26 MY GARDEN ACCOUNTED FOR. 



them a half-bushel of rose-buds on some fes- 

 tival occasion. And even the strawberry-bed, 

 that through much of the year I anathematized 

 by mild boyish expletives, became the scene 

 of a joyous thrill of excitement and exultation, 

 as on the last of May we found the first ripe 

 berry and bore it in triumph to mother. Oh, 

 the wonder she would express. "So early! 

 Why, she thought they were scarcely out of 

 blossom yet. She would get better right away, 

 now that she had strawberries." We were in 

 a mood then to weed strawberry-beds forever. 

 What saints we would be if we could only 

 keep up our virtuous and exalted states ! But 

 T m afraid I was impatient over and over again 

 before the autumn weeding was complete. I 

 need not descant on the summer and autumn 

 fiuits that we indulged in ad libitum, nor the 

 luscious melons, revelled in under the shade at 

 noon, and jealously, but often vainly, watched 



