Too Muck of a Good Tkimg 219 



nursing his thoughts; and the villagers were 

 quite content to see him doing this, for, as one 

 of them expressed it to Joseph Bates, "he do 

 make a better scarecrow than all the old hats 

 and bonnets in the place." So the Poet, with 

 his white terrier at his heels (he kept no cat, I 

 need hardly say), was all unknown to himself 

 doing a work of grace for his neighbours. 



He noticed, in these perambulations, that the 

 birds now sang less frequently and heartily ; but 

 then there were more of them than ever, for the 

 young ones were now all about the garden, and 

 had grown so bold and tame that they would 

 hardly get out of the Poet's way as he moved 

 gently along his paths. He loved them all, 

 and thought of them almost as his own children ; 

 and no shadow of a foreboding crossed his mind 

 that they, born in his garden, reared under his 

 protection, could ever vex the even flow of his 

 happiness. 



One fine evening, just as the strawberries were 

 ripening, the Member of the S.P.E.B. arrived 

 on his visit. It was agreed that they should 

 open the strawberry season next morning after 



