258 MY GARDEN 



and knew the rubbish heap, but now the order is re- 

 versed and they all stay in, natives and foreigners tower- 

 ing together, and it is better so. There are those who 

 hint that Jonas' "castiron back" lacks the hinge of con- 

 centrated endeavour, and perhaps this, too, is fortunate, 

 for, while I like to talk of discernment, it may be that 

 when Jonas leans upon his hoe and his gaze sinks deep 

 into the green of the mountain, or intently follows the 

 sweeping flight of some broad-winged bird 'tis then my 

 little outlaws get their innings the wise-faced Pansies 

 in the path nudge each other and grow apace, and the 

 wanton Poppy-person in the grass spreads out her 

 silken skirts and rocks for glee. 



But we have not yet come to trouble, and it is a 

 serious matter, not to be lightly treated. Well, weeds, 

 of course, are the most persistent of our troubles; but, 

 after all, what is a weed ? They appear to have different 

 meanings for different minds . Wordsworth defines them 

 as "flowers out of place," the ever-kindly Emerson 

 thought "a weed is a poor creature whose virtues have 

 not yet been discovered." Thoreau wrote: "Flowers 

 must not be too profuse and obtrusive, else they acquire 

 the reputation of weeds," and Shakespeare had no 

 patience with weeds and wrote vindictively of their 

 sinning. I have a fine book published by the Canadian 

 Government upon the subject of weeds, which gives 

 what seems to me a fair definition: "Any injurious, 

 troublesome, or unsightly plant that is, at the same time, 



