I have no idea
that I have hit the right one. Must I subscribe to all the magazines and
weekly papers which offer premiums of the best vines? Oh, that all
the strawberries were rolled into one, that I could inclose all its
lusciousness in one bite! Oh for the good old days when a strawberry
was a strawberry, and there was no perplexity about it! There are more
berries now than churches; and no one knows what to believe. I have seen
gardens which were all experiment, given over to every new thing, and
which produced little or nothing to the owners, except the pleasure of
expectation. People grow pear-trees at great expense of time and money,
which never yield them more than four pears to the tree. The fashions
of ladies' bonnets are nothing to the fashions of nurserymen. He who
attempts to follow them has a business for life; but his life may be
short. If I enter upon this wide field of horticultural experiment,
I shall leave peace behind; and I may expect the ground to open, and
swallow me and all my fortune. May Heaven keep me to the old roots and
herbs of my forefathers! Perhaps in the world of modern reforms this is
not possible; but I intend now to cultivate only the standard things,
and learn to talk knowingly of the rest. Of course, one must keep up
a reputation. I have seen people greatly enjoy themselves, and elevate
themselves in their own esteem, in a wise and critical talk about all
the choice wines, while they were sipping a decoction, the original cost
of which bore no relation to the price of grapes.

NINETEENTH WEEK

The closing scenes are not necessarily funereal. A garden should be
got ready for winter as well as for summer. When one goes into
winter-quarters, he wants everything neat and trim. Expecting high
winds, we bring everything into close reef. Some men there are who never
shave (if they are so absurd as ever to shave), except when they go
abroad, and who do not take care to wear polished boots in the bosoms of
their families. I like a man who shaves (next to one who does n't shave)
to satisfy his own conscience, and not for display, and who dresses as
neatly at home as he does anywhere. Such a man will be likely to put his
garden in complete order before the snow comes, so that its last days
shall not present a scene of melancholy ruin and decay.

I confess that, after such an exhausting campaign, I felt a great
temptation to retire, and call it a drawn engagement. But better
counsels