stepmother, but warm and
generous to all, and I think a fellow is lucky who comes to her for long
years of bounty before he is compelled to seek her final hospitality."

"But, Dad, we can't all be farmers."

"Of course not, and there's the pity of it; but almost every man can
have a plot of ground on which each year he can grow some new thing, if
only a radish or a leaf of lettuce, to add to the real wealth of the
world. I tell you, young lady, that all wealth springs out of the
ground. You think that riches are made in Wall Street, but they are
not; they are only handled and manipulated. Stop the work of the farmer
from April to October of any year, and Wall Street would be a howling
wilderness. The Street makes it easier to exchange a dozen eggs for
three spools of silk, or a pound of butter for a hat pin, but that's
all; it never created half the intrinsic value of twelve eggs or sixteen
ounces of butter. It's only the farmer who is a wealth producer, and
it's high time that he should be recognized as such. He's the husbandman
of all life; without him the world would be depopulated in three years.
You don't half appreciate the profession which your Dad has taken up in
his old age."

"That sounds all right, but I don't think the farmer would recognize
himself from that description. He doesn't live up to his possibilities,
does he?"

"Mighty few people do. A farmer may be what he chooses to be. He's under
no greater limitations than a business or a professional man. If he be
content to use his muscle blindly, he will probably fall under his own
harrow. So, too, would the merchant or the lawyer who failed to use his
intelligence in his business. The farmer who cultivates his mind as well
as his land, uses his pencil as often as his plough, and mixes brains
with brawn, will not fall under his own harrow or any other man's. He
will never be the drudge of soil or of season, for to a large extent he
can control the soil and discount the season. No other following gives
such opportunity for independence and self-balance."

"Almost thou persuadest me to become a farmer," said Kate, as we left
the porch, where I had been admiring my land while I lectured on the
advantages of husbandry.

Polly came out of the rose garden, where she had been examining her
flowers and setting her watch, and said:--

"Kate, you and the grand-girls must stay this month out, anyway. It
seems an age since we saw you last."

"All right, if D