MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



much for a bag,"— and this, although she may 

 be the identical Devon of my Short-horn 

 friend. If it is a pig that I would convert 

 into greenbacks— he is "flabby," "scruffy," 

 —his "pork will waste in bilin'." In short if 

 I were to take the opinions of my excellent 

 friends the purchasers — for truth, I should be 

 painfully conscious of having possessed the 

 most mangy hogs, the most aged cows, the 

 scrubbiest veal, and the most diseased and 

 stunted growth of chestnuts and oaks, with 

 which a country-liver was ever afflicted. 



For a time, in the early period of my novi- 

 tiate, I was not a little disturbed by these 

 damaging statements; but have been relieved 

 on learning, by farther experience, that the 

 urgence of such lively falsehoods is only an 

 ingenious mercenary device for the sharpening 

 of a bargain. But while this knowledge puts 

 me in good temper again with my own posses- 

 sions, it sadly weakens my respect for hu- 

 manity. 



Amateur farmers are fine subjects for these 

 chafferers; they yield to them without serious 

 struggle. The extent and manner of their 

 losses, under the engineering abilities of those 

 wiry old gentlemen who drive sharp bargains, 

 is something quite beyond their comprehen- 



290 



