WHAT I KNOW ABOUT GARDENING. 31 



'* Eternal gardening is the price of liberty," is 

 a motto that I should put over the gateway of 

 my garden, if I had a gate. And yet it is not 

 wholly true ; for there is no liberty in gardening. 

 The man who undertakes a garden is relentlessly 

 pursued. He felicitates himself that, when he 

 gets it once planted, he will have a season of rest 

 and of enjoyment in the sprouting and growing 

 of his seeds. It is a green anticipation. He 

 has planted a seed that will keep him awake 

 nights ; drive rest from his bones, and sleep 

 from his pillow. Hardly is the garden planted, 

 when he must begin to hoe it. The weeds 

 have sprung up all over it in a night. They 

 shine and wave in redundant life. The docks 

 have almost gone to seed ; and their roots go 

 deeper than conscience. Talk about the Lon- 

 don Docks ! the roots of these are like the 

 sources of the Aryan race. And the weeds are 

 not all. I awake in the morning (and a thriving 



