60 MY FARM. 



ridge of cliff with its outlying slaty debris, in the 

 very centre of a garden, which many a booby leveller 

 would have been disposed to blast away, and trans- 

 mute into walls, yet under the hand of taste, so 

 tressed over with delicate trailing plants, and so 

 kindled up with flaming spikes of salvia, and masses 

 of scarlet geranium, as to make it the crowning at- 

 traction of the place. All clearance is not judicious 

 clearance. 



But I have not yet cleared the way to my own 

 back door ; though at a distance of only a few rods 

 from the highway, I could reach it, on taking occu- 

 pancy, only by skirting a dangerous looking shed, 

 and passing through two dropsical gates that were 

 heavy with a mass of mouldy lumber. 



These gates opened upon a straggling cattle yard, 

 whose surface was so high and dense, as to distribute 

 a powerful flow of yellow streamlets in very awk- 

 ward directions after every shower. One angle of 

 this yard it was necessary to traverse before reaching 

 my door. My clearance here was decisive and 

 prompt. The threatening shed came down upon the 

 run ; the mouldering gates and fences were splin- 

 tered into kindling wood ; the convexity of the cattle 

 yard was scooped into a dish, with provision for 

 possible overflow in safe directions. A snug compact 

 fence blinded it all, and confined it within reasonable 



