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hand I held out and purred。 It was； I tell you； an enchanted
garden。 I know。 And the size？ Oh！ it stretched far and wide；
this way and that。 I believe there were hills far away。 Heaven
knows where West Kensington had suddenly got to。 And somehow it
was just like coming home。
〃You know； in the very moment the door swung to behind me； I
forgot the road with its fallen chestnut leaves； its cabs and
tradesmen's carts； I forgot the sort of gravitational pull back to
the discipline and obedience of home； I forgot all hesitations and
fear； forgot discretion； forgot all the intimate realities of this
life。 I became in a moment a very glad and wonder…happy little
boyin another world。 It was a world with a different quality； a
warmer； more penetrating and mellower light； with a faint clear
gladness in its air； and wisps of sun…touched cloud in the blueness
of its sky。 And before me ran this long wide path； invitingly；
with weedless beds on either side； rich with untended flowers； and
these two great panthers。 I put my little hands fearlessly on
their soft fur； and caressed their round ears and the sensitive
corners under their ears； and played with them； and it was as
though they welcomed me home。 There was a keen sense of
home…coming in my mind； and when presently a tall； fair girl
appeared in the pathway and came to meet me； smiling； and said
'Well？' to me； and lifted me； and kissed me； and put me down； and
led me by the hand； there was no amazement； but only an impression
of delightful rightness； of being reminded of happy things that had
in some strange way been overlooked。 There were broad steps； I
remember； that came into view between spikes of delphinium； and up
these we went to a great avenue between very old and shady dark
trees。 All down this avenue； you know； between the red chapped
stems； were marble seats of honour and statuary； and very tame and
friendly white doves 。 。 。 。 。
〃And along this avenue my girl…friend led me； looking downI
recall the pleasant lines； the finely…modelled chin of her sweet
kind faceasking me questions in a soft； agreeable voice； and
telling me things； pleasant things I know； though what they were I
was never able to recall 。 。 。 And presently a little Capuchin
monkey； very clean； with a fur of ruddy brown and kindly hazel
eyes； came down a tree to us and ran beside me； looking up at me
and grinning； and presently leapt to my shoulder。 So we went on
our way in great happiness 。 。 。 。〃
He paused。
〃Go on；〃 I said。
〃I remember little things。 We passed an old man musing among
laurels； I remember； and a place gay with paroquets； and came
through a broad shaded colonnade to a spacious cool palace； full of
pleasant fountains； full of beautiful things； full of the quality
and promise of heart's desire。 And there were many things and many
people； some that still seem to stand out clearly and some that are
a little vague； but all these people were beautiful and kind。 In
some wayI don't know howit was conveyed to me that they all
were kind to me； glad to have me there； and filling me with
gladness by their gestures； by the touch of their hands； by the
welcome and love in their eyes。 Yes〃
He mused for awhile。 〃Playmates I found there。 That was very
much to me； because I was a lonely little boy。 They played
delightful games in a grass…covered court where there was a
sun…dial set about with flowers。 And as one played one loved 。 。 。 。
〃Butit's oddthere's a gap in my memory。 I don't remember
the games we played。 I never remembered。 Afterwards； as a child；
I spent long hours trying； even with tears； to recall the form of
that happiness。 I wanted to play it all over againin my nursery
by myself。 No！ All I remember is the happiness and two dear
playfellows who were most with me 。 。 。 。 Then presently came a
sombre dark woman； with a grave； pale face and dreamy eyes； a
sombre woman wearing a soft long robe of pale purple； who carried
a book and beckoned and took me aside with her into a gallery above
a hallthough my playmates were loth to have me go； and ceased
their game and stood watching as I was carried away。 'Come back to
us！' they cried。 'Come back to us soon！' I looked up at her face；
but she heeded them not at all。 Her face was very gentle and
grave。 She took me to a seat in the gallery； and I stood beside
her； ready to look at her book as she opened it upon her knee。 The
