceived ! 



And all through the complex structure runs, in 

 every detail, the same wondrous law of beauty ; even 

 when the great fawn-coloured bole lies prone upon 

 the saw-pit and is slowly 'broken' by the sharp hissing 

 cuts of the saw, the solid planks reveal the marking 

 of the superb grain, flecked with the flower of in- 

 imitable ' splay.' 



A giant of Nature's garden ! created and wrought 

 by an Architect, the working of Whose Mind is in- 

 finitely further beyond that of the limited mind 

 of man with all his boasted learning, than our small 

 knowledge is beyond that of our little friend the nut- 

 hatch, who has just looked at me over the top of a 

 bough. 



Because for awhile we follow' the Hand that guides 

 and can bring to pass, because we name and partially 

 comprehend the varied processes, because we are 

 familiar with results, we are apt to persuade ourselves 

 we understand the cause, or perhaps never even stop 

 to think that a cause is necessary; and so our ignor- 



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