Meanwhile my beans, the length of whose rows, added together,

was seven miles already planted, were impatient to be hoed, for the

earliest had grown considerably before the latest were in the

ground; indeed they were not easily to be put off. What was the

meaning of this so steady and self-respecting, this small Herculean

labor, I knew not. I came to love my rows, my beans, though so many

more than I wanted. They attached me to the earth, and so I got

strength like Antaeus. But why should I raise them? Only Heaven

knows. This was my curious labor all summer -- to make this portion

of the earths surface, which had yielded only cinquefoil,

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