not easy for a man of his years to tumble gracefully into love, for
those romantic impulses, my son, are associated more with
irresponsible youth and are apt to be called by rather an ugly name
when they occur in advanced years. But Caesar fell in love with the
lady you see in the picture, whose name was Cleopatra and who was one
of the greatest man-eaters that ever came out of Egypt. She had a
weakness for big strong men, and although certain authorities have
claimed that she was a small and hairy person with a very uncertain
temper, she undoubtedly set a very good table and made her gentlemen
friends very comfortable, for Caesar stayed feasting and forgetting
himself for nearly a year with her. It must have been very pleasant,
for Caesar loved power, and intended to be one of the big men of his
time. But the lady also loved power, and was undoubtedly glad to see
that she could make Caesar forget about going home, though it was too
bad that he forgot, for always, even after he had lived to write about
all the great things he had done in the world, people remembered more
about his rather absurd infatuation for the lady than about all the
battles he had won and all the prizes he had captured. And the lady,
of course----"

But I was interrupted at this point. And it was by Dinky-Dunk.

"Oh, hell!" he said as he flung down his paper and strode out into the
other room. And those exits, I remembered, were getting to be a bit of
a habit with my harried old Diddums.

_Sunday the Fifth_

The Day of Rest seems to be the only day left to me now for my
writing. There are no idlers in the neighborhood of Casa Grande. The
days are becoming incredibly long, but they still seem over-short for
all there is to do. The men are much too busy on the land to give
material thought to any thing so womanish as a kitchen-garden. So I
have my own garden to see to. And sometimes I work there until I'm
almost ready to drop. On a couple of nights, recently, when it came
watering-time, even these endless evenings had slipped into such
darkness that I could scarcely see the plants I was so laboriously
irrigating by hand. It wasn't until the water turned the soil black
that the growing green stood pallidly out against the mothering dark
earth.... But it is delightful work. I really love it. And I love to
see things growing. After the bringing up of a family, the bringing up
of a garden surely comes next.

Yet too much work, I find, can