A GARDEN DIARY 71 
towering twigs. It was a kindly thought of 
whichever divinity sent that most unexpected 
and satisfactory beam to cheer this particular 
day. It did not last long of course, and the 
gloom of a winter’s night has followed quickly. 
For all that Christmas 1899 will never seem 
quite so dark, never so absolutely despairing in 
the retrospect, as it would have done without 
that last benevolent gleam at eventide. 
