an to take you away: and it would do no
good if I had; he wouldn't do it. The man has not a taking way. Munch
on, ruminant creature.

The frost will soon come; the grass will be brown. I will be charitable
while this blessed lull continues: for our benevolences must soon be
turned to other and more distant objects,--the amelioration of the
condition of the Jews, the education of theological young men in the
West, and the like.

I do not know that these appearances are deceitful; but I sufficiently
know that this is a wicked world, to be glad that I have taken it on
shares. In fact, I could not pick the pears alone, not to speak of
eating them. When I climb the trees, and throw down the dusky fruit,
Polly catches it in her apron; nearly always, however, letting go when
it drops, the fall is so sudden. The sun gets in her face; and, every
time a pear comes down it is a surprise, like having a tooth out, she
says.

"If I could n't hold an apron better than that!"

But the sentence is not finished: it is useless to finish that sort of a
sentence in this delicious weather. Besides, conversation is dangerous.
As, for instance, towards evening I am preparing a bed for a sowing of
turnips,--not that I like turnips in the least; but this is the season
to sow them. Polly comes out, and extemporizes her usual seat to
"consult me" about matters while I work. I well know that something is
coming.

"This is a rotation of crops, is n't it?"

"Yes: I have rotated the gone-to-seed lettuce off, and expect to rotate
the turnips in; it is a political fashion."

"Is n't it a shame that the tomatoes are all getting ripe at once? What
a lot of squashes! I wish we had an oyster-bed. Do you want me to help
you any more than I am helping?"

"No, I thank you." (I wonder what all this is about?)

"Don't you think we could sell some strawberries next year?"

"By all means, sell anything. We shall no doubt get rich out of this
acre."

"Don't be foolish."

And now!

"Don't you think it would be nice to have a?"....

And Polly unfolds a small scheme of benevolence, which is not quite
enough to break me, and is really to be executed in an economical
manner. "Would n't that be nice?"

"Oh, yes! And where is the money to come from?"

"I thought we had agreed to sell the strawberries."

"Certainly. But I think we would make more money if we sold the plants
now."

"Well," said Polly, concluding the whole matter, "I am going to do