THE SECOND YEAR. 175 



Our next crop was squashes. We had the earliest 

 squashes in all Flushing. Their broad leaves cov 

 ered the ground and reached up like hands toward 

 heaven; their insinuating runners spread in every 

 direction ; large yellow flowers, into which bumble 

 bees retired for honey till they were out of sight, ap 

 peared innumerably, and at last the creamy, delicate 

 fruit shone through the thick foliage. It was with 

 no little exultation that I handed a fine large ripe 

 one to &quot;Weeville, whose vines were not nearly so for 

 ward. I anticipated his surprise, and watched for its 

 manifestation with interest. He, however, thanked 

 me kindly, but said he never ate squashes. This was 

 simply the effect of envy. He was indignant that 

 his scholar should have been ahead of him, and pre 

 tended he was merely raising a few for the serv 

 ants. The excuse was a palpable evasion, and I did 

 not allow it to depress me, although I must confess 

 that I do not eat squashes myself. Peas are fine, es 

 pecially Daniel O Eourkes, and except dwarfs ; but 

 squashes are a miserably watery vegetable, fit only to 

 feed cattle, who will hardly eat them except always 

 when one raises them one s self, and has the earliest 

 in the neighborhood, then they must be eaten with a 

 relish, and I did my best to keep up appearances. 

 Our cucumbers were a marvel of success. The 



