t had leaned and dozed, and lost count, and was gone.

But it is not so much that a garden should have an _old_ sun-dial, as
that it should have a sun-dial. For the matter of that, they are all
old. Venerableness is their birthright. Whoever thinks of youth in a
sun-dial? Were you unboxing one just from the maker would you not
expect to find it moss-grown?

Indeed, are these timepieces of sun and shadow made at all, or do they
just occur here and there like hoary rocks and mossy springs? And what
a charming provision of Nature it is that they so often occur in
gardens! Sun-dials and gardens! Sunshine-and-shadow time for plants to
grow by; sunshine-and-shadow time for flowers to bloom by. Surely this
is the only time by which a morning-glory should waken, by which a
four-o'clock should know its hour, by which an evening primrose should
time its fragrant bloom.

Sun-dials and gardens! Sunshine-and-shadow time for birds to sing by;
sunshine-and-shadow time for mortals to laze and dream by. Beautiful,
silent, peaceful time; where no clocks strike the passing hours, no
whistles scream the round of toil. What time like that of the
noiseless, scarce-moving shadow upon the dial for a sleepy old garden
and a day-dreamer in the sunshine? And if, perchance, the garden-lover
is not building castles in Spain, but has crept into the garden only
for brief rest from the fray, or to give a weary clock-driven soul an
hour with its Maker, then truly again--sun-dials and gardens! Sun-dial
time to rest the fainting heart by; sun-dial time for the troubled soul
to reach up to God by. Sun-dials and gardens!

Be the garden-lover what he may--day-dreamer, fainting heart, troubled
soul--how gently the shadow-finger on the dial points the time for him!
How softly, almost lingeringly, it lets the moments slip from gold to
gray, seeking to give him, to the full and unfretted, his little hour
in the sunshine!

And yet, the gentlest marker of time must mark. It may mark very softly
those passing moments of life's lessening span; but when we come to
look again, the shadow has moved on. Nor can childish interference
avail. Spread your rebellious hands upon the dial; you shall only see
the shadow come stealing through your fingers. Stand defiantly in the
path of the sunlight, and blot out the telltale dial shadow with your
own; it but waits until you step aside, then leaps across the moments
you have wasted. Not for you shall the boon to the sick a