ever came. From the garden under the windows might have been gathered
fruits whose aroma would have tempted spirits of the air. The cabbage-
patch may be seen afar, but too often the strawberry-bed even if it
exists is hidden by weeds, and the later small fruits struggle for
bare life in some neglected corner. Indeed, an excursion into certain
parts of Hew England might suggest that many of its thrifty citizens
would not have been content in Eden until they had put its best land
into onions and tobacco. Through the superb scenery of Vermont there
flows a river whose name, one might think, would secure an unfailing
tide from the eyes of the inhabitants. The Alpine strawberry grows
wild in all that region, but the puritan smacked his lips over another
gift of nature and named the romantic stream in its honor. To account
for certain tastes or tendencies, mankind must certainly have fallen a
little way, or, if Mr. Darwin's view is correct, and we are on a
slight up-grade, a dreadful hitch and tendency to backslide has been
apparent at a certain point ever since the Hebrews sighed for the
"leeks and onions of Egypt."


Of course, there is little hope for the rural soul that "loathes" the
light manna of small fruits. We must leave it to evolution for another
cycle or two. But, as already indicated, we believe that humanity in
the main has reached a point where its internal organs highly approve
of the delicious group of fruits that strayed out of Paradise, and
have not yet lost themselves among the "thorns and thistles." Indeed,
modern skill--the alchemy of our age--has wrought such wonders that
Eden is possible again to all who will take the trouble to form Eden-
like tastes and capacities.

The number who are doing this is increasing every year, The large