20 MY FARM. 



ing with some enterprising skipper to tow a few tame 

 whales into harbor, to be slashed up, and tried, and 

 put into clean casks, on some mild afternoon of 

 June. 



In the latter case, we should probably have the 

 oil and the bone ; and in the other, we should per- 

 haps have the butter and the eggs ; in both, we cer- 

 tainly should have the bills to pay. 



If a man would enter upon country life in earnest, 

 and test thoroughly its aptitudes and royalties, he 

 must not toy with it at a town distance ; he must 

 brush the dews away with his own feet. He must 

 bring the front of his head to the business, and not 

 the back side of it ; or, as Cato put the same matter 

 to the Romans, near two thousand years ago, Frons 

 oecipitio prior est. 



But while I was thus compelled to discard certain 

 propositions at their first suggestion, there were 

 others which wore such a roseate hue as challenged 

 scrutiny and compelled a visit. Thus, a veiy straight- 

 forward and business-like letter from a Wall-street 

 agent informed me that his esteemed client, Mr. Van 

 Heine, " was willing to dispose of a considerable coun- 

 try property thirty miles from the city, in a favorable 

 location. The house was not large or expensive, pos- 

 sibly not extensive enough ; there was old wood upon 

 the place, the surface charmingly diversified, and in 



