52 MY SUMMER IN A GARDEN. 



SEVENTH WEEK. 



A GARDEN is an awful responsibil- 

 --*- ity. You never know what you 

 may be aiding to grow in it. I heard a 

 sermon, not long ago, in which the 

 preacher said that the Christian, at the 

 moment of his becoming one, was as 

 perfect a Christian as he would be if he 

 grew to be an archangel; that is, that 

 he would not change thereafter at all, 

 but only develop. I do not know 

 whether this is good theology, or not ; 

 and I hesitate to support it by an illus 

 tration from my garden, especially as I 

 do not want to run the risk of propa 

 gating error, and I do not care to give 

 away these theological comparisons to 

 clergymen who make me so little return 



