MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



damsel," who hath such fingers "that in milk- 

 ing a cow, it seemes that so sweet a milk- 

 presse makes the milk the whiter, or sweeter." 

 But milkmaids nowadays are mostly Con- 

 naughtmen, in cowhide boots and black satin 

 waistcoats, who say "begorra," and beat the 

 cows with the milking-stool. 



Overbury says of the ancient British type — 

 "Her breath is her own, which sents all the 

 yeare long of June, like a newmade haycock." 



And I may say of the present representative 

 — His breath is his own, which "sents all the 

 yeare long" of proof spirits, like a newmade 

 still. 



Overbury tenderly says — "Thus lives she, 

 and all her care is she may die in the spring 

 time, to have store of flowers stucke upon her 

 winding sheet," 



And I, as pathetically :— Thus fares he, and 

 all his care is he may get his full wage, and a 

 good jollification "nixt St. Parthrick's day." 



This is only my way of introducing the 

 labor question, which, in every aspect, is a 

 serious one to a party entering upon the man- 

 agement of country property. If such party 

 is anticipating the employment of one of Sir 

 Thomas Overbury's milk-maydes, or of the 

 pretty damsel who sang Marlowe's song to 



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