or him. I fell into Manichean ways of thinking from
the teaching of my garden experiences. Like other boys in the country, I
had my patch of ground, to which, in the spring-time, I entrusted the
seeds furnished me, with a confident trust in their resurrection and
glorification in the better world of summer. But I soon found that my
lines had fallen in a place where a vegetable growth had to run the
gauntlet of as many foes and dials as a Christian pilgrim. Flowers would
not Blow; daffodils perished like criminals in their cone demned caps,
without their petals ever seeing daylight; roses were disfigured with
monstrous protrusions through their very centres,--something that looked
like a second bud pushing through the middle of the corolla; lettuces and
cabbages would not head; radishes knotted themselves until they looked
like centenerians' fingers; and on every stem, on every leaf, and both
sides of it, and at the root of everything that dew, was a professional
specialist in the shape of grub, caterpillar, aphis, or other expert,
whose business it was to devour that particular part, and help order the
whole attempt at vegetation. Such experiences must influence a child
born to them. A sandy soil, where nothing flourishes but weeds and evil
beasts of small dimensions, must breed different qualities in its human
offspring from one of those fat and fertile spots which the wit whom I
have once before noted described so happily that, if I quoted the
passage, its brilliancy would spoil one of my pages, as a diamond
breastpin sometimes kills the social effect of the wearer, who might have
passed for a gentleman without it. Your arid patch of earth should seem
to the natural birthplace of the leaner virtues and the abler vices,--of
temperance and the domestic proprieties on the one hand, with a tendency
to light weights in groceries and provisions, and to clandestine
abstraction from the person on the other, as opposed to the free
hospitality, the broadly planned burglaries, and the largely conceived
homicides of our rich Western alluvial regions. Yet Nature is never
wholly unkind. Economical as she was in my unparadised Eden, hard as it
was to make some of my floral houris unveil, still the damask roses
sweetened the June breezes, the bladed and plumed flower-de-luces
unfolded their close-wrapped cones, and larkspurs and lupins, lady's
delights,--plebeian manifestations of the pansy,--self-sowing marigolds,
hollyhocks,