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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 237 pages of information about People of the Whirlpool.

“AN EVENT OF INTEREST TO NEW YORK SOCIETY.

“(SPECIAL CABLE TO NEW YORK HERALD.)

“LONDON, Aug. 29.—­Yesterday the marriage took place of Montgomery Bell to Mrs. Vivian Latham, both of New York.  The wedding, at the registrar’s and quite informal, was followed by a breakfast given the couple by Mrs. Center—­who chanced, with several other intimates of the American colony, to be in the city en route to the German baths,—­at her apartment which she always keeps in readiness for occupancy.  Mr. Bell, who is a member of all the best clubs, is known socially as the ‘Indispensable.’  Mr. and Mrs. Bell will return to New York in November and open their magnificent house at Central Park East with a series of the delightful entertainments which they both so well know how to render unique.”

XIV

THE OASIS

September 8.  Three lowering days of wind and rain, and Summer, after a feigned departure, has returned to complete her task of perfecting.

She does this year after year—­the marvel is that we are ever deceived; but after all, what is it but the conflict between arbitrary and natural law?  The almanac-maker says that on the first day of September autumn is due.  Nature, the orbit-maker, proclaims it summer until, the month three-quarters old, the equinox is crossed.  Nature is always right, and after the usual breezy argument sends Summer, her garments a bit storm-tattered, perchance, back to her own.

The ill wind that dashed the tall auratum lilies in the garden to the ground, stripped the clinging fingers of the sweet peas from their trellis, and decapitated the heavy-headed dahlias, has blown me good, held me indoors awhile, sent me to my attic confessional once more, with conscience for priest, and the twins for acolytes, though they presently turned catechists with an entirely new series of questions.

When I have not opened my desk or my garden book for some time, and the planting season, be it of spring or of autumn, as now, overtakes me unawares, I am always newly convinced that gardening is the truly religious life, for it implies a continual preparation for the future, a treading in the straight and narrow path that painful experience alone can mark, an absorption beyond compare, and the continual exercise of hope and love, but above all, of entire childlike faith.

When the time had come in the creative evolution for the stamping of the perfected animal with the Divine image that forever separates him from all previous types, it was no wonder that God set man, in whom the perpetual struggle between the body and soul was to take place, in a garden for his education.

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