WOODRUSH. 113 



and we see the collection some fine morning lying in 

 the horse-road, that I am persuaded it is a common 

 trick, and that many a dishonest sixpence is turned 

 in this way. A good many years ago, a fellow in a 

 smockfrock came to my garden-gate in May, when I 

 was tidying up the beds, and offered me a couple of 

 roots of something of which he said he did not know 

 the name, " but it bore a beautiful pink flower at 

 Christmas." I did not know the plant ; I was young 

 in gardening (it was a good many years ago), and 

 rather admired the look of the leaf-tufts. I strongly 

 doubted his story all the time, but he was profuse in 

 his praises of the flower, and told me I should have 

 them for sixpence ; and so I invested that amount of 

 capital in the enterprise. The fellow looked about, 

 and said, " He could see that master was a good gar- 

 dener." My old mother, who thought no great things 

 of my talent in that line, averred that the man's flat- 

 tery had something to do with the purchase ; but I 

 declare to you that it had not. However, I watched 

 the plants till Christmas had passed ; but no sign of 

 shoot or flower-stalk was sent up ; and one morning 

 they disappeared, not to lie in the horse-road, but 

 quietly put away, decently buried beneath the ash- 

 heap, without any dirge. 



How you would admire the little pictures that 

 present themselves at every turn ! Here is a scene, 

 as I sit on this mossy bank, and look over the hedge 

 before me. This nearest field, with the wheat in 



blade, and that next to it, in grass, and almost ready 



H 



