my fences so that their cattle come into my field and eat of my corn, 
which they lay as a grievance against me, instead of complaining at 
their cattle as culprits? Are not these things credentials of proprietor- 
ship of such magnitude as that no holders of a principality can do better 
save in the quantity of taxes and complaints? 
I consider landholding gives a man an independence of spirit not 
obtainable in any other way. He has a spot whereon to live, and—if 
need be—whereon to die and wherein to be buried. Wherever he is, 
though he own not the land on which he walks, he yet retains the feel- 
ing that there is a bit of earth whereon he walks with the step of a lord, 
not to say a conqueror. A landholder loses that apologetic air so detri- 
mental to manhood. His proprietary instinct precipitates (to speak in 
chemical phrase in deference to the soil of my farm) in his attitude 
and conduct. He can not be browbeaten by the vulgar or the elite. 
Truly some have larger holdings than mine; but the depth of their land 
is not greater than mine, nor the height of their sky. They may grow 
a little more crop; but if they grow a little more, I grow a little less, so 
that I too have my idiosyncrasy of genius. 
As appears, | am not a Henry Georgeite. He vexes my soul. I 
am for ownership of soil, and albeit the owning is rather expensive, | do 
not retract a sentiment, nor regret a penny planted in my soil (though 
it has never had the courtesy to so much as sprout). No, with all 
deference to the ghost of Henry George, | must say that so far from 
land ownership being against nature, it is strictly in harmony with 
nature, especially with my nature. I am of opinion that land, like a 
child, likes to belong to somebody. 
I am a son of the soil. Emerson says (and his words are golden), 
that contact with the earth is medicinal; and | doubt not he is right. 
Confident | am that contact with my earth is medicinal. The moment 
I set foot on my farm I seem to have stepped under my meridian. But 
Christian humility is so developed in me that I walk not haughtily nor 
yet obsequiously, though I confess to a certain erectness of shoulders 
not native to me, for I am a large trifle stooped (much learning is 
presumed to be the cause); but Emerson did not say all the truth. 
Contact with the earth is medicinal, but we do not need medicine much 
of the time. I will advance on my friend Emerson's dictum, affirming 
that contact with the earth is dietary. We must all eat, not as a matter 
of luxury, but necessity. Now, contact with the ground is one way a 
man ‘‘can live without dining.’’ (Apology to Owen Meredith's ghost) 
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