FARM ECHOES. 39 



Some excellent advice was occasionally volunteered. It 

 was always thankfully received, and suitably acknowl- 

 edged. Sometimes absurd suggestions were seriously 

 made to me, but not seriously entertained. 



All attempts to argue with me were thwarted as I in- 

 variably and good naturedly assured the parties at the 

 outset, that I was ignorant upon all such matters, and 

 had made up my mind to learn by experience. One in- 

 stance of this kind will suffice. 



Not far from my stable was a large ledge of rock$, in 

 the midst of an ugly, swampy piece of land. Of course, 

 such places, especially those in the vicinity of my dwel- 

 ling, received the earliest attention. The swamp was 

 drained. The huge ledge was torn to pieces by powder, 

 and the rocks from it were used in building walls and in 

 filling up the hollow where the swamp had been. Hun- 

 dreds of loads of earth from a near and accessible bank 

 were then carted into it, and an ample supply of muck 

 was spread over the surface and well worked into the 

 earth. The muck had previously been piled up and dried, 

 subject to a winter's frost, and the spreading was done in 

 the middle of summer. Muck beds in the vicinity had 

 been left undisturbed by my neighbors, who enjoyed many 

 a hearty laugh at the idea of the "city farmer" expecting 

 to produce any crop by any such means. 



A few gave their opinions concerning my methods un- 

 asked, and in terms by no means complimentary. All 

 agreed that muck was never so used ; that it should be 

 put into a compost heap, etc., etc. It was in my power 

 to turn upon them and ask why their muck beds had 

 never been put to any such use, and why they did not 



