46 A BOOK ABOUT THE GARDEN. 



disgrace. My chief strategy, when, a tiny brigand, I 

 prowled tbe earth for prey, was to enter the kitchen 

 gardens as unconcernedly as possible, and then to 

 call loudly, "Dardner! Dardner! " If he responded 

 I would favour him with one of those spirited com- 

 ments upon the weather in which we English are so 

 happy, even from childhood, or would make inquiries 

 of a most affectionate (and affected) order as to the 

 condition of his bodily health ; and it was, " How do, 

 Dardner ? Fine day, Dardner ! Dud morning, 

 Dardner dear ! " But if there was no respondent in 

 the case, I, the appellant, immediately resolved 

 myself into a Fruit Committee (all articles to be 

 tested by flavour), and proceeded zealously to 

 busines?. 



One dismal day, no reply having been made to my 

 accostals, I had reached the gooseberries, and had 

 taken up my position as a Squatter in (the vicinity 

 of) the Bush, when I suddenly heard with horrible 

 amazement a rustling sound among the scarlet- 

 runners, and like a tiger from the jungle sprang the 

 dreadful Dardner on his prey ! 



How vividly I recall that awful capture ! the 

 tedious procession to the house, which I did my best 

 to enliven with brisk but ineffectual kicks ; the 

 astonished horror of the under-nurse, who im- 

 mediately foretold my speedy translation to a penal 

 settlement, and could not have expressed herself 

 more severely if I had shot the bishop of the diocese ; 

 the trial by Fury, for such the head-nurse seemed to 

 me in her wrath ; the solemn sentence, " Put him to 

 bed ! " Undressed accordingly (I flatter myself that 



