elizabeth and her german garden-第15部分

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ternoon；　with　the　thermometer　so　many　degrees　below　freezing　that　it　will　be　weeks　finding　its　way　up　again；　but　there　was　no　wind；　and　beautiful　sunshine；　and　I　was　well　wrapped　up　in　furs。　I　even　had　tea　brought　out　there；　to　the　astonishment　of　the　menials；　and　sat　till　long　after　the　sun　had　set；　enjoying　the　frosty　air。　I　had　to　drink　the　tea　very　quickly；　for　it　showed　a　strong　inclination　to　begin　to　freeze。　　After　the　sun　had　gone　down　the　rooks　came　home　to　their　nests　in　the　garden　with　a　great　fuss　and　fluttering；　and　many　hesitations　and　squabbles　before　they　settled　on　their　respective　trees。　They　flew　over　my　head　in　hundreds　with　a　mighty　swish　of　wings；　and　when　they　had　arranged　themselves　comfortably；　an　intense　hush　fell　upon　the　garden；　and　the　house　began　to　look　like　a　Christmas　card；　with　its　white　roof　against　the　clear；　pale　green　of　the　western　sky；　and　lamplight　shining　in　the　windows。

I　had　been　reading　a　Life　of　Luther；　lent　me　by　our　parson；　in　the　intervals　between　looking　round　me　and　being　happy。　He　came　one　day　with　the　book　and　begged　me　to　read　it；　having　discovered　that　my　interest　in　Luther　was　not　as　living　as　it　ought　to　be；　so　I　took　it　out　with　me　into　the　garden；　because　the　dullest　book　takes　on　a　certain　saving　grace　if　read　out　of　doors；　just　as　bread　and　butter；　devoid　of　charm　in　the　drawing…room；　is　ambrosia　eaten　under　a　tree。　I　read　Luther　all　the　afternoon　with　pauses　for　refreshing　glances　at　the　garden　and　the　sky；　and　much　thankfulness　in　my　heart。　His　struggles　with　devils　amazed　me　；　and　I　wondered　whether　such　a　day　as　that；　full　of　grace　and　the　forgiveness　of　sins；　never　struck　him　as　something　to　make　him　relent　even　towards　devils。　He　apparently　never　allowed　himself　just　to　be　happy。　He　was　a　wonderful　man；　but　I　am　glad　I　was　not　his　wife。

