MY SUMMER IN A GARDEN. 85 







The market-man shows me his peas and 

 beets and tomatoes, and supposes he 

 shall send me out some with the meat. 

 &quot; No, I thank you/ I say carelessly : &quot; I 

 am raising my own this year.&quot; Whereas 

 I have been wont to remark, &quot; Your ve 

 getables look a little wilted this wea 

 ther,&quot; I now say, &quot; What a fine lot of 

 vegetables you ? ve got ! &quot; When a man 

 is not going to buy, he can afford to be 

 generous. To raise his own vegetables 

 makes a person feel, somehow, more lib 

 eral. I think the butcher is touched by 

 the influence, and cuts off a better roast 

 for me. The butcher is my friend when 

 he sees that I am not wholly dependent 

 on him. 



It is at home, however, that the effect 

 is most marked, though sometimes in a 

 way that I had not expected. I have 

 never read of any Roman supper that 

 seemed to me equal to a dinner of my 



