MY SUMMER IN A GARDEN. 17 



growth. She is at it early and late, and 

 all night ; never tiring, nor showing the 

 least sign of exhaustion. 



&quot; Eternal . gardening is the price of 

 liberty/ is a motto that I should put 

 over the gateway of my garden, if I 

 had a gate. And yet it is not wholly 

 true ; for there is no liberty in gar 

 dening. The man who undertakes a 

 garden is relentlessly pursued. He 

 felicitates himself, that, when he gets it 

 once planted, he will have a season of 

 rest and of enjoyment in the sprouting 

 and growing of his seeds. It is a green 

 anticipation. He has planted a seed 

 that will keep him awake nights ; drive 

 rest from his bones, and sleep from his 

 pillow. Hardly is the garden planted, 

 when he must begin to hoe it. The 

 weeds have sprung up all 6ver it in 

 a night. They shine and wave in 

 redundant life. The docks have almost 



