In my fern case there were snails; their tracks smeared the glass, and some of the choicest ferns and begonias were bitten off and utterly ruined. Of course, I turned to my American Garden for relief, and found I must get a box turtle and put him in the case. Our small boy found one, and he was soon behind the bars. But the snails weren't scared a whit, and the turtle was the means of bringing me into disgrace with one of our rich neighbors. She is a very fat lady, and one day came in to see the ferns, setting herself in a large arm-chair close to the glass. Right in the midst of our talk, she gave a blood curdling scream, and yelled! "A mouse! A mouse!" We pulled her up, and there was the poor turtle trying to get from the seat of the chair to the floor. The glass of the case being lifted a little, tired of hunting for snails, he had escaped. We thought him a failure as a snail catcher, and he was thrown out of doors, but my faith in The American Garden is still strong. - A. L.