44 MY FARM. 



least, it was difficult to say where the province of 

 the poultry and calves ended, and where the human 

 occupancy began. 



There was a monstrous growth of dock and bur- 

 dock about the outer doors, and not a few rank 

 shoots of that valuable medicinal herb stramonium. 

 There were the invariable clumps of purple lilacs, in 

 most unmanageable positions ; a few straggling 

 bunches of daffodils ; an ancient garden with its 

 measly looking, mossy gooseberries; a few straw- 

 berry plants, and currant bushes keeping up inter- 

 ruptedly the pleasant formality of having once been 

 set in rows, and of having nodded their crimson tas- 

 sels at each other across the walk. There were some 

 half dozen huge old pear trees, immediately in the 

 rear of the house, mossy, and promising inferior na- 

 tive fruit ; but full of a vigor that I have since had 

 the pleasure of transmuting into golden Bartletts. 

 There were a few plum trees, loaded with black 

 knot ; a score of peach trees in out of the way places, 

 all showing unfortunate marks of that vegetable 

 jaundice, the yellows, which throughout New Eng- 

 land is the bane of this delicious fruit. 



There was the usual huge barn, a little wavy in 

 its ridge, and with an aged settle to its big doors ; 

 while under the eaves were jagged pigeon holes, cut 

 by adventurous boys, ignorant of curvilinear har- 



