ucts of a given period or school. We classify
too much and enjoy too little. The sacrifice of the aesthetic to the
so-called scientific method of exhibition has been the bane of many
museums.

The claims of contemporary art cannot be ignored in any vital scheme of
life. The art of to-day is that which really belongs to us: it is our
own reflection. In condemning it we but condemn ourselves. We say that
the present age possesses no art:--who is responsible for this? It is
indeed a shame that despite all our rhapsodies about the ancients we pay
so little attention to our own possibilities. Struggling artists, weary
souls lingering in the shadow of cold disdain! In our self-centered
century, what inspiration do we offer them? The past may well look with
pity at the poverty of our civilisation; the future will laugh at the
barrenness of our art. We are destroying the beautiful in life. Would
that some great wizard might from the stem of society shape a mighty
harp whose strings would resound to the touch of genius.

VI. Flowers

In the trembling grey of a spring dawn, when the birds were whispering
in mysterious cadence among the trees, have you not felt that they
were talking to their mates about the flowers? Surely with mankind the
appreciation of flowers must have been coeval with the poetry of love.
Where better than in a flower, sweet in its unconsciousness, fragrant
because of its silence, can we image the unfolding of a virgin soul?
The primeval man in offering the first garland to his maiden thereby
transcended the brute. He became human in thus rising above the crude
necessities of nature. He entered the realm of art when he perceived the
subtle use of the useless.

In joy or sadness, flowers are our constant friends. We eat, drink,
sing, dance, and flirt with them. We wed and christen with flowers. We
dare not die without them. We have worshipped with the lily, we have
meditated with the lotus, we have charged in battle array with the rose
and the chrysanthemum. We have even attempted to speak in the language
of flowers. How could we live without them? It frightens one to conceive
of a world bereft of their presence. What solace do they not bring to
the bedside of the sick, what a light of bliss to the darkness of weary
spirits? Their serene tenderness restores to us our waning confidence
in the universe even as the intent gaze of a beautiful child recalls our
lost hopes. When we are laid low in the dust