A GARDEN DIARY a7 
pursued, it tends to grow upon its votary, until 
everything else becomes subsidiary. What was 
originally a virtue, may thus in time come near 
to growing into a vice. Of this danger I am 
myself a proof. There have been moments— 
not many, nevertheless some—when I have found 
myself sighing for more weeds to conquer. Worse, 
I have had the greatest difficulty on more than 
one occasion to keep myself from pouncing upon 
my neighbour’s perfectly private chickweeds and 
groundsels, which I have happened to catch 
sight of across a fence! 
I notice in myself, and have observed in 
others, a lamentable lack of accuracy as regards 
the proper names of weeds. Even some that I 
know the best, and hate the hardest, I really 
cannot put any name to. Now this is not as 
it should be. Everything, however detestable, 
has a name of its own, and that name ought 
to be used. You may not like a man, but that 
is hardly a reason for calling him ‘‘ What’s-his- 
name,” or ‘‘Thingamy.” It is true that in the 
West of Ireland it is regarded as a very unsafe 
thing to mention any of the more malignant 
powers by their right names. The SzdZ, for 
instance, if spoken of by their proper title, in- 
variably fly at you, and do you a mischief. The 
only way of avoiding this peril is to use some 
obscure and roundabout designation, which is 
not their real name at all. I do not know 
