MY EXCUSE 5 



nate. Fate had set no wolf to howl at our 

 door. 



In June we decided to take to the woods, or 

 rather to the country, to see what it had in store 

 for us. The more we thought of it, the better I 

 liked the plan, and Polly was no less happy over 

 it. We talked of it morning, noon, and night, 

 and my half-smothered instinct grew by what it 

 fed on. Countless schemes at length resolved 

 themselves into a factory farm, which should be 

 a source of pleasure as well as of income. It 

 was of all sizes, shapes, industries, and limits of 

 expenditure, as the hours passed and enthusiasm 

 waxed or waned. I finally compromised on from 

 two hundred to three hundred acres of land, with 

 a total expenditure of not more than $60,000 

 for the building of my factory. It Was to pro- 

 duce butter, eggs, pork, and apples, all of best 

 quality, and they were to be sold at best prices. 

 I discoursed at some length on farms and farmers 

 to Polly, who slept through most of the harangue. 

 She afterward said that she enjoyed it, but I never 

 knew whether she referred to my lecture or to her 

 nap. 



If farming be the art of elimination, I want it 

 not. If the farmer and the farmer's family must, 

 by the nature of the occupation, be deprived of 

 reasonable leisure and luxury, if the conveniences 

 and amenities must be shorn close, if comfort 

 must be denied and life be reduced to the ele- 

 mental necessities of food and shelter, I want it 



