120 FIVE ACKES TOO MUCH. 



It rained at last ; vegetation started in every direc 

 tion except where I supposed my seeds were ; weeds 

 spread over the beds, came up in the walks, and ex 

 hibited great luxuriance. I watched my garden anx 

 iously, visiting it early and late ; dreadful were my 

 doubts and fears ; but at last a circle of beautiful 

 delicate green began to show itself, not exactly in 

 the place I expected, but not far off. My delight 

 was unbounded. I watched that circle like a mother 

 would watch a sick child. I hung over it and tended 

 it with most assiduous care. If the sun shone two 

 days in succession, I watered it ; if it rained too hard, 

 I sheltered it. My triumph over Weeville was to be 

 complete ; it is true that only one out of the numer 

 ous varieties that were planted had appeared, but it 

 would not be necessary to refer to the others. 



That green circle grew slowly. The tiny leaves, 

 in spite of the great care bestowed upon them, seemed 

 to be feeble ; their thin, pale stalks were hardly able 

 to support their weight; the slightest rain threatened 

 to wash them away, and a few hours of sunlight to 

 scorch them up. I nursed them carefully through 

 their infantile diseases ; and when they were fairly 

 past danger and presented a circle of unbroken 

 green, I invited Weeville out to inspect my garden. 

 &quot; Bare enough,&quot; he said sarcastically, as he passed 



