There is not much left for her to experiment with.

The goat surreptitiously nibbling the valuable shrubs outside the palings is a member of a flock that once seemed to promise fair.

Goats at one time (she was persuaded) were the means of ready wealth--they could live anywhere, on anything (the shrubs to wit), and yielded such rich milk; it far surpassed that of the shorthorn; there was the analysis to prove it! Such milk must of course be worth money, beside which there were the kids, and the cheese and butter.
Alas! the goats quickly obtained so evil a reputation, worse than that of the rabbits for biting off the shooting vegetation, that no one would have them on the land.

The milk was all the analysis declared it, but in that outlying village, which did not contain two houses above the quality of a farmstead, there was no one to buy it.

There was a prejudice against the butter which could not be got over; and the cheese--well, the cheese resembled a tablet of dark soap.