MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



ture, with its blotches of mulleins, thistles, 

 wax myrtles, and the ill-shapen yard, strag- 

 gling peach orchard (long since gone by), 

 have made my best grass field, which needs 

 only an occasional top dressing of ashes or 

 compost, and a biennial scratching with a fine- 

 toothed harrow, to yield me two tons to the 

 acre of sweet-scented hay. 



I may remark here, in way of warning to 

 those who undertake the renovation of slat- 

 ternly country places, with exuberant spirits, 

 that it is a task which often seems easier than 

 it proves. More especially is this the case 

 where there is an accumulation of old walls, 

 and of unsightly, clumsy-shaped rocks to be 

 dealt with. They may indeed be transferred 

 to new walls; but this involves an expendi- 

 ture, oftentimes, which no legitimate estimate 

 of a farm revenue will warrant ; and I propose 

 to illustrate in this book no theories of im- 

 provement, whether as regards ornamentation 

 or increased productiveness, which a sound 

 economy will not authorize. Agricultural 

 successes which are the result of simple, lavish 

 expenditure, without reference to agricultural 

 returns, are but empty triumphs; no success 

 in any method of culture is thoroughly sound 

 and praiseworthy, except it be imitable, to the 



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