The Henson Journals

[54]

Saturday, June 8th, 1918.

1405th day

I prepared notes for my three addresses at Bredwardine tomorrow, and wrote letters, among them one to Mrs Bishop, whose husband, the Vicar of Cardington in Shropshire, was killed at the front on May 27th. In the afternoon I worked at the interminable & very dirty job of getting the books into order on the shelves. Also, I read Silvanus Thompson's posthumously published book, "A not–impossible Religion". It is less powerful than I had expected. Lord Stamfordham sent me a civil letter acknowledging a copy of my volume of sermons and Hadow wrote in flatterous terms about it. The episcopal acknowledgements are of the briefest, & most conventional!

I went round the garden with Bateman. There will be practically no apples. The mulberry tree has a good promise of fruit. The potatoes under the trees have a poor look, but elsewhere they seem all right. In the glass–house the tomatoes are beginning to change colour. The Roses are flowering richly. The acacia trees are full of flower. Three white pigeons continue to occupy the dove–cote. Thrushes, blackbirds, starlings, & some finches seem to be fairly numerous. Four years ago one could have taken pleasure in all these things, but now one is half–ashamed to enjoy them. The news from the Front is satisfactory so far as it goes. The Germans are again making a halt. Meanwhile the Americans are steadily pouring into France, & they are reported to be excellent fighters.

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