The Garden of Survival

material of my life. My trade as a soldier has led me to an administrative post in a distant land where, apparently, I have deserved well of my K

whereas mother assured me she had “always known you would do well, my boy, and you have only got your deserts in this tardy recognition.” To her, of course, even at forty-five, I was still her “little boy.” You, however, guessed shrewdly that Luck had pla

, precisely at the moment of their greatest value, clear opportunities that none but a hopeless blunderer could have disregarded. What men call Chance

height my talent never could have reached alone. You, and I, too, for that matter, are as happy over the result as our mother is; only you and I are surprised, because we judge

that apart from these opportunities chance set upon my path, an impulse outside myself — and an impulse that was new — drove me to make use of them. Sometimes

dly know, unless by telling you the simple t

l, there rose in me unbidden at these various junctures, a kind of inner attention which bade me wait and listen for the guiding touch. I am not fanciful, I heard no voice, I was aware of nothing personal by way of

possibly have compassed; my mediocre faculties seemed gathered together and perfected — with the result, in time, that my “intuition,” as others called it, came

wing numbers as my promotions followed, held me in greater respect, apparently, on that very account. The natives, especially, as I mentioned, attributed s

nd no name for it; exactness, I think, might place its truest description in some such term as energy, inner force or inspiration; yet I must admit that, with its steady repetition, there awoke in me an attitude towards it that eluded somewhere also an emotion. And in t

slowly into what I may almost call a habit. There was an emptiness in my heart before it came, a sense of peace and comfort when it was accomplished. The emptiness

it, however, that its effect was most enduring. The method became quite easy to me. When a moment of choice between two courses of action presented itself, I first emptied my heart of all personal inclination, then, pausing upon direction, I knew — or rather felt — which cou

ght the savour of an emotion before unrealized. I had known it but once, and that long years before, but the man’s mind in me increased and added to it. For it seemed a development of that new perception which first dawned upon me d

ntervening years, unknown to me, unrecognized. I cannot say. I only know that here was the origin of the strange energy that now moved me to the depths. Some new worship of Beauty that had love in it, of which, indeed, love was the determining quality, awoke in the profoundest part of me, and even when the “thrill” had gone its way, left me hungry and yearning for

of what I mean? It is one among many others, but I cho

asionally even may alarm. Delicacy, subtlety, suggestion in any form, have no part in it. During the five years of my exile amid this tropical extravagance I can recall no single instance of beauty “hinting” anywhere. Nature seems, rather, audaciously abandoned; she is without restraint. She shows her all, tells everything — she shouts, she never whispe

ssence. It is unexpected. Out of the welter of prolific detail Nature here glories in, a delicate hint of wonder and surprise comes stealing. The change, of course, is in my

cription. It was not, in itself, a complicated situation, and no Governor, who was soldier too, need have hesitated for an instant. The various Stations, indeed, anticipating the usual course of action indicated by precedent, had automatically gone to their posts, prepared for the “official instructions” it was known t

inly remarks not complimentary. Prompt, decisive action was the obvious and only course... while I sat quietly in the Headquarters Bungalow, a sensitive

ted regions behind the Headquarters clearing. Indeed, the Foreign Office, could it have witnessed my unpardonable hesitation, might well have dismissed me on the spot, I think. For I sat there, dreaming

here in this mood of inner attention and expectancy, k

nce which made it seem ordinary, almost cheap and wonderless. Very silent the wooden house lay all about me, there were no footsteps, there was no human voice. I heard only the wash of the heavy-scented wi

he full, slid out of sight behind a streaky cloud. A breath, it seemed, of lighter wind woke all the perfu

ght I was aware of that sharp and tender mood which was preparatory to the th

Or tiny point of fairy scimitar; Bright signal that she only stooped to tie

at lightning passage, cleaving it open to some wisdom that seemed most near to love. For power flowed in a

easoning; I was aware immediately that another and a

ong and laboriously established, since it seemed a dangerous yielding to the natives that must menace the white life everywhere and render trade in the Colony unsafe. Yet I did not hesitat

ire Colony.... The Chiefs came to me, in due course, bringing fruit and flowers and presents enough to bury all Headquarters, and with a

e, perhaps, which lies hid again with beauty very far away.... But I may say this much at least: that it seemed, my inspired action had cooperated with the instinctive beliefs of these mysterious tribes — coo

tion — love. With faith and love I consequently obeyed it. I loved the source of my guidance and assistance, though I dared attach no name to it. Simple enough the matter might have been, could I have referred its origin to some name — to our mother or

atulatory telegrams from our mother and yourself, I was aware — and this feeling never failed with each s