SOME GARDEN VICES 



entire row of my finest delphiniums with one stamp of 

 his foot gad, what a foot! " 



There is another garden criminal whose special prey 

 is his own kind. This is the habitual borrower, the 

 man who is forever coming to get something that he 

 has either lost, neglected to buy, or broken. Persons 

 with this vice have been known actually to snatch the 

 lawn-mower, the spade, or the hose from your very 

 grasp, carting them over to their own place with a 

 mumbled ejaculation that they will return it in " no 

 time." Evidently this division of time never arrives ; 

 at least, if you want your tool, you must go for it to 

 find it lying out in the sun and rain, rusty, forgotten. 

 This sort of man will sit on your back porch and study 

 your catalogues, and growl because you don't subscribe 

 to more. He will ask for slips and plants, hint that 

 his pinks and snapdragons have disappointed him, and 

 demand a bunch of yours " you always have such 

 luck." Neither walls nor hedges will keep this pest 

 out, nor any amount of denial discourage him. Early 

 and late you may hear his " I wonder if you could let 

 me have ," resounding through the violated peace 

 of a garden you can no longer call your own. 



The selfish gardener, he or she who will not pick 

 any of the lovely inhabitants of their beds, is rarer, is 

 few and far between, but does exist. These go along 

 their paths with snub-nosed scissors that clip the dead 

 blossoms but never the living ones. They gloat over 



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