Our　parson　is　an　interesting　person；　and　untiring　in　his　efforts　to　improve　himself。　　Both　he　and　his　wife　study　whenever　they　have　a　spare　moment；　and　there　is　a　tradition　that　she　stirs　her　puddings　with　one　hand　and　holds　a　Latin　grammar　in　the　other；　the　grammar；　of　course；　getting　the　greater　share　of　her　attention。　　To　most　German　Hausfraus　the　dinners　and　the　puddings　are　of　paramount　importance；　and　they　pride　themselves　on　keeping　those　parts　of　their　houses　that　are　seen　in　a　state　of　perpetual　and　spotless　perfection；　and　this　is　exceedingly　praiseworthy；　but；　I　would　humbly　inquire；　are　there　not　other　things　even　more　important？　　And　is　not　plain　living　and　high　thinking　better　than　the　other　way　about？　And　all　too　careful　making　of　dinners　and　dusting　of　furniture　takes　a　terrible　amount　of　precious　time；　andand　with　shame　I　confess　that　my　sympathies　are　all　with　the　pudding　and　the　grammar。　It　cannot　be　right　to　be　the　slave　of　one's　household　gods；　and　I　protest　that　if　my　furniture　ever　annoyed　me　by　wanting　to　be　dusted　when　I　wanted　to　be　doing　something　else；　and　there　was　no　one　to　do　the　dusting　for　me；　I　would　cast　it　all　into　the　nearest　bonfire　and　sit　and　warm　my　toes　at　the　flames　with　great　contentment；　triumphantly　selling　my　dusters　to　the　very　next　pedlar　who　was　weak　enough　to　buy　them。　Parsons'　wives　have　to　do　the　housework　and　cooking　themselves；　and　are　thus　not　only　cooks　and　housemaids；　but　if　they　have　children　and　they　always　do　have　childrenthey　are　head　and　under　nurse　as　well；　and　besides　these　trifling　duties　have　a　good　deal　to　do　with　their　fruit　and　vegetable　garden；　and　everything　to　do　with　their　poultry。　This　being　so；　is　it　not　pathetic　to　find　a　young　woman　bravely　struggling　to　learn　languages　and　keep　up　with　her　husband？　If　I　were　that　husband；　those　puddings　would　taste　sweetest　to　me　that　were　served　with　Latin　sauce。　　They　are　both　severely　pious；　and　are　for　ever　engaged　in　desperate　efforts　to　practise　what　they　preach；　than　which；　as　we　all　know；　nothing　is　more　difficult。　He　works　in　his　parish　with　the　most　noble　self…devotion；　and　never　loses　courage；　although　his　efforts　have　been　several　times　rewarded　by　disgusting　libels　pasted　up　on　the　street…corners；　thrown　under　doors；　and　even　fastened　to　his　own　garden　wall。　The　peasant　hereabouts　is　past　belief　low　and　animal；　and　a　sensitive；　intellectual　parson　among　them　is　really　a　pearl　before　swine。　For　years　he　has　gone　on　unflinchingly；　filled　with　the　most　living　faith　and　hope　and　charity；　and　I　sometimes　wonder　whether　they　are　any　better　now　in　his　parish　than　they　were　under　his　predecessor；　a　man　who　smoked　and　drank　beer　from　Monday　morning　to　Saturday　night；　never　did　a　stroke　of　work；　and　often　kept　the　scanty　congregation　waiting　on　Sunday　afternoons　while　he　finished　his　postprandial　nap。　It　is　discouraging　enough　to　make　most　men　give　in；　and　leave　the　parish　to　get　to　heaven　or　not　as　it　pleases；　but　he　never　seems　discouraged；　and　goes　on　sacrificing　the　best　part　of　his　life　to　these　people　when　all　his　tastes　are　literary；　and　all　his　inclinations　towards　the　life　of　the　student。　His　convictions　drag　him　out　of　his　little　home　at　all　hours　to　minister　to　the　sick　and　exhort　the　wicked；　they　give　him　no　rest；　and　never　let　him　feel　he　has　done　enough；　and　when　he　comes　home　weary；　after　a　day's　wrestling　with　his　parishioners'　souls；　he　is　confronted　on　his　doorstep　by　filthy　abuse　pasted　up　on　his　own　front　door。　He　never　speaks　of　these　things；　but　how　shall　they　be　hid？　Everybody　here　knows　everything　that　happens　before　the　day　is　over；　and　what　we　have　for　dinner　is　of　far　greater　general　interest　than　the　most　astounding　political　earthquake。　　They　have　a　pretty；　roomy　cottage；　and　a　good　bit　of　ground　adjoining　the　churchyard。　His　predecessor　used　to　hang　out　his　washing　on　the　tombstones　to　dry；　but　then　he　was　a　person　entirely　lost　to　all　sense　of　decency；　and　had　finally　to　be　removed；　preaching　a　farewell　sermon　of　a　most　vituperative　description；　and　hurling　invective　at　the　Man　of　Wrath；　who　sat　up　in　his　box　drinking　in　every　word　and　enjoying　himself　thoroughly。　　The　Man　of　Wrath　likes　novelty；　and　such　a　sermon　had　never　been　heard　before。　　It　is　spoken　of　in　the　village　to　this　day　with　bated　breath　and　awful　joy。


December　22nd。Up　to　now　we　have　had　a　beautiful　winter。　Clear　skies；　frost；　little　wind；　and；　except　for　a　sharp　touch　now　and　then；　very　few　really　cold　days。　　My　windows　are　gay　with　hyacinths　and　lilies　of　the　valley；　and　though；　as　I　have　said；　I　don't　admire　the　smell　of　hyacinths　in　the　spring　when　it　seems　wanting　in　youth　and　chastity　next　to　that　of　other　flowers；　I　am　glad　enough　now　to　bury　my　nose　in　their　heavy　sweetness。　In　December　one　cannot　afford　to　be　fastidious；　besides；　one　is　actually　less　fastidious　about　everything　in　the　winter。　The　keen　air　braces　soul　as　well　as　body　into　robustness；　and　the　food　and　the　perfume　disliked　in　the　summer　are　perfectly　welcome　then。

