228 A GARDEN DIARY 
dislike it, and they are probably right in doing 
so. It is true that what we call the Past, that 
which is entirely put away, and done with, 
might seem to be a harmless enough subject of 
contemplation. So conceivably it might be, were 
it not for the fact that in following it one is apt 
to find oneself brought suddenly face to face with 
the other, and the far more formidable brother ; 
the one whose kingdom lies, not behind us, but 
ahead. At those dim barriers all real advance is 
inexorably stayed ; into the recesses beyond them 
no secular lantern has ever peered; while even 
our most authoritative, our most convinced guides, 
can at best assure us as to its geography with 
hesitating, and often curiously conflicting voices. 
To abstain from all attempts at peering into 
that obscurity is more perhaps than can be asked 
of mortals. The less of such peerings we indulge 
in, however, surely the better, because the saner, 
because, also, the more trustful. Of all the catar- 
acts of words, poured in verbal Niagaras over 
this momentous topic, have there been many, I 
wonder, wiser or truer than these of old Hooker? 
I write them down as they have lodged in my 
memory ; probably therefore quite incorrectly. 
“Rash were it for the feeble mind of man to 
wade far into the doings of the Almighty. For 
though ‘tis Joy to know Him, and Pride to make 
mention of His name, yet our deepest Wisdom 
is to know that we know Him not, and our truest 
Homage is our Silence.” 
