KENTUCKY FARMERS 



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of soil toiler, lie owns a fine old homestead (a country 

 gentleman's ""place" or ""estate" in reality, but he calls it 

 a " farm "), perhaps inherited for generations, and boasts 

 acres as broad and beautiful as an English park, lie 

 gets into the saddle after a decidedly late breakfast for 

 a farmer, rides around to visit his crops and the stock, 

 gives a few directions to his headmen, and then canters 

 off into — let us say Lexington, for a drink and a chat and 

 billiards, or some other amusement with similar farmers, 

 and God gives the increase. On work of the easiest the 

 Kentucky Blue Grass farmer grows rich. Just think of 

 the toil and moil of our poor New England farmers, your 

 ancestors and mine, good friend, and for what ? Well, for 



TUNISIAN WITH TWO-YEAR-OLD BARB 



