THIRD WEEK

I believe that I have found, if not original sin, at least vegetable total depravity in my garden; and it was there before I went into it.  It is the bunch, or joint, or snakegrass,—­whatever it is called.  As I do not know the names of all the weeds and plants, I have to do as Adam did in his garden,—­name things as I find them.  This grass has a slender, beautiful stalk:  and when you cut it down, or pull up a long root of it, you fancy it is got rid of; but in a day or two it will come up in the same spot in half a dozen vigorous blades.  Cutting down and pulling up is what it thrives on.  Extermination rather helps it.  If you follow a slender white root, it will be found to run under the ground until it meets another slender white root; and you will soon unearth a network of them, with a knot somewhere, sending out dozens of sharp-pointed, healthy shoots, every joint prepared to be an independent life and plant.  The only way to deal with it is to take one part hoe and two parts fingers, and carefully dig it out, not leaving a joint anywhere.  It will take a little time, say all summer, to dig out thoroughly a small patch; but if you once dig it out, and keep it out, you will have no further trouble.

I have said it was total depravity.  Here it is.  If you attempt to pull up and root out any sin in you, which shows on the surface,—­if it does not show, you do not care for it,—­you may have noticed how it runs into an interior network of sins, and an ever-sprouting branch of them roots somewhere; and that you cannot pull out one without making a general internal disturbance, and rooting up your whole being.  I suppose it is less trouble to quietly cut them off at the top—­say once a week, on Sunday, when you put on your religious clothes and face so that no one will see them, and not try to eradicate the network within.

Remark.—­This moral vegetable figure is at the service of any clergyman who will have the manliness to come forward and help me at a day’s hoeing on my potatoes.  None but the orthodox need apply.

I, however, believe in the intellectual, if not the moral, qualities of vegetables, and especially weeds.  There was a worthless vine that (or who) started up about midway between a grape-trellis and a row of bean-poles, some three feet from each, but a little nearer the trellis.  When it came out of the ground, it looked around to see what it should do.  The trellis was already occupied.  The bean-pole was empty.  There was evidently a little the best chance of light, air, and sole proprietorship on the pole.  And the vine started for the pole, and began to climb it with determination.  Here was as distinct an act of choice, of reason, as a boy exercises when he goes into a forest, and, looking about, decides which tree he will climb.  And, besides, how did the vine know enough to travel in exactly the right direction, three feet, to find what it wanted?  This is intellect.