MY GARDEN ACCOUNTED FOR. 2^ 



over by night lest the factory urchins should 

 make love to them also. Suffice it to say that 

 taking the sweet with the bitter, as ever must 

 be done in this world, the sweet predominated, 

 and the garden gradually and surely took its 

 place in that warm corner of the heart that we 

 reserve for the things we love. 



And even now the sweetest play spell of my 

 middle age is to go back to the old place with 

 its dear memories and associations, and spend a 

 few hours with my honored father in the scene 

 of boyish labors. I usually find him among 

 his flowers and vegetables, armed with his hoe 

 and rake, and it ever seems that he has found in 

 his garden what Adam lost in his peace and 

 happiness. At the sound of my approaching 

 footsteps he pushes back his broad-brimmed 

 hat and spectacles, and on recognition greets 

 me with a kiss as when I was a little boy, and 1 

 am at home. 



