260 MY FARM. 



me Iris ' idee ' that it is scattered and mangy, and 

 has been pirated upon, and that wood is ' dull,' with 

 no prospect of its rising ; if it is a cow that I venture 

 in the market, the proposed purchaser is equally volu- 

 ble in descriptive epithets, far from complimentary ; 

 she is ' pooty well on in years,' rather scrawny, ' not 

 much for a bag,' and this, although she may be the 

 identical Devon of my Short-horn friend. If it is a 

 pig that I would convert into greenbacks he is 

 * flabby,' ' scruffy,' his ' pork will waste in bilinV 

 In short if I were to take the opinions of my excel- 

 lent friends the purchasers for truth, I should be 

 painfully conscious of having possessed the most 

 mangy hogs, the most aged cows, the scrubbiest 

 veal, and the most diseased and stunted growth of 

 chestnuts and oaks, with which a country-liver was 

 ever afflicted. 



For a time, in the early period of my novitiate, I 

 was not a little disturbed by these damaging state- 

 ments ; but have been relieved on learning, by farther 

 experience, that the urgence of such lively falsehoods 

 is only an ingenious mercenary device for the sharp- 

 ening of a bargain. But while this knowledge puts 

 me in good temper again with my own possessions, it 

 sadly weakens my respect for humanity. 



Amateur farmers are fine subjects for these chaf 

 ferers ; they yield to them without serious struggle 



