2 FARMING IT 



It is not out of place here to state that my auto- 

 cratic father has seen good reasons to moderate 

 his ambitious desires in respect to my vocation 

 in life, and, to speak more plainly, wishes he had 

 not interfered. 



Now I had inherited or acquired a certain 

 taste for the soil, which manifested itself in vari- 

 ous ways during my boyhood. I had early con- 

 ceived a taste and interest in mud pies, and had 

 carried the products of that industry on my face 

 and hands to perhaps a greater extent than any 

 child in the neighborhood. I had also manifested 

 a most reprehensible tendency to besmear my- 

 self with mud upon every occasion. That this 

 was to a certain extent a matter of heredity I 

 have no doubt. 



My great-grandfather had once owned the 

 largest and finest farm in town, and had, while 

 yet a young man, sold the same for a round 

 sum, the interest on which enabled him to live 

 in comfort for the rest of his days and maintain 

 a large family of children, who, as tradition has 

 it, did all they could to relieve that ancestor of 

 all loose money that he possessed. As he passed 

 from this world nearly three quarters of a cen- 

 tury ago, it is needless to state that his later life 

 was not embittered by his intimate acquaintance 

 with me. He is gone, but the farm still remains, 

 and the tradition that our family once owned it 



