MY SUMMER IN A GARDEN. 159 



tiling extraordinary. The next year, 

 the little tree blossoms full, and sets 

 well ; and in the autumn has on its slen 

 der, drooping limbs half a bushel of 

 fruit, daily growing more delicious in the 

 sun. You show it to your friends, read 

 ing to them the French name, which you 

 can never remember, on the label ; and 

 you take an honest pride in the success 

 ful fruit of long care. That night your 

 pears shall be required of you by a boy ! 

 Along comes an irresponsible urchin, 

 who has not been growing much longer 

 than the tree, with not twenty -five cents 

 worth of clothing on him, and in five 

 minutes takes off every pear, and retires 

 into safe obscurity. In five minutes, the 

 remorseless boy has undone your work 

 of years, and with the easy nonchalance, 

 I doubt not, of any agent of fate, in 

 whose path nothing is sacred or safe. 

 And it is not of much consequence. 



