e have I seen finer foxgloves. I suppose they rejoice me so
because of early memories--to a child it is the most impressive of wild
flowers; I would walk miles any day to see a fine cluster, as I would to
see the shining of purple loosestrife by the water edge, or white lilies
floating upon the still depth.

But the gardener and I understand each other as soon as we go to the back
of the house, and get among the vegetables. On that ground he finds me
perfectly sane. And indeed I am not sure that the kitchen garden does
not give me more pleasure than the domain of flowers. Every morning I
step round before breakfast to see how things are "coming on." It is
happiness to note the swelling of pods, the healthy vigour of potato
plants, aye, even the shooting up of radishes and cress. This year I
have a grove of Jerusalem artichokes; they are seven or eight feet high,
and I seem to get vigour as I look at the stems which are all but trunks,
at the great beautiful leaves. Delightful, too, are the scarlet runners,
which have to be propped again and again, or they would break down under
the abundance of their yield. It is a treat to me to go among them with
a basket, gathering; I feel as though Nature herself showed kindness to
me, in giving me such abundant food. How fresh and wholesome are the
odours--especially if a shower has fallen not long ago!

I have some magnificent carrots this year--straight, clean, tapering, the
colour a joy to look upon.

XXV.

For two things do my thoughts turn now and then to London. I should like
to hear the long note of a master's violin, or the faultless cadence of
an exquisite voice, and I should like to see pictures. Music and
painting have always meant much to me; here I can enjoy them only in
memory.

Of course there is the discomfort of concert-hall and exhibition-rooms.
My pleasure in the finest music would be greatly spoilt by having to sit
amid a crowd, with some idiot audible on right hand or left, and the show
of pictures would give me a headache in the first quarter of an hour.
_Non sum qualis eram_ when I waited several hours at the gallery door to
hear Patti, and knew not a moment's fatigue to the end of the concert; or
when, at the Academy, I was astonished to find that it was four o'clock,
and I had forgotten food since breakfast. The truth is, I do not much
enjoy anything nowadays which I cannot enjoy _alone_. It sounds morose;
I imagine the comment of go