I
was sure I knew what I wanted to do; but I studied a long time
the best way of doing it. Roses? I could hardly transport pots
and trees so far; they were too cumbersome. Geraniums were
open to the same objection, besides being a little tender as
to the cold. Flower seeds could not be sown, if the people had
them; for no patch of garden belonged to their stone huts,
and they had no time to cultivate such a patch if they had it.
I must give what would call for no care, to speak of, and make
no demands upon overtasked strength and time. Neither could I
afford to take anything of such bulk as would draw attention
or call out questions and comments. I knew, as well as I know
now, what would be thought of any plan or action which
supposed _a love of the beautiful_ in creatures the only earthly
use of whom was to raise rice and cotton; who in fact were not
half so important as the harvests they grew. I knew what
unbounded scorn would visit any attempts of mine to minister
to an aesthetic taste in these creatures; and I was in no
mind to call it out upon myself.
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