164 MY SUMMER IN A GARDEN. 



bluster of early fall, I have put the straw- 

 berries under their coverlet of leaves, pruned 

 the grapevines and laid them under the soil, 

 tied up the tender plants, given the fruit- 

 trees a good, solid meal about the roots ; 

 and so I turn away, writing Resurgam on 

 the gatepost. And Calvin, aware that the 

 summer is past and the harvest is ended, 

 and that a mouse in the kitchen is worth 

 two birds gone south, scampers away to the 

 house with his tail in the air. 



And yet I am not perfectly at rest in my 

 mind. I know that this is only a truce 

 until the parties recover their exhausted 

 energies. All winter long the forces of 

 chemistry will be mustering under ground, 

 repairing the losses, calling up the reserves, 

 getting new strength from my surface-ferti- 

 lizing bounty, and making ready for the 

 spring campaign. They will open it be- 

 fore I am ready : while the snow is scarcely 

 melted, and the ground is not passable, 

 they will begin to move on my works and 

 the fight will commence. Yet how deceit- 



