it." And, having thus "consulted" me, Polly goes away; and I put in the
turnip-seeds quite thick, determined to raise enough to sell. But not
even this mercenary thought can ruffle my mind as I rake off the loamy
bed. I notice, however, that the spring smell has gone out of the dirt.
That went into the first crop.

In this peaceful unison with yielding nature, I was a little taken
aback to find that a new enemy had turned up. The celery had just rubbed
through the fiery scorching of the drought, and stood a faint chance
to grow; when I noticed on the green leaves a big green-and-black worm,
called, I believe, the celery-worm: but I don't know who called him; I
am sure I did not. It was almost ludicrous that he should turn up here,
just at the end of the season, when I supposed that my war with the
living animals was over. Yet he was, no doubt, predestinated; for he
went to work as cheerfully as if he had arrived in June, when everything
was fresh and vigorous. It beats me--Nature does. I doubt not, that,
if I were to leave my garden now for a week, it would n't know me on my
return. The patch I scratched over for the turnips, and left as clean as
earth, is already full of ambitious "pusley," which grows with all the
confidence of youth and the skill of old age. It beats the serpent as an
emblem of immortality. While all the others of us in the garden rest and
sit in comfort a moment, upon the summit of the summer, it is as rampant
and vicious as ever. It accepts no armistice.

FIFTEENTH WEEK

It is said that absence conquers all things, love included; but it has a
contrary effect on a garden. I was absent for two or three weeks. I left
my garden a paradise, as paradises go in this protoplastic world; and
when I returned, the trail of the serpent was over it all, so to speak.
(This is in addition to the actual snakes in it, which are large enough
to strangle children of average size.) I asked Polly if she had seen to
the garden while I was away, and she said she had. I found that all the
melons had been seen to, and the early grapes and pears. The green worm
had also seen to about half the celery; and a large flock of apparently
perfectly domesticated chickens were roaming over the ground, gossiping
in the hot September sun, and picking up any odd trifle that might
be left. On the whole, the garden could not have been better seen
to; though it would take a sharp eye to see the potato-vines amid the
rampant grass