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It rained at last; vegetation started in every direction except where I supposed my seeds were; weeds spread over the beds, came up in the walks, and exhibited great luxuriance. I watched my garden anxiously, visiting it early and late; dreadful were my doubts and fears; but at last a circle of beautiful delicate green began to show itself, not exactly in the place I expected, but not far off. My delight was unbounded. I watched that circle like a mother would watch a sick child. I hung over it and tended it with most assiduous care. If the sun shone two days in succession, I watered it; if it rained too hard, I sheltered it. My triumph over Weeville was to be complete; it is true that only one out of the numerous varieties that were planted had appeared, but it would not be necessary to refer to the others.

That green circle grew slowly. The tiny leaves, in spite of the great care bestowed upon them, seemed to be feeble; their thin, pale stalks were hardly able to support their weight; the slightest rain threatened to wash them away, and a few hours of sunlight to scorch them up. I nursed them carefully through their infantile diseases; and when they were fairly past danger and presented a circle of unbroken green, I invited Weeville out to inspect my garden.

"Bare enough,” he said sarcastically, as he passed

down the main path; "plenty of walks and weeds, but no flowers this year."

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"Wait till you see," was my triumphant answer.

"I can see pretty well now," he replied; "there is certainly nothing to obstruct the view. I have a fine prospect of muddy walks and absurdly-shaped beds. You will learn to be practical before you are through. Another year or two will take the city nonsense out of you, and teach you some valuable lessons.”

He was going on with his egotistical homilies, when I stopped him in front of my infant plants. "Look at that!" I said, exultingly, grasping his arm and facing him toward the bed.

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"Look at what?" he repeated, staring stupidly

about.

"At those plants. Are they not promising? I intend to separate and transplant them: there will be abundance to stock half my garden. Rather better than raising egg-plants, eh? We city boys know a few things, after all. What do you think of those little beauties ?"

"What on earth-or, more properly speaking, in the earth-are you talking about? I don't see any plants, or beauties either.”

"Not see any plants!" I replied, laughing at his ignorance. "Perhaps you can not tell plants when

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you do see them: you must study Bridgeman. These, sir, are the beautiful columbine aquilegia formosa, the most lovely ornaments of the refined and elegant parterre."

I did not know what they were, as the stick was gone; but this was the only name I could recall at the moment.

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May I ask,” he replied, solemnly, "whether you are joking or crazy? If the former, it is too damp here to make it worth while to continue the entertainment; if the latter, the lunatic asylum is close by. What is it you are talking about?"

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'Why, those aquilegia formosas, that beautiful circlet of exquisite green that I planted a month ago, and which assiduous care has finally brought to its present vigorous condition," I rejoined, smiling proudly, although my mind somewhat misgave me as to the vigorous health; "that fertile hot-bed of fragrant beauty, that will furnish the groundwork, with skillful increase, for my entire garden."

"What!" he demanded, in a surprised tone; "is that what you are talking of ?"

"Yes," I replied, a little confused, but confident still.

"That your beautiful circlet of exquisite green which is to fecundate your entire garden!" At this

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point he commenced laughing, and, between shouts of merriment and the half-intelligible repetition of exquisite green," it was ten minutes before he became comprehensible. "Why, that circlet of exquisite green-" here he burst out again till he nearly choked — " exquisite green is nothing but a lot of wild carrots, that you have watered till you have washed all the life out of them."

Alas! this turned out to be true. What became of my seeds I never discovered; whether they were drowned out, or burnt up, or raked away, is hard to tell; certain it is that they have not come up to the present time. But the greatest mystery is, why should wild carrots grow in a circle merely to arouse hopes that were to be blasted?

CHAPTER VII.

POULTRY.

I HAVE a respect for chickens. The hens have

the finest qualities of the most exemplary mothers; the cocks possess many of the characteristics, in courage and devotion to "the sex," of the cavaliers of olden time. Behold the anxious matron ruffling her feathers and expanding her wings in threatening defiance of the approaching stranger, or gathering the little ones under her breast, and exposing her own person to the swooping hawk. Observe the fierceeyed rooster guarding his mates with zealous care, ever ready to meet in deadly conflict the rival or intruder, but invariably calling his wives to accept any unusual luxury of fat grub or dainty bug. To be sure, they rise early, which the uncultivated regard as a virtue, and make much noise when they wake, crowing at most unseasonable hours; but as for the absurd charges that the prejudiced author of "Ten Acres Enough" brings against them in wholesale condemnation, these are not worth answering.

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