Irvin S. Cobb

Irvin S. Cobb

Summary

Portrait of Irvin S. Cobb Irvin S. Cobb The Abandoned Farmers

Generally speaking, all antiques—whether handed down from antiquity or made on the premises—looked alike to me. But in the light of my painfully acquired knowledge I now can see the difference almost at a glance. Sometimes I may waver a trifle. I look at a piece of furniture which purports to be an authentic antique. It is decrepit and creaky and infirm; the upholstering is frayed and faded and stained; the legs are splayed and tottery; the seams gape and there are cracks in the paneling. If it is a chair, no plump person in his or her right mind would dare sit down in it.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Irvin S. Cobb Irvin S. Cobb The Abandoned Farmers

When the rumpled soil had been smoothed back and plowed and harrowed, and sown to grass, and when the grass had sprouted as promptly as it did, there stood forth a dimpling green expanse where before had been a damp, moldy and almost impenetrable tangle, hiding treasure-troves of old tin cans, heaps of rusted and broken farming implements and here and there the bleached-out bones of a dead cow or a deceased horse.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Irvin S. Cobb Irvin S. Cobb The Abandoned Farmers

On a long, deserted stretch of road, as the shadows were lengthening, we overtook a native of a rural aspect plodding along alone. Just as we passed him I was taken with an idea and I told Winsell to stop. I was tired of trafficking with stupid villagers and avaricious land-grabbers. I would deal with the peasantry direct. I would sound the yeoman heart—which is honest and true and ever beats in accord with the best dictates of human nature.
“My friend,” I said to him, “I am seeking an abandoned farm. Do you know of many such in this vicinity?”
Source: Gutenberg

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