“But you are wrong,” I went on, “even if you are right.  You may laugh to scorn my floral treasures, because they seem to you common and unclean, but your laughter is premature.  It is no ordinary seed that you see before you.  It sprang from no profane soil.  It came from the—­the—­some kind of an office at WASHINGTON, Sir!  It was given me by one whose name stands high on the scroll of fame,—­a statesman whose views are as broad as his judgment is sound,—­an orator who holds all hearts in his hand,—­a man who is always found on the side of the feeble truth against the strong falsehood,—­whose sympathy for all that is good, whose hostility to all that is bad, and whose boldness in every righteous cause make him alike the terror and abhorrence of the oppressor, and the hope and joy and staff of the oppressed.”

“What is his name?” said Halicarnassus, phlegmatically.

“And for your miserable pumpkin-vine,” I went on, “behold this morning-glory, that shall open its barbaric splendor to the sun and mount heavenward on the sparkling chariots of the dew.  I took this from the white hand of a young girl in whose heart poetry and purity have met, grace and virtue have kissed each other,—­whose feet have danced over lilies and roses, who has known no sterner duty than to give caresses, and whose gentle, spontaneous, and ever active loveliness continually remind me that of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

“Courted yet?” asked Halicarnassus, with a show of interest.

I transfixed him with a look, and continued,—­

“This Maurandia, a climber, it may be common or it may be a king’s ransom.  I only know that it is rosy-hued, and that I shall look at life through its pleasant medium.  Some fantastic trellis, brown and benevolent, shall knot supporting arms around it, and day by day it shall twine daintily up toward my southern window, and whisper softly of the sweet-voiced, tender-eyed woman from whose fairy bower it came in rosy wrappings.  And this Nemophila, ’blue as my brother’s eyes,’—­the brave young brother whose heroism and manhood have outstripped his years, and who looks forth from the dank leafiness of far Australia lovingly and longingly over the blue waters, as if, floating above them, he might catch the flutter of white garments and the smile on a sister’s lip”—­

“What are you going to do with ’em?” put in Halicarnassus again.

I hesitated a moment, undecided whether to be amiable or bellicose under the provocation, but concluded that my ends would stand a better chance of being gained by adopting the former course, and so answered seriously, as if I had not been switched off the track, but was going on with perfect continuity,—­

“To-morrow I shall take observations.  Then, where the situation seems most favorable, I shall lay out a garden.  I shall plant these seeds in it, except the vines and such things, which I wish to put near the house to hide as much as possible its garish white.  Then, with every little tender shoot that appears above the ground, there will blossom also a pleasant memory or a sunny hope or an admiring thrill.”