t happened many times, and it always happened just in that corner of the old garden.

...The sun dazzled the butterflies' wings and called the smell out of the flowers. Everything trembled. When you went in among the mauvy pink flowers and the butterflies you began to tremble too; you seemed to become a part of it - and then what do you think happened? Somebody else was there too. He was on a white horse and he had brought another white horse for me.

We flew round and round in and out among the mauvy-pink blossoms, on the white horses. I never saw the boy; he was there and I knew his name, but who gave it to him or where he came from I did not know. He was different from other boys, you did not have to see him, that was why I liked him so. I never saw the horses either, but I knew that they were there and that they were white.

In and out, round and round we went. Some of the pink flowers were above our heads with bits of blue sky peeping through, and below us was a mass of pink. None of the flowers seemed quite joined to the earth - you only saw their tops, not where they went into the earth.

Everything was going so fast - the butterflies' wings, the pink flowers, the hum and the smell, that they stopped being four things and became one most lovely thing, and the little boy and the white horses and I were in the middle of it, like the seeds that you saw dimly inside the white currants. In fact, the beautiful thing was like the white currants, like a big splendid secret getting clearer and clearer every moment - just a second more and --.

--The Book of Small by Emily Carr.

Restart tour East side

Gallery	Tour	Family	Writing	Current Issues	Team

Sponsored by: Industry Canada
Last updated: 01 August 1997
Produced by: Schoolnet Digital Collections Team
Content provided by: BC Heritage Branch, Province of British Columbia