My uncle determined to remove a valuable jargonelle pear-tree from one wall to another. I forget his reason, but no matter; it was, however, much too late in the season, and the tree sickened, and seemed to be dying. The gardener declared it could not live; but Mary, who had read that trees in such a predicament might be saved by a gentle but continual drip of water being guided to the roots, requested my uncle to let her try the effect of this plan. He is always anxious to encourage useful experiment, and willingly consigned the tree to her prescriptions.
She took two large flower-pots, and, having carefully corked the holes, she suspended one to each end of a stick, which was fastened across the stem of the tree. A piece of cloth-listing or selvage, long enough to reach the ground, was put into each pot, with a stone tied to it to prevent its slipping out; and the other end of the listing was slit into three parts, which were slightly pegged into the ground. She then had the pots filled with water, and the whole of the listing being wetted, each of them acted like a syphon, drawing the water up over the edge of the pot, as my uncle says by capillary action, and conducting it slowly and regularly into the ground. The moisture spread to the roots, and in three days the young leaves began to revive. The pots were filled every morning, and she changed the listing once a week, as the filaments of the cloth became clogged, and the water was not so freely transmitted. The daily improvement of the tree was very gratifying to my uncle, who enjoyed Mary’s ingenuity and success; and even the gardener has this morning pronounced it to be out of danger.
18th.—I am afraid that my dear mamma will call me a little credulous simpleton when she reads this account of the singular sagacity of a cat; but my aunt took great pains to ascertain that it was quite correct.
Dame Moreland has some remarkably fine cats, and she is in the constant habit of drowning all their progeny, except one kitten of her favourite, Mrs. Snowtip’s, which she selects with due attention to its beauty. This time, however, pussy thought proper to choose that one for herself, and carrying it from the garden into the house, she left the rest to perish. Accustomed to their being regularly taken away, she seemed to agree to that arrangement, and devoted herself to the one she had saved.
A few weeks afterwards another of the cats kittened, and its whole brood being destroyed, the poor thing became very uneasy, and suffered much from the want of her little ones to relieve her of the nourishment provided for them. On which, the fat Mrs. Snowtip being very ill-supplied herself, actually employed the poor bereaved cat as a nurse. This office she performs with proper fidelity, and the two ladies agree perfectly; for while the nurse feeds little Snowtip, the mother smooths and dresses it herself, and on any alarm flies to its protection, while the nurse seems contented with doing her own duty, and never interferes on such occasions.
19th.—I have had a good deal of work at my strawberry bank, for Mr. Biggs warned me that the beds ought never to be dug, but constantly hand-weeded; and he recommended also that the runners should be nipped off as soon as they appeared. I undertook to do all this myself; and both weeds and runners seem determined that I shall not be idle.
This strawberry bank is such a very dry soil, that I found the plants wanted water continually; and I asked my uncle to let a little channel be made, for the purpose of bringing to the top of the bank a small rill that runs across the back of the shrubbery. Something I had heard about irrigating meadows suggested this idea, and my uncle approved. The channel has been cut, and it brings the water on a level along the upper edge of my bank, from whence it trickles down the slope along each row of strawberry plants. When they have had enough, I put a slate edgeways across the channel, which acts as a little sluice, and turns the water aside into the pond. This method of watering has so far answered very well, for I think my strawberries look more healthy than any of the others; they are now in full flower, and I am in high hopes of having the first and best fruit to present to my uncle for his kindness.
20th.—I had a long walk yesterday evening with Miss Perceval and Mary through some of farmer Moreland’s fields, which are shut up for meadow. The grasses are opening their blossoms, and Miss Perceval taught me the names of several that I had not known. She then asked me if I could describe the leading characters of the grass family.
I considered, and hesitated, and tried; but my attempts were very awkward, and I acknowledged that trials of that sort were sometimes exceedingly useful in making us acquainted with our own ignorance. She smiled, and put the same question to Mary.
Mary said, “I will do my best, but on condition that you will tell me where I am wrong. The stem is generally smooth, and its hollow cylindrical form enables it to stand upright even when four or five feet high; it is usually jointed, which gives it additional strength; and it is terminated by the flowers, which are either tufted, or in spikes, or panicled:—the leaves are alternate, and always undivided—one of them springing from each knot, and enveloping the stem with a sheath, which is split down to the knot. All grasses have a chaffy flower inclosed in a glume or husk; and each flower has a single seed. These are all the general characters that I can recollect, which mark the tribe distinctly.”