Explore "The Garden of Resurrection" by E. Temple Thurston on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A little comedy was played here yesterday, here in the garden -- in our garden. I call it ours for, as the days go by in the company of Cruikshank and his Bellwattle, there grows more and more into my mind the belief that theirs is the only way of living. Wherefore, in my vainest imaginings, I share the garden with them, calling it ours to give a flavor of reality to the conceit.
I was not present when this little play was enacted, nor indeed should I have perceived the full comedy of it had I been there. Bellwattle, Dandy and I were away round the first head of the cliffs where the gulls were wheeling, for ever wheeling, up against the wind.