WHEN the beans were all picked, Gill pulled some radishes and tied them in bunches. There were the spindle-shaped, and the turnip or top-shaped, white, red, and violet outside; but always white within, and so crisp and nice to the taste. Ben and Sally liked to eat them with salt and bread and butter. Gill told them that this vegetable is healthful, if one is temperate in its use. It is a gentle stimulant and anti-scorbutic. That is a big word; but you may as well learn that it means “against scurvy,” which is a skin disease, and very troublesome to the poor sailors when they have little to live upon excepting salt meats, and are without vegetables. Ben recollected what his mother had read to him about the sufferings of Dr. Kane and his men, when they went to the Arctic regions, and he thought how nice it would have been if they could have had plenty of Gill’s radishes. The Scotchman always contrived to have a succession of these roots, by sowing monthly. He took care that the soil should be loose, and deep. When the heat was great, he watered them often to keep the roots mild and tender. Somehow every thing that Gill planted or sowed came to perfection. Ben and Sally looked with wonder upon the tiny seed as it fell into the place prepared for it.

“It does not seem as if it would ever amount to any thing,” said Ben.

“We shall see,” said Gill; and, sure enough, up pierced the little, tender shoot, and grew to a rough stem of two or three feet high, if left to run to seed, with short hairs upon it, and toothed leaves, and flowers white or purplish in clusters; and, by and by, little pods like a cylinder in form, with a sharp point, and swelling into knots where the little round seeds lay.

The pod does not burst, as some pods do when the seeds are ripe. In China they extract oil from the radish seed, and use it for cooking. Gill told the children that the radish was brought originally from China and Persia. There is the wild radish, or charlock, which grows in our grain fields, and troubles the farmers very much. It has yellow flowers.

“Now for the asparagus bed,” said Gill. “That is all I shall carry to town, to-day.”

“‘Tis nearly time for me to go and change my dress,” said little Sally, “but I want to see you off with your load; and I want you to tell us about the asparagus, as well as of the peas and beans and radishes.”

“It cuts splendidly to-day,” said Gill, as he sent the sharp knife beneath the soil, and laid the tender shoots side by side upon the ground.

“This grows wild upon the pebbly beach near Weymouth, England, and in the island of Anglesey, in the Irish Sea; but its stem there is no larger than a goose-quill, and it grows only a few inches high,” said Gill. “You see what cultivation makes it. Here are these shoots, almost an inch thick; and when I allow them to run to seed, you have the beautiful plant four or five feet high, with the scarlet berries which Sally likes to string for beads and hang around her neck.”

“Yes,” said Sally, “and mother has the branches in the fireplace in summer, and hangs them upon the wall for the flies to alight upon.”

“You put coarse salt on the asparagus-bed, sometimes, don’t you?” asked Ben.

“Yes; the plant likes salt, as it comes from the sea-shore. When I make a bed for this vegetable, I let it lie three years before I cut any, and then it will bear for several years; and, in the winter, I keep it from frost by covering it with straw and litter from the barn.”

“Sally and I will be good farmers; will we not, Gill?” said Ben.

“‘Tis a good thing to know how the table-vegetables are raised, even if you always buy them,” returned the Scotchman. “‘Tis not showing a proper thankfulness to God to sit and eat and never think what a world of pains he has taken to give us such variety for the pleasure of the palate. I never wish to put any thing into my mouth without thanking the Divine hand that gave it, and I hope you children will remember always to do the same, and strive to learn all you can about every good gift that comes from above.”

“You forgot the lettuce,” said Sally. “You carry some of that, do you not?”

“Yes,” said Gill; “I’ll pull it on our way to the barn.”

The leaves were fresh and crisp, and bathed in morning dew. Gill selected the young plants, and left those that were in flower to sport their small, pale-yellow blossoms.

“It is narcotic and poisonous when in flower,” he said.

Little Sally asked, “What is narcotic?” and Gill told her, “Producing sleep or torpor. If one ate too much, it would benumb the brain, and, maybe, we could not rouse it again. All the senses would be stupefied, as when one takes an overdose of laudanum or of opium, and the person might die.”

