THROUGH LIBRARY WINDOWS 23 



often walk the narrow bypath near it, just to 

 get whifis of its saintly benediction — for bene- 

 diction it is to every possible sense. Our grape- 

 vine has so many beauties and virtues we never 

 tire of looking at it and talking about it. It is 

 such a living symphony of generosity and joy, 

 so illustrative of grace and sculptured beauty, 

 so overflowing in its elusive flower-odor. Then 

 its exquisite leaves, beautiful in tender and ta- 

 king colors, its fruit most delicately hued with 

 an inconceivably delicious blush baffling all art 

 attempt at reproduction; then its wine, so sym- 

 bolic, so health-giving to the enfeebled. Blessed 

 old grape-vine ! 



My garden is my paradise, and why not? 

 Beautiful things are right; there is no grace in 

 ugly things and hard usage and self-denial ; the 

 old monks thought so and grew in grace — per- 

 haps. But I grow in grace most in the excel- 

 lent condition of my garden, when weeds are 

 removed, the lawn moist and velvety, flowers 

 blossoming and shrubs putting on rich growths 

 of leaves and burdened with red and purple and 

 pink and white blossoms, and all lading the air 

 with choice perfumes. Things in good work- 

 ing condition and I grow glad, gladder than I 

 can say or think. Somehow, there is between 

 us and our garden a most friendly understand- 



