I scarcely know how it happened, but, instead of the end of the strawberry-season being the termination of Mr. Logan's visits, they continued full as frequent as when there was really pressing work for him to assist in. It could not have been because his curiosity to see how my crop would turn out was still ungratified, as he knew all about it, how much we had sold, and what money it produced. But he seemed to have quite fallen in love with the garden; and, indeed, he one day observed, that "there would ever be something in that garden to interest him." Then in my little improvements about the house, in fixing up some of our old trellises, in planting new vines and flowers, and in transplanting trees and shrubs, he insisted on helping me nearly half the week. He really performed far more work of this kind than Fred had ever done, and appeared to be perfectly familiar with such matters. Moreover, he approved so generally of my plans that I at last felt it would be difficult to do without him. But I could not help considering it strange that he should so frequently give up the higher society to which he was accustomed in the city, and spend so much of his time at our humble cottage. Thus the season went on until August came in, when the strawberry-ground was becoming thickly covered with runners, especially from the newly planted half-acre. I had intended bestowing no particular care on these, except to keep down the weeds so that the runners could take root. But when Mr. Logan learned this, he said it would never do. Besides, he said, the ground looked to him as if it were not rich enough. So, if he could have his own way, he would show me how the thing should be managed. Well, as by this time he really appeared to have as much to say about the garden as any of us, what could I do but consent? First, then, with my assistance, he turned back the runners into the rows, and then had the spaces between covered with a thick coat of fine old compost, which he probably bought somewhere in the neighborhood,--but how much it cost we could never get him to say. Then he brought in a man with a plough, who broke up the ground, turning the manure thoroughly in, and then harrowing it until the surface was as finely pulverized as if done with a rake. Then we spread out the runners again, and he showed me how to fasten them by letting them down into the soft earth with the point of my hoe. I told him I never should have thought of taking so much trouble; but he said there was no other way by which the runners could be converted into robust plants, certain to produce a heavy crop the next season. They must have a freshly loosened soil to run over, and in which to form strong roots; and as to enriching the ground, it was absolutely indispensable. To be sure, I could produce fruit without it, but it would be of very inferior quality.