18 A Little Maryland Garden 
one to turn gardener and not fall a-moralising 
like a parson. Given a March morning, a 
windy blue sky, white fleecy clouds blown 
past, the mountains like a distant wall, Mr. 
Robin strutting on the lawn, proud as if he 
had brought it all to pass; and the grass a 
mass of winking suns. What a strong moral 
sense pervades one’s being as he digs up and 
casts away these alluring weeds! What 
beautiful maxims form spontaneously in 
his mind! And what a comfort it is to feel 
that he is out in the soft spring wind and 
sunshine, not from self-indulgence, but ac- 
complishing a duty! 
As I write the snow lies on the ground, 
patchily, not with a good warm covering, 
but like a tattered shawl that lets in the cold. 
I know just where to look for the newcomers 
in the borders when spring calls them out. 
I have put out some crown imperials, flowers 
that I have read of but never seen. I have 
planted both English cottage tulips, and the 
late Darwins, and some little sweet-scented 
Florentines. I love these jewels of colour 