“I’m always sleepy when I eat lettuce,” said Ben; “and I’ve often wondered at that.”

“The doctors get a soothing medicine from this plant.” said Gill. “The stem is cut, and the milky juice is obtained, and it hardens into little reddish-brown lumps which are sold at the drug-stores. They call it “lettuce opium” sometimes, but they say it is not so harmful as the real opium.”

“Where does that come from?” asked Ben.

“From the poppy,” said Gill. “There is a species of poppy which yields it in large quantities. It grows wild in the south of Europe, and in parts of England; and it is cultivated in India, and Persia, and Asiatic Turkey. The people make a good deal of money out of it. When the plant is young, it is as harmless as the young lettuce, and is eaten as a pot herb. The opium is chiefly extracted from the seed-vessel after the flower has fallen. There are large fields of this poppy, in the countries I spoke of, and men and women go out and make little incisions, or cuts, in the capsule or seed-vessel. Then they leave it for twenty-four hours, and when they come again the juice stands in tears, and they scrape it off with blunt knives. You have heard of opium-eaters?” said Gill.—“Yes,” returned the children; “they are like drunkards, are they not?”

“Just as bad,” said the Scotchman. “When people get this habit, it makes such slaves of them that they seldom shake it off; but if they could know the process of opium-making, I think it might possibly prevent their eating the dirty stuff.”

“Tell us,” said Ben.

“The juice hardens like jelly,” said Gill, “and it is put into small earthen vessels and beaten with a pestle, and moistened now and then with saliva.”

“You don’t mean spittle!” said Ben, who had not forgotten the meaning of the word.

“Precisely so,” said Gill, delighted at the lad’s expression of disgust. “I see you will never care to eat the filthy drug. When it is of the proper consistency, it is wrapped in leaves and sent to market.”

“Ugh!” said little Sally, “don’t say any more about it.”

“We must remember that, under the advice and direction of a physician, it is of great benefit to mankind,” said Gill. “It is used in cases of severe pain, and of continued sleeplessness; but one should never tamper with any such poisons The doctor is the only fit person to administer it.”

Gill was half way to market when Lucy rang the “early bell.” You would not have known the neat little girl and boy who entered the breakfast-room, and gave papa and mamma the morning kiss. Sally had left her garden-shoes in the back entry-way, in a small closet, and had hung her wet frock in the sun to dry; and she had come fresh from the bath, with her cheeks as rosy as could be, and the damp curls brushed smoothly over her forehead, and clustering about her face. Her black, shining boots were laced over white stockings, and she wore a pure white dress and apron. It was a refreshing sight, and her father and mother commended her by saying, “How nice you are, little daughter!”

Ben also had his share of praise, and deserved it; for he had put away his soiled clothing, and appeared in a fresh brown linen suit, and his hands and finger-nails were as nice as if he had not been helping Gill all the morning.

Lucy brought Jack in to prayers. She seated the little fellow upon the carpet, and gave him a string of buttons to play with, and he had already learned that the buttons meant, “Now, my little man, you must be very quiet, and not disturb mother before she has had her lesson from the Holy Book, and her time of communion with God.” The baby understood what was expected of him, and he behaved much better than some people that I have seen in the church, which is the house of prayer.

Only the other Sunday I was almost afraid, there were so many thoughtless young people around me in the sacred place. They did not seem to listen at all when the Bible was being read; but they whispered and laughed together, as if they had come for a frolic; and, even when the people who wanted to be good were upon their knees before God, these wicked boys and girls sat with their faces close together, and their tongues busy with idle words, for which they must give account at last. I was so sorry! so sorry! I hope God will grant what I asked for them,—that they may repent of their sin, so that it may not be laid to their charge.

Ben and Sally were very attentive to the word of life, and their hearts and voices went up to their heavenly Father in earnest prayer for help and guidance through life.

The breakfast never tasted so delicious. They had worked hard enough to give them a good relish for Lucy’s brown bread and fish-balls, and toast and eggs.