FIFTH WEEK. 



LEFT my garden for a week, just at the 

 close of the dry spell. A season of rain 

 immediately set in, and when I returned 

 the transformation was wonderful. In one week 

 every vegetable had fairly jumped forward. The 

 tomatoes which I left slender plants, eaten of 

 bugs and debating whether they would go back 

 ward or forward, had become stout and lusty, 

 with thick stems and dark leaves, and some of 

 them had blossomed. The corn waved like that 

 which grows so rank out of the French-English 

 mixture at Waterloo. The squashes I will not 

 speak of the squashes. The most remarkable 

 growth was the asparagus. There was not a 