pages fell open。 She pointed； and I looked； marvelling； for in the
living pages of that book I saw myself； it was a story about
myself； and in it were all the things that had happened to me since
ever I was born 。 。 。 。
〃It was wonderful to me； because the pages of that book were
not pictures； you understand； but realities。〃
Wallace paused gravelylooked at me doubtfully。
〃Go on；〃 I said。 〃I understand。〃
〃They were realitiesyes； they must have been； people moved
and things came and went in them； my dear mother； whom I had near
forgotten； then my father； stern and upright； the servants； the
nursery； all the familiar things of home。 Then the front door and
the busy streets； with traffic to and fro： I looked and marvelled；
and looked half doubtfully again into the woman's face and turned
the pages over； skipping this and that； to see more of this book；
and more； and so at last I came to myself hovering and hesitating
outside the green door in the long white wall； and felt again the
conflict and the fear。
〃'And next？' I cried； and would have turned on； but the cool
hand of the grave woman delayed me。
〃'Next？' I insisted； and struggled gently with her hand；
pulling up her fingers with all my childish strength； and as she
yielded and the page came over she bent down upon me like a shadow
and kissed my brow。
〃But the page did not show the enchanted garden； nor the
panthers； nor the girl who had led me by the hand； nor the
playfellows who had been so loth to let me go。 It showed a long
grey street in West Kensington； on that chill hour of afternoon
before the lamps are lit； and I was there； a wretched little
figure； weeping aloud； for all that I could do to restrain myself；
and I was weeping because I could not return to my dear
play…fellows who had called after me； 'Come back to us！ Come back
to us soon！' I was there。 This was no page in a book； but harsh
reality； that enchanted place and the restraining hand of the grave
mother at whose knee I stood had gonewhither have they gone？〃
He halted again； and remained for a time； staring into the fire。
〃Oh！ the wretchedness of that return！〃 he murmured。
〃Well？〃 I said after a minute or so。
〃Poor little wretch I wasbrought back to this grey world
again！ As I realised the fulness of what had happened to me； I
gave way to quite ungovernable grief。 And the shame and
humiliation of that public weeping and my disgraceful homecoming
remain with me still。 I see again the benevolent…looking old
gentleman in gold spectacles who stopped and spoke to meprodding
me first with his umbrella。 'Poor little chap；' said he； 'and are
you lost then？'and me a London boy of five and more！ And he must
needs bring in a kindly young policeman and make a crowd of me； and
so march me home。 Sobbing； conspicuous and frightened； I came from
the enchanted garden to the steps of my father's house。
〃That is as well as I can remember my vision of that
gardenthe garden that haunts me still。 Of course； I can convey
nothing of that indescribable quality of translucent unreality；
that difference from the common things of experience that hung
about it all； but thatthat is what happened。 If it was a dream；
I am sure it was a day…time and altogether extraordinary dream 。 。
。 。 。 。 H'm！naturally there followed a terrible questioning； by
my aunt； my father； the nurse； the governesseveryone 。 。 。 。 。 。
〃I tried to tell them； and my father gave me my first
thrashing for telling lies。 When afterwards I tried to tell my
aunt； she punished me again for my wicked persistence。 Then； as I
said； everyone was forbidden to listen to me； to hear a word about
it。 Even my fairy tale books were taken away from me for a
timebecause I was 'too imaginative。' Eh？ Yes； they did that！ My
father belonged to the old school 。 。 。 。 。 And my story was driven
back upon myself。 I whispered it to my pillowmy pillow that was
often damp and salt to my whispering lips with childish tears。 And
I added always to my official and less fervent prayers this one
heartfelt request： 'Please God I may dream of the garden。 Oh！ take
me back to my garden！ Take me back to my garden！'
〃I dreamt often of the garden。 I may have added to it； I may
have changed it； I do not know 。 。 。 。 。 All this you understand
is an attempt to reconstruct from fragmentary memories a very early
experience。 Between that and the other consecutive memories