rove by his figures how much it was they
were earning. I think he made it out about a thousand dollars a year;
but as his previous calculations touching our own crop had proved rather
deceptive, I did not trust implicitly to his conclusions. But he
insisted that it must be so, as figures never lied. I suggested, that,
though the figures themselves might not lie, yet that instances had been
known of their leading to great lies by others,--not meaning, however,
to refer to him.

These were among the new changes of the old topic that now formed the
staple of our family discussions. As we had done pretty well with a
half-acre, we must have more ground planted. It may appear singular that
so small a profit, realized only after a whole year of waiting, should
prove so powerful a stimulus to further effort. But I well knew that
wealth is not suddenly acquired by agriculture of any kind. The great
element of value which distinguishes this over other occupations is that
of safety,--slow, but sure. If our profit should appear small to others,
it was a great affair to us, and we felt reasonably certain that we
could make it four times as large. It was therefore determined to have
the remaining half-acre broken up and set out with strawberries that
fall.

But no one must suppose that our summer occupation was ended when our
crop had been marketed and the profit ascertained. All this was
accomplished as July was coming in. Immediately after the vines had
borne their fruit, they developed new energies in the putting out of a
multitude of runners. But meantime the ground had been taken possession
of by a fresh crop of weeds, all of which must be removed, and the
surface forked up into mellowness, before the runners would take hold
and establish themselves into strong, vigorous plants. We therefore
entered on a new campaign against these troublesome interlopers, though
our hoes were so heavy and clumsy that their unwieldiness fatigued us
more than the work itself.

"There goes ten thousand at a pull!" said I to Fred, one day, as he
caught hold of a huge thistle with his rake and dragged it out by the
roots.

Fred was astounded at this piece of information. He had seen weeds in
abundance, but had never gone over the pages of the "Country Gentleman"
and the "New England Farmer" as carefully as I had, and hence the
thought had never occurred to him that in pulling up a single thistle he
was really saving some one else the trouble of