Travel Is In Sad Case. It Is

For The Last 40 Years Of My Life I Have Broken My Back, My Fingernails, And Sometimes My Heart, In The Practical Pursuit Of My Favourite Occupation.

The Public, As A Whole, Finds Reassurance In Longevity, And, After The Necessary Interlude Of Reaction, Is Disposed To Recognize Extreme Old Age As A Sign Of Excellence. The Long-liver Has Triumphed Over At Least One Of Man's Initial Handicaps: The Brevity Of Life.

The Shortest Day Has Passed, And Whatever Nastiness Of Weather We May Look Forward To In January And February, At Least We Notice That The Days Are Getting Longer. Minute By Minute They Lengthen Out. It Takes Some Weeks Before We Become Aware Of The Change. It Is Imperceptible Even As The Growth Of A Child, As You Watch It Day By Day, Until The Moment Comes When With A Start Of Delighted Surprise We Realize That We Can Stay Out Of Doors In A Twilight Lasting For Another Quarter Of A Precious Hour.

The Farmer And The Gardener Are Both Busy, The Gardener Perhaps The More Excitable Of The Two, For He Is More Of The Amateur, Concerned With The Creation Of Beauty Rather Than With The Providing Of Food. Gardening Is A Luxury Occupation; An Ornament, Not A Necessity, Of Life.

The More One Gardens, The More One Learns; And The More One Learns, The More One Realizes How Little One Knows.