1 82 MY SUMMER IN A GARDEN. 



of choke-cherry pie with the stones all in. It 

 is work, too, that I know by experience I snail 

 have to do alone. Every man must eradicate 

 his own devil-grass. The neighbors who have 

 leisure to help you in grape-picking time are 

 all busy when devil-grass is most aggressive. 

 My neighbors' visits are well timed : it is only 

 their hens which have all seasons for their own. 

 I am told that abundant and rank weeds are 

 signs of a rich soil ; but I have noticed that a 

 thin, poor soil grows little but weeds. I am 

 inclined to think that the substratum is the 

 same, and that the only choice in this world is 

 what kind of weeds you will have. I am not 

 much attracted by the gaunt, flavorless mullein, 

 and the wiry thistle of upland country pastures, 

 where the grass is always gray, as if the world 

 were already weary and sick of life. The awk- 

 ward, uncouth wickedness of remote country- 

 places, where culture has died out after the 



