I carried it from one place to another, each time more remote.

It would not be lonely if segregrated, doubtless it had ample social facilities within itself! At last I became desperate.

"Ellen," I exclaimed, "just bring in that cheese and burn it.
It comes high, too high.

I can not endure it." She opened the top of the range and, as the cremation was going on, I continued my comments.

"Why, in all my life, I never knew anything like it; wherever I put it--in pantry, swing cupboard, on the cellar stairs, in a tin box, on top of the refrigerator--way out on that--" Just then Tom opened the door and said: "Miss, your fertilizer's come!" I have told you of my mistakes, failures, losses, but have you any idea of my daily delights, my lasting gains?
From invalidism to health, from mental depression to exuberant spirits, that is the blessed record of two years of amateur farming.