This brought me immediately to the much more complex problem of
economics. I knew that men could live in the country on small means,
for men did so; but I perceived that the art of living in the country
did not come by nature. Every one supposes that he can drive a horse
or grow potatoes; and, when we recollect how many thousands of men go
to Canada to take up agricultural pursuits without the least knowledge
of the business, it is clear that the belief is general that any man
can farm. I may claim the merit of freedom from this popular delusion.
I not only knew that I could not farm, but I did not wish to be a
farmer. What I wished was to live in the country in some modest way
that answered to my needs; to earn by some form of exertion a small
income; and at the most, to grow my own vegetables, catch my own fish,
and snare my own rabbits.

A legacy of two hundred a year would have served my purpose admirably,
but modesty forbade me laying my case before benevolent millionaires,
and a destitution of maiden aunts put an end to any hopes of a bequest
by natural causes.

What was my precise position then? I had a salary of two hundred and
fifty pounds a year. An investment that had turned out fortunately
gave me about forty pounds a year. I had done from time to time a
little work for the press, which had been worth to me about thirty
pounds a year more. My total budget showed, then, an annual income of
three hundred and twenty pounds, which I found barely sufficient for my
needs as a dweller in towns. If I migrated to a cottage, how would
matters stand with me? I should lose my two hundred and fifty pounds
per annum of course, and this was an alarming prospect. But, on the
other hand, I reminded myself that I had never really possessed it. I
prepared various tables in which I arranged the items of my expenditure