MY FARM 



[OWN a farm. This is stated in a 

 spirit of pardonable vanity. I am 

 of those who are "purse proud," 

 | having a farm which some friends 

 of mine affect to make light of as 

 if the possession of a demesne of 

 eighty acres was a matter of small 

 consequence. However, none of 

 these things move me. I am im- 

 pervious to such intimations, know- 

 ing as I do, though I regret to say 

 it, that they all spring from envy. 

 One friend though I have cut his 

 acquaintance since the remark being asked where my farm lay, re- 

 plied with a Machiavelian look, "It does not lie, it stands on end," 

 referring to the fact, in which I take great and legitimate pride, that this 

 estate of mine lies on a very steep hill. I think it strange that envy can 

 so seize one who is otherwise pleasant and companionable and virtuous. 

 After careful and disinterested observation, I am prone to believe 

 that owning a farm tends to catholicity and magnanimity. In any case, 

 since having the estate alluded to, I am totally disinterested. Mansions 

 tempt me not. No roomy ranch with herds and harvests stings me to 

 covetousness. I too am a landholder. Some of Mother Earth is mine. 

 I own a tree, and a ravine, and a spring of running water, and a red 

 clover pasture, and a whip-poor-will, and much moonlight, and a small bil 

 of sky, and now and then a cloud. What hinders me being a landed 

 proprietor? Do I not pay taxes and own tax receipts, and work road 



tax? Do not neighboring landed gentry complain of the ill-repair of 



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