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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Devil's Garden, by W. B. Maxwell This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: The Devil's Garden Author: W. B. Maxwell Release Date: January 5, 2005 [eBook #14605] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DEVIL'S GARDEN*** E-text prepared by Rick Niles, Victoria Woosley, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) THE DEVIL'S GARDEN by W. B. MAXWELL Author of _In Cotton Wool_, _Mrs. Thompson_, _Seymour Charlton_, etc. Indianapolis The Bobbs-Merrill Company Publishers 1914 THE DEVIL'S GARDEN The Devil playeth in a man's mind like a wanton child in a garden, bringing his filth to choke each open path, uprooting the tender plants, and trampling the buds that should have blown for the Master. I The village postmaster stood staring at an official envelope that had just been shaken out of a mailbag upon the sorting-table. It was addressed to himself; and for a few moments his heart beat quicker, with sharp, clean percussions, as if it were trying to imitate the sounds made by the two clerks as they plied their stampers on the blocks. Perhaps this envelope contained his fate. Soon the stamping was finished; the sorting went on steadily and methodically; before long the letters and parcels were neatly arranged in compartments near the postmen's bags. The first delivery of the day was ready to go forth to the awakening world. "All through, Mr. Dale." The postmaster struck a bell, and glanced at the clock. Five fifty-six. Up to time, as usual. "Now then, my lads, off with you." The postmen had come into the sorting-room, and were packing their bags and slinging their parcels. "Sharp's the word." Picking up his unopened letter, the postmaster went through the public office, stood on the outer threshold, and looked up and down the street. To his left the ground sloped downward through a narrowing perspective of house-fronts and roof cornices to faint white mist, in which one could see some cattle moving vaguely, and beyond which, if one knew that it was the
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