MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



I think it is somewhat too persistently pressed. 

 It suggests — rather too strongly the urgence 

 of the recruiting sergeant, in setting forth the 

 profitableness of soldiering. I do not observe 

 that army contractors magnify the gains of 

 their craft very noisily. The hens that lay 

 golden eggs never cackle; at least, I never 

 heard them. 



The question of my friend remains, how- 

 ever, 



"Do you ever get any money back, — eh?" 



What an odious particularity many of these 

 city people have! What a crucial test they 

 bring to the delightful surroundings of a coun- 

 try home! Have they no admiration for such 

 stretch of fields, such herds, and the shrub- 

 beries, on whose skirts the flowers are gleam- 

 ing? Somebody has suggested that the for- 

 bidden fruit with which the Devil tempted Eve, 

 and which Eve plucked to the sorrow of her 

 race, was — money. A tree whose fruit carries 

 knowledge of good and evil, is surely not an in- 

 apt figure of the capabilities of money— by 

 which all men and women stand tempted to- 

 day. The Paradise tree is not popularly sup- 

 posed to grow largely on the farms of amateurs. 



But the question returns — "Do you get any 

 money back?" 



216 



