A GARDEN DIARY 7 
SEPTEMBER 4, 1899 
ies has been wet, and is now fine again, con- 
sequently our view of the downs exhibits 
those tones of vinous purple, shading into indigo, 
that in moments of patriotic expansion I am apt 
to call Irish. I do not think it is quite friendly 
of our neighbours, especially those who live upon 
the ridge above our heads, tq smile so significantly 
whenever that word ‘“‘view” happens to slip out, as 
it did just now, in alluding to our new possession, 
and its prospects. For what, after all, is a view? 
The question seems to suggest a reference to 
the dictionary, and here is Webster, ponderous 
in brown calf. ‘‘ View. 1st. Act of seeing, or be- 
holding ; sight ; survey ; examination by the eye. 
and. That which is looked towards, or kept in 
sight; an appearance; a show.” Well, have we 
not something to look towards, to keep in sight, 
some appearance, some show? For that matter, 
so, it may be urged, has the habitant of the “two 
pair back,” or the rustic whose prospect is limited 
to a survey of his or her neighbours’ under 
