PREFACE. 



A FRIEND afks, &quot;Are you not tired, then, of that 

 fancy of Farming? Is it not an expensive amuse 

 ment ; is it not a stupefying bufmess ? 



&quot; Do you find your brain taking breadth or color out 

 of Carrot-raiting, or Pumpkins ? Poultry is a pretty thing, 

 between Tumblers, and Muscovy ducks ; but can you not 

 buy cheaper than you raise, without the fret of foxes and 

 vermin, in any city market ? 



&quot; Shall I sell out and join you ? Shall I teach this boy 

 of mine (you know his physique and that gray eye of nis, 

 looking after some eidolon) to love the country so far as 

 to plant himself there, and grow into the trade of farming ? 

 A victory over the forces of nature, and of the seafons, 

 compelling them to abundance, is no doubt large ; but is 

 not a victory over the forces of mind, which can only 



