IN A GARDEN. 
183 
and come tearing across the lawn, and on to the 
half-way chair, then to the hammock, scrambling 
over each other to inflict their unwelcome caresses 
on my hands and face. 
Ah well, let them have their way and do their 
worst, since the birds are gone, and I shall go soon. 
It is a consolation to think that they are not my 
pets; that I shall not grieve, like their mistress, when 
their brief barking period is over ; that I care just 
so much and no more for them than for any other 
living creature, not excepting the fer-de-lance, 
" quoiled in the path like rope in a ship," or the 
broad-winged vulture " scaling the heavens by 
invisible stairs." None are out of place where 
Nature placed them, nor unlovely ; none are unlov- 
able, since their various qualities — the rage of the 
one and the gentleness of the other — are but har- 
monious lights and shades in the ever-changing 
living picture that is so perfect. 
