THE SEARCH AND FINDING 



IT was in June, i8— , that, weary of a some- 

 what long and vagabond homelessness, 

 during which I had tossed some half a 

 dozen times across the Atlantic, — partly from 

 health-seeking, in part out of pure vagrancy, 

 and partly (me tcedef meminisse) upon official 

 errand— I determined to seek the quiet of a 

 homestead. 



There were tender memories of old farm 

 days in my mind ; and these were kindled to a 

 fresh exuberance and lustiness by the recent 

 hospitalities of a green English home, with its 

 banks of Laurestina, its broad-leaved Rhodo- 

 dendrons, and its careless wealth of primroses. 

 Of course the decision was for the country; 

 and I had no sooner scented the land, after the 

 always dismal sail across the fog banks of 

 Georges' shoal, than I drew up an advertise- 

 ment for the morning papers, running, so 

 nearly as I can recall it, thus : — 



"Wanted — A Farm, of not less than one 



