The Garden in Mid-Winter 



we have an uneasy feeling that if every one 

 had his due, those houses would be ours. 

 Manoel, with all his merits, had one serious 

 weakness ; he did not carry his " aguardente " 

 well, and became very quarrelsome in his cups. 

 One Christmas afternoon we were seated quietly 

 in our verandah, when a dishevelled, tear-stained 

 and voluble Manoel appeared to inform us that 

 either he or Silva must die. Now, Silva is our 

 " odd man," and does nine-tenths of the house- 

 work, and we could ill afford to lose him. Our 

 fears were groundless, as next morning I dis- 

 covered the two playing cards amicably together 

 among the bananas. We were willing to over- 

 look a little excess at Christmas time, but 

 Manoel's lapses became too frequent, and he 

 fell. He bears no ill will, and when I meet 

 him in the street, he hopes the master 

 is well, and inquires with respect of the 

 mistress. 



Our next head gardener was of a different 

 type. He really knew a little — a very little — 

 about his work ; unfortunately he thought he 

 knew everything, and generally regarded my 

 proceedings with a sickly toleration. One 

 compliment he did indeed pay me, and I have 



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