A message of truth came to me one day recently, while working at the fernery or rockery. I was alone, yet nature was crying loudly all around me, and there was so much company and so many lessons to be learned! I saw that to make beautiful one's surroundings, wherever he is placed, is as certainly a poetic art as the writing of beautiful verses, and points to the wonderful possibilities of spiritual understanding. The mortal vista around me included a tumbledown house and surroundings at the foot of a rocky hillside; a crude smoke-house near a large spring full of uncleanness; beautiful but neglected trees and yard where nature was trying to do her best, regardless of neglectful mortal man, who is ever chasing the gross dollar and letting the great wealth of beauty pass by unheeded.

Then a man and woman who had become tired of seeking that which is material, purchased this ruined heap and undertook to bring it into harmony with nature's true meaning, and it has become a veritable beauty-spot. The spring was cleaned out and enclosed, with a place made for the wayfaring man and his beast to drink. Ferns were planted all along its banks; the crude smoke-house was converted into a pretty little bungalow with vine-covered pergola in front, and a screened-in breakfast-room at the side, under great oaks and elms. On the shady side a fernery was made of the rocks picked from underfoot; potted plants were set in the screened enclosure with a dainty touch here and there, and vines were led to cover unsightly rock piles and outbuildings until they could be removed, fences were built, weeds kept down, and trees trimmed, while grasses were sown and flowers of many kinds bloomed everywhere. More than this, there were two glad hearts that loved the work, for to their world-weary thought it became a poem, new every day.

April 12, 1913

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