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Everywhere he observed the struggle between the native plants which were moving back into the gardens； and the exotics which once had been planted there and carefully tended。
He looked closely at these overgrown gardens； thus to take his mind off worse things。 He tried to discover what plants were no longer in existence。 He saw no wisteria or camellia or coprosma though they had once been mon。 But the tall climbing rose…vines were still vigorous。 A large and handsome evergreen tree he recognized as a deodar； native to the Himalayas。 It was still growing vigorously； but looking beneath it； he found no seedlings。 Apparently it could live there； but would not reproduce。 On the other hand beneath a eucalyptus tree； a species native to Australia； he found seedlings which had sprouted up through the litter of leaves in which nothing else would grow。
ing to the campus； he passed first through a grove of Italian stone…pines。 Here； everything looked less confused than it had in the gardens along the street； because the pines had spread and formed a canopy beneath which little grass grew。 The effect was still park…like。
Near one of the trees he saw a large rattlesnake lying in the sunshine。 It seemed torpid； not yet quite revived from the chill of the night。 He could easily kill it。 He hesitated a moment； but went on。
No…he had once been bitten and still remembered something of that horror。 But he held no enmity to the whole tribe of rattlesnakes。 In fact； that bite had possibly saved his life。 Perhaps； rather than being hostile； he should be grateful； and form a rattlesnake clan around that totem。 No； not that either。 He would be neutral。
Then he realized that this attitude of his applied to more than just rattlesnakes。 He had noticed it in the younger people also。 In the times of civilization men had really felt themselves as the masters of creation。 Everything had been good or bad in relation to man。 So you killed rattlesnakes。 But now nature had bee so overwhelming that any attempt at its control was merely outside anyone's circle of thought。 You lived as part of it； not as its dominating power。 To bother with killing one rattlesnake was foolish； because you had no chance of exterritinating them or even of appreciably changing their number。 If one of them came near the houses； you killed it of course； to protect the children。 But you did not go crusading against rattlesnakes； any more than you did against mountain…lions。
He passed on； went down an almost overgrown stone stairway； and crossed a wooden bridge。 He felt it shaky with rot beneath his feet。 It had been an old bridge； he remembered； even when he was a boy。 Along the stream the thicket was dense； and he had to push his way through； although underfoot he felt that he was still on an asphalt walk。
He heard a rustle somewhere in the thicket； and for a moment was nervous to be without a weapon。 It might be a mountain…lion。 Wolves or wild dogs also were likely to haunt these thickety stream…courses。
But as he burst through into the open again； he saw only some deer loping off through the trees。
High on his left； now； rose up one of the University buildings。 He could not remember what department had been housed there。 The shrubbery； which once had been kept neatly trimmed； had now grown up high and shaggy； masking the lower windows。
He went on toward his goal。 It was only a little way ahead； now。 He burst through another thicket； and saw the great Library building。
He looked。 This building also was half masked by the shrubbery。 One window was broken； apparently because the branch of a pine tree had grown out across it； and then slapped back and forth in some high wind。 That accident had happened since he had last been here； several years back。 He kept the University Library as a reserve for the future。 He had even taught the children to respect it。 Yes； he had even； he was afraid； put a kind of taboo upon it。 In fact； not only here but everywhere； he had always tried to impress the children with an almost mystical value of books。 Still he kept the symbol of the burning of the books as one of the worst things that men could do。
He circled the Library； here and there having difficulty in breaking his way through bushes。 Once he had to crawl over the fallen trunk of a pine tree。 The building； as far as he could see； was still in sound condition。 He came at last to the window which he had broken many years before； and then boarded up。 With the hammer he began to knock off a board。 He was careful not to break the board； so that he could replace it。 After all； he realized with pleasure； there had been a rational background for his bringing the hammer along with him。
Having knocked off the board； he was able to climb through into the building。 Now he recalled the first time that he had gained entrance through the window。 He had e when Em had told him she was going to have a baby； and he had been hunting for books on obstetrics。 All that had seemed a tremendous problem at the time； and yet it had solved itself without difficulty。 Why could he never learn to worry less about problems？ Problems not infrequently solved themselves。
He went on through the hall； and found the old door into the stacks。 Things were not as clean as they might be。 In spite of his precautions； bats had apparently found their way into the building； perhaps through the recently broken window。 There was also the litter of some kind of rodent。 But the droppings had done no damage to the books。 He put out a finger； rubbed the tops of some books； and brought it away dusty。 That was natural； and there was not even a very surprising amount of dust。
Yes； they were all still there…well over a million volumes； almost all the accumulated learning of the world still safe within these four wals。 He felt a sudden sense of security and safety and hope。 He gloated； like a miser。
He went down one flight of the little circular stairway； and headed toward the part of the library； the geography section； which as a graduate student he had known best。 He came to the familiar alcoves； and in spite of all the years he felt a sense of having e home。 Looking at the shelves； he began to spot books which he had read and studied。
One； in particular； caught his attention； a well…worn volume； rebound in red buckram。 He stretched out a hand； took it from the shelf； and blew the dust from its top。 Looking at his find； he saw the name Brooks and the title。 Climate through the Ages。 He remembered the book。 Opening it； he saw the card； and noticed that the last borrower of the book…the date only a month before the Great Disaster…had been someone named with the unusual name of Isherwood Williams。 Only after a few seconds did he realize that he himself was Isherwood Williams。 Nobody had called him by his full name for many years。 Now he could actually remember that he had been reading this book during his last semester。 It was a good book and interesting； although largely superseded； he curiously found himself remembering； by the later studies of…well； someone with a German name…Zeimer； perhaps。
He laid the hammer down； so as to have both hands fo