MY GARDEN These ants are a well-ordered community, 



OF DREAMS i • «. «.u vu , f r . , r J 



working together with a wonderful intelligence. 



Study sociology over an ant-hill. 



All this is but a small part of what we might 

 see on or about a single rose-bush. And what 

 we do here see of the life of the garden is not at 

 all beautiful. There is death as well as life on 

 our white rose bush. The beetle mars the 

 beauty of the flower. The aphides feed on the 

 very life of the plants. With every flower, with 

 every leaf, are born and die the insects that 

 inhabit them and feed upon them, and like- 

 wise those that eat these insects themselves. 

 "A flower which is born and dies is a world 

 with its inhabitants." 



Here in my garden I read the story of Won- 

 derland. These blossoms on my white rose 

 bush are of the universal wonder stuff, and so 

 is the worm that crawls upon the leaf. 



It sets me to wondering, which is often the 

 same as dreaming. 



Why are all these wonderful things here? 

 Have they merely been thrown out by 

 an Almighty Hand, or come from some 

 one simple potency which works aimlessly, 



[88] 



