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Maxwell, W. B., 1866-1938

"The Devil's Garden"

Here were the narrow streets
and the crowded market-places; the towers and domes; the strangely
garbed traders, laden camels, gorgeous Roman soldiers, brown-faced
priests, black-bodied slaves; sunlit hills high above one, distant
faintly blue mountains far ahead of one--a thronged labyrinth of
shadow and light, of noise and confusion, of pomp and squalor.
But the picture was gone, the dream was broken, the hope was darkened.
He tried to bring it all back again, and failed utterly. He could not
think of Christ riding into Jerusalem; he could only think of Norah
walking along the road to Rodchurch.


XXVIII

Extreme heat came that year with the opening of July, and the
atmosphere at night seemed as oppressive as in the day.
After an unusually wet June the foliage was rich and dense, but
flowers were few and poor--except the roses, which had prospered
greatly. Throughout the daylight hours trees close at hand looked
solid, as if composed of some unbending green material; while those a
little way off were rather firm, presenting the appearance of trees
during heavy rain. Indeed that was the appearance of the whole
scene--a country-side being drenched and rendered vague by a heavy
downpour; but it was sheer heat that was descending, with never an
atom of moisture in it.


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