I am an enthusiastic lover
of the country and of country life, and believed that I should
derive more pleasure as well as profit from the culture of my
far-stretching vineyard than I would from ordinary farm
operations.
I built myself a good house of moderate size upon a little
plateau on the higher part of my estate. Sitting in my porch,
smoking my pipe after the labors of the day, I could look down
over my vineyard into a beautiful valley, with here and there a
little curling smoke arising from some of the few dwellings which
were scattered about among the groves and spreading fields, and
above this beauty I could imagine all my hillside clothed in
green and purple.
My family consisted of myself alone. It is true that I
expected some day that there would be others in my house besides
myself, but I was not ready for this yet.
During the summer I found it very pleasant to live by
myself. It was a novelty, and I could arrange and manage
everything in my own fashion, which was a pleasure I had not
enjoyed when I lived in my father's house. But when winter came
I found it very lonely. Even my servants lived in a cabin at
some little distance, and there were many dark and stormy
evenings when the company even of a bore would have been welcome
to me. Sometimes I walked over to the town and visited my
friends there, but this was not feasible on stormy nights, and
the winter seemed to me a very long one.
But spring came, outdoor operations began, and for a few
weeks I felt again that I was all-sufficient for my own pleasure
and comfort.
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