MY FARM OF EDGEWOOD 



leaf and flower, that no riches in the world 

 could add to it, without damaging its rural 

 grace; and my gardeners — Sunshine, Frost, 

 and Showers are their names— shall work for 

 me with no crusty reluctance, but with an 

 abandon and a zeal that ask only gratitude for 

 pay. 



But let us come to details. 



WALKS 



A WALK is, first of all, a convenience ; whether 

 leading from door to highway, or to the stable 

 court, or through gardens, or to the wood, it is 

 essentially, and most of all — a convenience; 

 and to despoil it of this quality, by interposing 

 circles or curves, which have no meaning or 

 sufficient cause, is mere affectation. Not to say, 

 however, that all paths should be straight ; the 

 farmer whose home is at a considerable re- 

 move from the highway, and who drives his 

 team thither, avoiding rock, and tree, and hil- 

 lock, will give to his line of approach a grace 

 that it would be hard to excel by counterfeit. 

 Pat, staggering from the orchard, under a 

 bushel of Bartlett pears, and seizing upon 

 every accidental aid in the surface of the de- 

 clivity to relieve the fatigue of his walk— zig- 



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