The little girl was always very choice in her words. She had been so much with her mother, and Gill was not like a common laborer; for he dignified toil by improving his mind while he cultivated the soil.
“The white onion is milder than the red,” he said. “It is nice when boiled in milk. We call it ‘silver-skin.’ There is a species of onion which is a native of Syria, and which was brought to other parts of the world. It is called ‘echalotte’ and has awl-shaped, hollow leaves, and purplish-yellow flowers, and very agreeable roots. And there is the leek, with its tall, purple stem, and large seed-balls, and mild bulbs, which some people prefer to our onions. And there is garlic, with its grass-like leaves, and white flowers, and the stem with a head composed of little bulbs, and the root divided into several parts called ‘cloves’ wrapped up in one common membrane. They are turned out of their blanket and strung together, and hung about the market-stalls.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve seen them,” said Ben; “but they taste like our onion, do they not?”
“They are stronger,” said the Scotchman. “In the old countries, especially in Spain, garlic is used in almost every dish. It is very easy to cultivate, as it is a very hardy plant. The doctors give preparations of this plant for various diseases, and the juice makes a strong cement for broken glass or china. Even its bad odor is useful; for it drives away snails and worms and moles, and other voracious creatures, if placed near their haunts.”
“I suppose onions are very nice,” said little Sally; “but it makes my eyes ache to stand so near this bed. I am going to play with Jack for a while now. You and Ben can pull the vegetables, if you like.”
“We shall have a resting-spell, after a while,” said Gill. “The potatoes are all in the bin, and I have only the pumpkins to get in; and then no more jogging to the the city, day after day, for a long time to come.”
“What will you do all winter?” asked Ben.
“I shall find work as the hours come, if it please God to spare my life,” said Gill. “I’ve never yet seen the time when there was nothing to occupy me. Even the ground, that seems to lie idle during the frost and cold, is secretly making ready for the spring, and I shall be as busy as it, with bulbs and plants and seeds, and plans for their future growth. I have to look to it that they do not sprout too soon in the cellar, and that they are in a proper state of dryness or moisture; and I must enrich the land, and arrange so that the crops shall not exhaust it. Never fear. I shall have enough to do without going every day to market in the old cart.”