MY GARDEN HOW IT GREW. 51 



in a fit of sulks, and the greedy old cormorant 

 planted his " yarbs " somewhere else. Not 

 that I mean to run any close parallel between 

 Ahab and myself, or intimate that my agri- 

 cultural domain was increased by such tragic 

 means as kings and queens have ever been fond 

 of using, but which are not becoming to ordi- 

 nary people. The process by which my garden 

 expanded from the sandy knoll by the parson- 

 age, would not hurt the conscience of a downy 

 chicken. But the reader can well understand 

 that the latter patch of sand and gravel, mostly 

 in deep shade at that, and the yard that I could 

 nearly jump across, was to me like a cage to a 

 wild bird a place where it can only flutter, not 

 fly. And yet even this small area, left entirely 

 to my own care, fared sadly. There were busy 

 days when I could touch no garden tool ; but 

 just at such times the weeds and grass, my nat- 

 ural enemies, saw their opportunity, it would 



