thoughts of selling my farm. I thought it afforded but a dull
repetition of the same labours and pleasures. I thought the former
tedious and heavy, the latter few and insipid; but when I came to
consider myself as divested of my farm, I then found the world so
wide, and every place so full, that I began to fear lest there would
be no room for me. My farm, my house, my barn, presented to my
imagination objects from which I adduced quite new ideas; they were
more forcible than before. Why should not I find myself happy, said
I, where my father was before? He left me no good books it is true,
he gave me no other education than the art of reading and writing;
but he left me a good farm, and his experience; he left me free from
debts, and no kind of difficulties to struggle with.--I married, and
this perfectly reconciled me to my situation; my wife rendered my
house all at once cheerful and pleasing; it no longer appeared
gloomy and solitary as before; when I went to work in my fields I
worked with more alacrity and sprightliness; I felt that I did not
work for myself alone, and this encouraged me much. My wife would
often come with her knitting in her hand, and sit under the shady
trees, praising the straightness of my furrows, and the docility of
my horses; this swelled my heart and made everything light and
pleasant, and I regretted that I had not married before.

I felt myself happy in my new situation, and where is that station
which can confer a more substantial system of felicity than that of
an American farmer, possessing freedom of action, freedom of
thoughts, ruled by a mode of government which requires but little
from us? I owe nothing, but a pepper corn to my country, a small
tribute to my king, with loyalty and due respect; I know no other
landlord than the lord of all land, to whom I owe the most sincere
gratitude. My father left me three hundred and seventy-one acres of