The work on the new building ceased, so that all hope of entering into it before the coming spring was abandoned. There was one motto, "Retrenchment," and it was echoed from all sides with all manner of fun and mock solemnity; but those who were in the inner circle doubtless felt, more than the youngsters did, the seriousness of matters. A more strict account of everything was kept; indeed it seemed that the time spent in keeping all the various items, was out of proportion to the work done. I shall not soon forget, in this connection, the joke of "the Parson," E. Capen, who, holding up a pair of pantaloons that he had just received from the Mending Group, said sharply, "I have just gotten a _reseat in full_ for these pantaloons!" It will not be necessary to go into details of changes made to secure more prosperity. I was undisturbed by them. I could go with crust of good bread all day and be satisfied, growing strong and healthy. I could endure the cold and heat without trouble, and have often braved the winter wind, taking no pains to keep it from being blown on my bare chest, and without discomfort. The new greenhouse was built in the autumn, just in time to save the plants from frost. It was situated back of the cottage and garden, almost parallel with our boundary wall, and about fifteen feet from it. There was a little sleeping room connected with it, where I lodged summer and winter. Above me in the gable, a variety of beautiful doves, consisting of Pouters, Tumblers, Ruffs, Carriers and Fantails, was installed. They were very tame, and were much admired by our family and visitors. They came at my call, alighted on my hands, head and shoulders, and picked corn from out my hands and from between my lips. We planted grape vines that bore promises, but were too young for fruit, and we made bouquets and sold them to Boston and West Roxbury parties. Peter N. Klienstrup, the gardener, was under the spell of the powerful weed, tobacco, and he tried time and again to break from the habit of using it, but as often returned to its enchantment and its witchery. "Dis is my last piece," I have heard him say many times, showing me the fragment of a "hand," and when that was gone and for some two or three weeks afterwards everything soured him. He was as cross as a bear, but after that time his nerves would gradually become calmer and his complexion clearer. The gardener would persevere in the disuse of tobacco until the enchanter's spell seemed broken, when some disturbing thing would upset him, and he would turn his pockets inside out, and fumble with his thumb and finger in their extreme corners for the least particle of the "luxury." "John, I _must_ have some tobacco," he would say, and in a day or two would be again under the full influence of the weed. I pitied the old man, as I do the thousands of younger men who are to-day under the same enchantment.