MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



as well as by many in Great Britain. I par- 

 ticularly remember a nice little herd which I 

 had the pleasure of seeing, some years since, 

 at the excellently managed farm of Glas-Nevin 

 in the environs of Dublin: sleek animals all, 

 and thoroughly cared for ; but showing a med- 

 ley of races; the queen milker of all — as it 

 chanced — having lineage in which the Ayr- 

 shire, the Shorthorn and Devon were all 

 blended. 



I know there are very many cattle fanciers, 

 and stanch committee men, who will not ap- 

 prove this method of talking about mixed sta- 

 bles, and of a medley of different races, — as 

 if a farmer were at liberty to make his choice 

 of cattle, with the same coolness with which 

 he would make his choice of ploughs or 

 wagons, and to tie up together, if the humor 

 takes him, animals which the breeders have 

 been keeping religiously apart for a few score 

 of years. 



But I do not share in this punctiliousness. 

 I believe that these animals all, whether of the 

 Herdbook or out of it, must be measured at 

 last, not by their pedigree or title, but by their 

 fitness for humble farm services. A family 

 name may be a good enough test of any ani- 

 mal — biped or other — from whom we look for 



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