ised again. I recall another
time--

But this is not a snake story. I told Westbury that I could bind as well
as ever, and would give them an exhibition of a few rounds. But it was
impressively hot and at about the third bundle I remembered an important
memorandum I wanted to make, and excused myself. It was quite pleasant
in my study, and I kept on making memorandums until by and by Westbury
sent the Hope to tell me that they'd like me to come out and give the
rest of the exhibition. It was not very considerate of Westbury when I
was busy that way, and I ignored his suggestion.

We did not go in for selling seed rye, as I had once contemplated, but I
think we might have done so if there had been a demand. Westbury and
the men put it into the barn, and later flailed it out on the barn
floor, after the manner of Abraham and Boaz and Bildad the Shuhite,
beating the flails in time and singing a song that Bildad himself
composed. Who would have a dusty, roaring thrashing-machine when one can
listen to the beating flails and be back with Boaz and Bildad in the
days when the world was new?

* * * * *

Just a word more of our vegetable experiments. For one thing, our
asparagus-bed thrived. Those hot mornings I put in paid the biggest
return of any early-morning investment I ever made. Each year it came
better and better--in May and June we could not keep up with it and
shared it with our neighbors. The farm-dweller who does not plant an
asparagus-bed as quickly as he can get the ground ready, and the plants
for it, makes a grave mistake.

Perhaps I ought to record here that our sweet-potatoes were a success.
We were told that they would not grow in New England, but they grew for
us and were sweet and plentiful.

The waning of the year in a garden is almost the best of it, I think.
Spring with its thrill of promise, summer with its fulfilment--meager or
abundant, according to the season--are over. Then comes September and
October, the season of cool, even brisk, mornings and mellow afternoons.
It is remnant-day in the garden, the time to take a basket and go
bargain-hunting on the "as is" counter. Where the carrots have been
gathered there are always a few to be found, if one looks carefully, and
in the melon-patch there is sure to be one or two that still hold the
bouquet of summer, with something added that has come with the first
spicy mornings of fall. Also, if one is lucky, he will fin