172 FIVE ACRES TOO MUCH 



were feeble, and barely exhibited that delicate fringe 

 that mature asparagus assumes by contrast to its ear 

 lier state. My disgust can be imagined to plant as 

 paragus and reap turnips, which I never eat, and yet 

 have Patrick inform me that this was &quot; the doing of 

 it 1&quot; To have, in place of the most aristocratic and 

 delicate of vegetables, the most vulgar and indigest 

 ible one ; to have the favorite plant of refined gour 

 mets supplanted by the food of cattle ! I felt as 

 though the only thing &quot; done&quot; was myself. 



Although my return to farming was a little late in 

 the season, I went to work in earnest, undismayed by 

 this deplorable failure, planting every spot that Pat 

 rick had neglected, and, as his memory was not very 

 accurate, occasionally putting a second sowing where 

 he had already planted a different seed. I felt I 

 must make the most of my ground in its present pro 

 ductive condition, a^id filled up every hole and cor 

 ner. The weather was propitious, and every thing 

 grew in grand style. The peas climbed up the bush- 1 

 es that were set round them and out over the top ; 

 the beans went to the summit of their poles, and then 

 waved their heads round in the wind like measuring- 

 worms on the end of a stick ; and the squashes cov 

 ered the ground with enormous leaves. 



The first that came to bearing were our peas 



