Adopting an Abandoned Farm

he cider mill and the stacking of the firewood, and netting of the wood-cocks, and the springes to be mended in the garden and by the hedgerows, w

ive how people who live in towns and cities, where neither lambs nor birds are (except in some shop windows), nor growing corn, nor meadow grass, nor even so much as a stick to cut, or a stile to cl

A DO

ms to be at home. If by chance you do find, after long bruising of knuckles, that you have roused an inmate, it is some withered, sad-faced old dame, who is indifferen

y is going at full speed, transpiring and perspiring to such a deg

that I can endure such monotony. On the contrary, I live in a const

or the garden. The horse would break his halter and dart down the street, or, if in pasture, would leap the barbed-wire fence

imultaneously from different directions an

gnificent peacock would wander off two miles, choosing the railroad track for his rambles, and loved to light on Si Evans's barn; then a boy must

ersistent, with a five-dollar illustrated volume recounting minutely the Johnstown horror. And one of my dogs would be apt at this crisis to pursue and slay a chicken or poison himself with fly-paper. Every laboring man for miles around would come with an air of great importance to confid

ould be seen nightly lounging in front of the grocer

entire family to each other

sed the rabbits, trod on young turkeys so that they were no more, drove the cat out of the barn and u

pecially young and happy mothers, to a proper diet; was fond of watching the chickens with wick

ded all my young trees and killed them before I dreamed of such mischief, nibbled at every tender sprout, every swelling bud, were so agile that they could not be captured, and became su

ughter of a noble line; they always fed at opposite corner

n, picked all seeds out of the ground faster than they could be put in, so large spaces sowed with rye l

reen their feathers or gently "coo-oo, I love oo," on the ridge pole. I always longed to own some, but now the illusion is past. They have been admired and petted for ages, consecrated as emblems of innocence and peace and sanctity, regarded as almost sacred from the earlie

deadly feuds. My spunky little bantam game cock was always challenging

engaged to help him, occasionally indulging in a free fight after too frequent

faces bringing carrier pigeons-pretty creatures-and I had been told there was money in pigeons. I paid them extortionate prices on account of extreme ignorance; and t

ild with chronic catarrh o

rats, a father and mother and thirteen little ones, and a mo

e yard with an immense wagon, in which was standing a stupid, vicious old

imal that Noah got into the ark; was sure she'd like a goat." It was

ard to toy poodle-the yard really swarmed with them jus

k, but rather objecti

es, said, after coming uninvited to look over my asso

atellites

. Will not y

ggle, les

lecting old china. Then, after making a long call, drew out a tiny package from his vest pocket and offered for sale two time-worn cheap rings taken from his mother's dead hand. They were

an old lady who was sorely afflicted with ins

let that old peddler come into the house, say we want nothing, and then tell the ladies I'll be down directly-and, O Elle

og Corner for t

ed than is gene