COLOUR AND BEAUTY 



DAYS IN MY GARDEN 



her canvas come and go; 'tis only when we try to 

 copy her and imitate her matchless art that we 

 realise her never-erring taste, and marvel at her 

 skill ; she knows no clash of colour, till man attempts 

 the mixing. 



On every side we are surrounded by this rich 

 THE RIDDLE OP abundance of colour-beauty. The inimitable iri- 



rf"V*T nTTT> A ATT\ T>tl A TTT'V ** 



descence of the butterfly's wing, and the humming- 

 bird's throat, the transcendent beauty of sunrise or 

 sunset, the fired golds of autumn, the hidden, coloured 

 world beneath the sea and earth, the limitless colour 

 range of flowerland, flushed with every delicate shade 

 and brilliant hue, the aforetime lights of threatening 

 ' tempest,' the bird's egg, the opal's gleam, a thousand 

 tones everywhere exquisitely perfect, for what pur- 

 pose are they ? 



There are those who would label each with some 

 utilitarian object the square peg is ingeniously made 

 to fit into the round hole when .an awkward fact 

 challenges a pet theory but rather, it would seem 

 that we see in all these the expression of the Mind of 

 infinite beauty and grace at the back of all. 