I　am　very　busy　preparing　for　Christmas；　but　have　often　locked　myself　up　in　a　room　alone；　shutting　out　my　unfinished　duties；　to　study　the　flower　catalogues　and　make　my　lists　of　seeds　and　shrubs　and　trees　for　the　spring。　It　is　a　fascinating　occupation；　and　acquires　an　additional　charm　when　you　know　you　ought　to　be　doing　something　else；　that　Christmas　is　at　the　door；　that　children　and　servants　and　farm　hands　depend　on　you　for　their　pleasure；　and　that；　if　you　don't　see　to　the　decoration　of　the　trees　and　house；　and　the　buying　of　the　presents；　nobody　else　will。　The　hours　fly　by　shut　up　with　those　catalogues　and　with　Duty　snarling　on　the　other　side　of　the　door。　　I　don't　like　Duty　everything　in　the　least　disagreeable　is　always　sure　to　be　one's　duty。　Why　cannot　it　be　my　duty　to　make　lists　and　plans　for　the　dear　garden？　〃And　so　it　is；〃　I　insisted　to　the　Man　of　Wrath；　when　he　protested　against　what　he　called　wasting　my　time　upstairs。　〃No；〃　he　replied　sagely；　〃your　garden　is　not　your　duty；　because　it　is　your　Pleasure。〃

What　a　comfort　it　is　to　have　such　wells　of　wisdom　constantly　at　my　disposal！　　Anybody　can　have　a　husband；　but　to　few　is　it　given　to　have　a　sage；　and　the　combination　of　both　is　as　rare　as　it　is　useful。　Indeed；　in　its　practical　utility　the　only　thing　I　ever　saw　to　equal　it　is　a　sofa　my　neighbour　has　bought　as　a　Christmas　surprise　for　her　husband；　and　which　she　showed　me　the　last　time　I　called　therea　beautiful　invention；　as　she　explained；　combining　a　bedstead；　a　sofa；　and　a　chest　of　drawers；　and　into　which　you　put　your　clothes；　and　on　top　of　which　you　put　yourself；　and　if　anybody　calls　in　the　middle　of　the　night　and　you　happen　to　be　using　the　drawing…room　as　a　bedroom；　you　just　pop　the　bedclothes　inside；　and　there　you　are　discovered　sitting　on　your　sofa　and　looking　for　all　the　world　as　though　you　had　been　expecting　visitors　for　hours。

〃Pray；　does　he　wear　pyjamas？〃　　I　inquired。

But　she　had　never　heard　of　pyjamas。

It　takes　a　long　time　to　make　my　spring　lists。　I　want　to　have　a　border　all　yellow；　every　shade　of　yellow　from　fieriest　orange　to　nearly　white；　and　the　amount　of　work　and　studying　of　gardening　books　it　costs　me　will　only　be　appreciated　by　beginners　like　myself。　I　have　been　weeks　planning　it；　and　it　is　not　nearly　finished。　I　want　it　to　be　a　succession　of　glories　from　May　till　the　frosts；　and　the　chief　feature　is　to　be　the　number　of　〃ardent　marigolds〃　flowers　that　I　very　tenderly　loveand　nasturtiums。　The　nasturtiums　are　to　be　of　every　sort　and　shade；　and　are　to　climb　and　creep　and　grow　in　bushes；　and　show　their　lovely　flowers　and　leaves　to　the　best　advantage。　Then　there　are　to　be　eschscholtzias；　dahlias；　sunflowers；　zinnias；　scabiosa；　portulaca；　yellow　violas；　yellow　stocks；　yellow　sweet…peas；　yellow　lupinseverything　that　is　yellow　or　that　has　a　yellow　variety。　　The　place　I　have　chosen　for　it　is　a　long；　wide　border　in　the　sun；　at　the　foot　of　a　grassy　slope　crowned　with　lilacs　and　pines；　and　facing　southeast。　You　go　through　a　little　pine　wood；　and；　turning　a　corner；　are　to　come　suddenly　upon　this　bit　of　captured　morning　glory。　I　want　it　to　be　blinding　in　its　brightness　after　the　dark；　cool　path　through　the　wood。

That　is　the　idea。　　Depression　seizes　me　when　I　reflect　upon　the　probable　difference　between　the　idea　and　its　realisation。　I　am　ignorant；　and　the　gardener　is；　I　do　believe；　still　more　so；　for　he　was　forcing　some　tulips；　and　they　have　all　shrivelled　up　and　died；　an