124 MY SUMMER IN A GARDEN. 



den could not have been better seen to; 

 though it would take a sharp eye to see the 

 potato-vines amid the rampant grass and 

 weeds. 



The new strawberry-plants, for one thing, 

 had taken advantage of my absence. 

 Every one of them had sent out as many 

 scarlet runners as an Indian tribe has. 

 Some of them had blossomed; and a few 

 had gone so far as to bear ripe berries, 

 long, pear-shaped fruit, hanging like the 

 ear-pendants of an East Indian bride. I 

 could not but admire the persistence of these 

 zealous plants, which seemed determined to 

 propagate themselves both by seeds and 

 roots, and make sure of immortality in some 

 way. Even the Colfax variety was as am- 

 bitious as the others. After having seen 

 the declining letter of Mr. Colfax, I did 

 not suppose that this vine would run any 

 more, and intended to root it out. But one 

 can never say what these politicians mean ; 

 and I shall let this variety grow until after 

 the next election, at least ; although I hear 



