But my game was only half played. In another part of the garden were
other peas, growing and blowing. To these I took good care not to
attract the attention of the bird by any scarecrow whatever! I left the
old scarecrow conspicuously flaunting above the old vines; and by this
means I hope to keep the attention of the birds confined to that side of
the garden. I am convinced that this is the true use of a scarecrow: it
is a lure, and not a warning. If you wish to save men from any
particular vice, set up a tremendous cry of warning about some other,
and they will all give their special efforts to the one to which
attention is called. This profound truth is about the only thing I have
yet realized out of my pea-vines.
However, the garden does begin to yield. I know of nothing that makes
one feel more complacent, in these July days, than to have his
vegetables from his own garden. What an effect it has on the market-man
and the butcher! It is a kind of declaration of independence. The
market-man shows me his peas and beets and tomatoes, and supposes he
shall send me out some with the meat. "No, I thank you," I say
carelessly: "I am raising my own this year." Whereas I have been wont to
remark, "Your vegetables look a little wilted this weather," I now say,
"What a fine lot of vegetables you've got!" When a man is not going to
buy, he can afford to be generous. To raise his own vegetables makes a
person feel, somehow, more liberal.
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