I
I
look
round the quiet garden of the Institution where I am sitting, sheltered by the mellow red-brick colonnade. It is a place of peace, of rest after storm. The gentle pale-faced figures who walk among the roses, smiling vacantly at each other from time to time or stopping to touch a bloom or a new bud with simple fingers, are creatures of peace like me. Soon the bell will sound to call us to our duties or our bed. And we shall go without question or demur, for now after sickness and tempest we know that the quiet mind, the unmoved heart, may only come to those who learn to shut their eyes and ears to other calls of the frantic world. Peace only comes by strict obedience.
Yet before the bell sounds and while I may still look across the garden to watch the shadows striking over the
