MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



"Muscovies ?" 



"No, not ducks— geese— Bremen geese, but 

 resemble the Muscovies;" (as unlike as they 

 are to sea-fowl; but shall not a host keep 

 his guest in good humor?). 



"I should n't have known 'em from Mus- 

 covies," he says. And I really don't suppose 

 that he would. 



A good-natured city guest, who comes to see 

 you in your retirement, is very apt to talk in 

 this strain upon farming matters. It is en- 

 gaging, but not improving. 



You stroll, by and by, into the library, and 

 leave him for a few moments lounging in the 

 arm-chair, while you slip out to give some 

 orders to the ditchers in the meadow. 



Upon your return, entering somewhat 

 brusquely (expecting to find him deep in some 

 book), you waken him out of a sound sleep. 



"Upon my word," he says, "this is a beau- 

 tiful air ; if I lived here I should sleep half my 

 time." 



The reflection is a somewhat dismal one, — 

 though well meant. 



All this, however, illustrates what I want to 

 say — that the citizen engrossed in active pro- 

 fessional or business pursuits, when he visits a 

 farm friend, goes with the very sensible pur- 



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