CLOSING WORDS. 373 



As a part of this book appeared as a serial in " Scribner's 

 Magazine," I was encouraged by words of approval from 

 many of the best horticultural authorities. I shall not deny 

 that I was very glad to receive such favorable opinions, for 

 I had much and just doubt of my ability to satisfy those 

 who have made these subjects a life-long study, and to 

 whom, in fact, I am largely indebted for the Httle I do 

 know. Still more am I pleased by assurances that I have 

 turned the thoughts of many toward the garden, — a place 

 that is naturally, and, I think, correctly, associated with 

 man's primal and happiest condition. We must recognize, 

 however, the sad change in the gardening as well as garden- 

 ers of our degenerate world. In worm and insect, blight 

 and mildew, in heat, frost, drought and storm, in weeds so 

 innumerable that we are tempted to beheve that Nature 

 has a leaning toward total depravity, we have much to con- 

 tend with ; and in the ignorant, careless, and often dishonest 

 laborer, who slashes away at random, we find our chief obsta- 

 cle to success. In spite of all these drawbacks, the work of 

 the garden is the play and pleasure that never palls, and 

 which the oldest and v/isest never outgrow. 



I have delayed my departure too long, and, since I can- 

 not place a basket of President Wilder Strawberries on the 

 tables of my readers, I will leave with them the best pos- 

 sible substitute, the exquisite poem of H. H. : — 



MY STRAWBERRY. 



O MARVEL, fruit of fruits, I pause 



To reckon thee. I ask what cause 



Set free so much of red from heats 



At core of earth, and mixed such sweets 



With sour and spice ; what was that strength 



Which, out of darkness, length by length, 



