34 FIELD AND HEDGEROW. 
And fragrant thyme, and all the unsown beauty 
Which in moist grounds the verdant meadows bear ; 
The ox-eye, the sweet-smelling flower of Jove, 
The chalca, and the much-sung hyacinth, 
And the low-growing violet, to which 
Dark Proserpine a darker hue has given. 
They come nearest to our own violets and cowslips—the 
ansown beauty of our meadows—to the hawthorn leaf 
and the high pinewood. I can forget all else that I have 
read, but it is difficult to forget these even when I will. 
I read them in English. I had the usual Latin and 
Greek instruction, but I read them in English deliberately. 
For the inflexion of the vowel I care nothing; I prize 
the idea. Scholars may regard me with scorn. I reply 
with equal scorn. I say that a great classic thought is 
greater to an English mind in English words than in 
any other form, and therein fits best to this our life and 
day. I read them in English first, and intend to do so 
to the end. I do not know what set me on these books,; 
but I began them when about eighteen. The first of all 
was Diogenes Laertius’s ‘ Lives of the Philosophers,’ It 
was a happy choice; my good genius, I suppose, for you 
see I was already fairly well read in modern science, and 
these old Greek philosophies set me thinking backwards, 
unwinding and unlearning, and getting at that eidolon, 
which is not to be found in the mechanical heavens of 
this age. I still read him. I still find new things, quite 
new, because they are so very, very old, and quite true; 
and with his help I seem ina measure to look back upon 
our thoughts now as if I had projected myself a thousand 
years forward in space. An imperfect book, say the 
critics. I do not know about that; his short para- 
graphs and chapters in their imperfect state convey more 
freshness to the mind than the thick, laboured volumes 
