“There were the fruits whose delicious flavour he knew:  now he found that some of them at least had a fragrant smell.  However, he scarcely noticed them; for a strange, sweet odour of flowers greeted his newly-found sense.  After awhile he felt almost overpowered by this fresh pleasure, and turned to go back for awhile into his little room, when he found that this door had also vanished.  He was glad of this, for the delicate perfume of the garden freely came into his cell.

“What a growing pleasure was this garden!  Every flower had its own special odour—­the rich rose, the tall, queenly lily, and the lowly violet—­each in its way the sweetest.

“At first he thought that only the flowers had perfume, but he soon found this was a mistake.  By taking more careful notice he perceived that leaves as well as flowers were sometimes scented, as in the musk plant, the geranium, and even those of black-currant bushes.

“As he walked down an avenue of lime trees, he noticed a most delicious scent, which he found came from the small blossoms of the trees high above his head.  He turned into a shrubbery, and was greeted by the fresh fragrance of the pine trees, and found that even the resinous buds of other trees had a pleasant scent.  The very earth too, after a shower of rain, had a refreshing smell.

“By-and-by he looked at the high walls of the garden, for there seemed to float over them a blended sweetness of something, he knew not what; but in after days he knew it as that of new-mown hay.

“Again, the wind would bring him a smell of something that certainly did not belong to flowers or fruit.  It seemed to make him strong, and long to know what was over the wall.  It was the sea-breeze that came to him from the vast ocean, and made him feel that his lovely garden was, after all, too bounded.

“He turned the handle of another door.  It was that of touch, and he found himself in a passage.  He walked along a little way, and saw an open archway on his right, through which he went, and there he was in the room of taste.  He took up a cherry, and it felt smooth; a peach, and it felt soft and downy; a pine-apple, and it was rough.  He looked toward the archway through which he had come, when, behold! the whole passage wall had vanished, making the old room larger.

“He went into his garden:  the gravel path felt hard and firm, the lawn felt soft and springy under his tread.  He touched a rose-stalk and he felt its prickles, while the leaves of the flowers were soft.  Some flower-stalks felt sticky, others smooth, and the bark of the oak tree was rough.

“The bright sunshine felt warm to his cheek, and the marble of the fountain felt cold.

“There were now two large doors left, and he resolved to open that of hearing.