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and tended it； and gave up life and fame to aid its growth。 In the hot days
of their youth； they came to the gate of the garden and knocked； begging
to be let in； and to be counted among the gardeners。 And their young
companions without called to them to come back； and play the man with
bow and spear； and win sweet smiles from rosy lips； and take their part
amid the feast； and dance； not stoop with wrinkled brows； at weaklings'
work。 And the passers by mocked them and called shame； and others
cried out to stone them。 And still they stayed there laboring； that the tree
might grow a little； and they died and were forgotten。
And the tree grew fair and strong。 The storms of ignorance passed
over it； and harmed it not。 The fierce fires of superstition soared around
it； but men leaped into the flames and beat them back； perishing； and the
tree grew。 With the sweat of their brow have men nourished its green
leaves。 Their tears have moistened the earth about it。 With their blood
they have watered its roots。
The seasons have come and passed； and the tree has grown and
flourished。 And its branches have spread far and high； and ever fresh
shoots are bursting forth； and ever new leaves unfolding to the light。 But
they are all part of the one treethe tree that was planted on the first
birthday of the human race。 The stem that bears them springs from the
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gnarled old trunk that was green and soft when white…haired Time was a
little child； the sap that feeds them is drawn up through the roots that twine
and twist about the bones of the ages that are dead。
The human mind can no more produce an original thought than a tree
can bear an original fruit。 As well might one cry for an original note in
music as expect an original idea from a human brain。
One wishes our friends； the critics； would grasp this simple truth； and
leave off clamoring for the impossible； and being shocked because they do
not get it。 When a new book is written； the high…class critic opens it with
feelings of faint hope； tempered by strong conviction of coming
disappointment。 As he pores over the pages； his brow darkens with
virtuous indignation； and his lip curls with the Godlike contempt that the
exceptionally great critic ever feels for everybody in this world； who is not
yet dead。 Buoyed up by a touching； but totally fallacious； belief that he
is performing a public duty； and that the rest of the community is waiting
in breathless suspense to learn his opinion of the work in question； before
forming any judgment concerning it themselves； he； nevertheless； wearily
struggles through about a third of it。 Then his long…suffering soul revolts；
and he flings it aside with a cry of despair。
〃Why； there is no originality whatever in this；〃 he says。 〃This book is
taken bodily from the Old Testament。 It is the story of Adam and Eve all
over again。 The hero is a mere man！ with two arms； two legs； and a head
（so called）。 Why； it is only Moses's Adam under another name！ And
the heroine is nothing but a woman！ and she is described as beautiful； and
as having long hair。 The author may call her 'Angelina；' or any other
name he chooses； but he has evidently； whether he acknowledges it or not；
copied her direct from Eve。 The characters are barefaced plagiarisms
from the book of Genesis！ Oh！ to find an author with originality！〃
One spring I went a walking tour in the country。 It was a glorious
spring。 Not the sort of spring they give us in these miserable times；
under this shameless governmenta mixture of east wind； blizzard； snow；
rain； slush； fog； frost； hail； sleet and thunder…stormsbut a sunny； blue…
sky'd； joyous spring； such as we used to have regularly every year when I
was a young man； and things were different。
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It was an exceptionally beautiful spring； even for those golden days；
and as I wandered through the waking land； and saw the dawning of the
coming green； and watched the blush upon the hawthorn hedge； deepening
each day beneath the kisses of the sun； and looked up at the proud old
mother trees； dandling their myriad baby buds upon their strong fond arms；
holding them high for the soft west wind to caress as he passed laughing
by； and marked the primrose yellow creep across the carpet of the woods；
and saw the new flush of the field and saw the new light on the hills； and
heard the new…found gladness of the birds； and heard from copse and farm
and meadow the timid callings of the little new…born things； wondering to
find themselves alive； and smelt the freshness of the earth； and felt the
promise in the air； and felt a strong hand in the wind； my spirit rose within
me。 Spring had come to me also； and stirred me with a strange new life；
with a strange new hope I； too； was part of nature； and it was spring！
Tender leaves and blossoms were unfolding from my heart。 Bright
flowers of love and gratitude were opening round its roots。 I felt new
strength in all my limbs。 New blood was pulsing through my veins。
Nobler thoughts and nobler longings were throbbing through my brain。
As I walked； Nature came and talked beside me； and showed me the
world and myself； and the ways of God seemed clearer。
It seemed to me a pity that all the beautiful and precious thoughts and
ideas that were crowding in upon me should be lost to my fellow…men； and
so I pitched my tent at a little cottage； and set to work to write them down
then and there as they came to me。
〃It has been complained of me；〃 I said to myself； 〃that I do not write
literary and high class workat least； not work that is exceptionally
literary and high…class。 This reproach shall be removed。 I will write an
article that shall be a classic。 I have worked for the ordinary； every…day
reader。 It is right that I should do something now to improve the
literature of my beloved country。〃
And I wrote a grand essaythough I say it who should not； though I
don't see why I shouldn'tall about spring； and the way it made you feel；
and what it made you think。 It was simply crowded with elevated
thoughts and high…class ideas and cultured wit； was that essay。 There
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was only one fault about that essay： it was too brilliant。 I wanted
commonplace relief。 It would have exhausted the average reader； so
much cleverness would have wearied him。
I wish I could remember some of the beautiful things in that essay； and
here set them down； because then you would be able to see what they were
like for yourselves； and that would be so much more simpler than my
explaining to you how beautiful they were。 Unfortunately； however； I
cannot now call to mind any of them。
I was very proud of this essay； and when I got back to town I called on
a very superior friend of mine； a critic； and read it to him。 I do not care
for him to see any of my usual work； because he really is a very superior
person indeed； and the perusal of it appears to give him pains inside。 But
this article； I thought； would do him good。
〃What do you think of it？〃 I asked； when I had finished。
〃Splendid；〃 he replied； 〃excellently arranged。 I never knew you were
so well acquainted with the works of the old writers。 Why； there is
scarcely a classic of any note that you have not quoted from。 But where…
…where；〃 he added； musing； 〃did you get that last idea but two from？ It's
the only one I don't seem to remember。 It isn't a bit of your own； is it？〃
He said that； if so； he should advise me to leave it out。 Not that it
was altogether