MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



If there be any cure for daisies, short of a 

 clean fallow every second year, I do not know 

 it; at least, not in a region where your good 

 neighbors allow them to mature seed every 

 year, and stock your fields with every strong 

 wind, afresh. 



Heavy topdressing is recommended for their 

 eradication, but it is not effective; so far as I 

 can see, the interlopers, if once established, 

 enjoy heavy feeding. A rye crop is by many 

 counted an exterminator of this pest; but it 

 will find firm footing after rye. Thorough 

 and clean tillage, with a system of rotation, 

 afford the only security. 



It is not Burns' "wee-tipped" daisy that is 

 to be dealt with; it is a sturdier plant — our ox- 

 eye daisy of the fields; there is no modesty 

 in its flaunting air and the bold uplift of its 

 white and yellow face. 



I never thought there was a beauty in it, 

 until, on a day— years ago— after a twelve- 

 month's wandering over the fields of the Con- 

 tinent, I came upon a little pot of it, under the 

 wing of the Madeleine, on the streets of Paris. 

 It was a dwarfish specimen, and the nodding 

 blossoms (only a pair of them) gave a modest 

 dip over the edge of the red crock, as if they 

 felt themselves in a country of strangers. But 



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