Look upward, for the sky is not all cloud. Look forward, think not of the dismal shroud. No lane but has a turning, and no road That leads not somewhere to a warm abode. Take courage. If the day seems rather long, The cooling dew will fall at evensong. Believe, and Doubt is sure to slink away, Doubt is a cur; and Fear is but a fool; Rely upon yourself and let your stay Be the observance of the heavenly rule. Never say die; and do not be afraid; At eventide the wages will be paid. A Dutch friend of mine gave me the following very good recipe for cooking anchovies: “Take an old garden hat, boil for seven minutes in boiling water. Add four pounds of cinnamon, one nutmeg, and half a glass of Chablis. Cut the anchovies in pieces and place on china plate. Pour the boiling water over them, and serve tepid with slices of lemon.” Another friend of mine gave me this quaint, old-fashioned recipe for boiling a turkey: “Gather strawberry leaves on Lamas Eve, press them in the distillery until the aromatick perfume thereof becomes sensible. Take a fat turkey and pluck him, and baste him, then enfold him carefully in the strawberry leaves. Then boyl him in water from the well, and add rosemary, rue, parsefoil, passevelours, carraway, floramour, velvet flower, lavender, thistles, stinging nettles, and other sweet smelling herbs. Add also a pinte of Canary wine, and half pound of butter and one of ginger passed through the sieve. Serve with plums and stewed raisons and a little salt. Cover him with a silver dish cover. The Compleat Cook, 1656.” Appended to this was the quaint motto:-- “Live and learne, for flowyrres fade, June waiteth not for man or mayde.” That is the kind of thing you will find in the June chapter of the modern book on “Gardening.” Then, if you take a book on a definite place, called, say, Rome. What do you find? Facts? No. Dates? No. But something like this:-- _The Spirit of Rome_ (_with apologies to Vernon Lee_) _May 11._ We drove this afternoon to the Villa Madama; on the way we talked of Richard Strauss and the non-melodic musicians. Strauss is a Dionysiac. We compared his prophetic mood-music with the old-fashioned facile melodies of Wagner that pleased our youth. While we were talking a shepherd passed us. As he passed he took off his hat and said, “Buon giorno.” Very Roman that. _May 27._ Porta Pia. A ragged cloud in the west and the sun shining very pale and watery. Passed a man playing a harmonium. P---- insisted on stopping to listen and the man asked him the time. This is the kind of thing that only happens to P---- and in Rome. _May 31._ Mount Aventine. S---- and I strolled up the hill. We walked into a church (blonde marbles and seaweed-coloured pillars). A woman dressed in a bonnet and black silk came in and said her prayers. S---- said this reminded her of Boston. Why?