MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



in red beard and red fur cap, with a black- 

 stemmed porcelain pipe in his mouth, and 

 trousers thrust into stout cowhide boots. He 

 was striding forward in the same direction 

 with me, and at nearly an equal pace. 



"Did he possibly know of a Mr. Van Heine 

 in this region ?" 



"Yah— yah," and the man, who may have 

 been an emigrant of only four of five years 

 of American nationality, pointed toward him- 

 self with a pleased and grim complacency. 



"This was Mr. Van Heine, then, who has 

 a country property to sell ?" 



"Yah — yah," and his smile has now grown 

 eager and familiar. 



His place is a little farther on; and I ask 

 him to a seat beside me. 



"It is a farm he has to sell ?" 



"Yah-yah, farm." 



I ask if the view is good. 



"Yah-good-yah." 



I venture a question in regard to the mill. 



"Yah-mill-yah." 



"Gristmill?" I ask. 



"Yah-mill." 



"For sawing?" I add, thinking possibly he 

 might misunderstand me. 



"Yah— sawing." 



26 



