THE AMERICAN FARMER. 41 



trying to stifle a fit of inward laughter — not at my own words, 

 but at the effect I knew they were producing — and walked 

 away. I turned once only, and saw him leaning on his spade 

 and looking after me. I can give you his soliloquy, for it was 

 written upon his attitude, like the lettering of a picture. ' Well ! 

 If that don't beat every thing.' " 



And then the author relates his "victory — more glorious than 

 any field of Alma, or Balaklava, or Inkermann, for it was a 

 bloodless one. He had redeemed a piece of unproductive land, 

 and had given to the world a fine productive farm, capable of 

 filling hundreds of hungry mouths with the best of food. He 

 finally, in a quiet but humorous strain relates, principally in 

 bits of conversation, his well-won triumph over his practical 

 neighbors, as he pointed to his fields of turnips and golden 

 waving wheat, — not only equal, but superior to those on other 

 farms which were esteemed among the best in the land. I can- 

 not forbear giving you one more page from the little book, 

 before parting with it : — 



" Spring came at last ; beautiful spring, that fills the old 

 heart with youth, and softens down to a more genial and hopeful 

 tone the frosts and snows that reign within, as without, through 

 dreary winter. Certain reports respecting the field which had 

 been drained, and so curiously ' top-dressed,' had from time to 

 time altered the current of public opinion that hitherto was so 

 strongly all one way. The under-wagoner had told somebody 

 that the snow had disappeared on that field much sooner than 

 from any other. This had been repeated in equal confidence 

 from mouth to mouth, with the addition that the clay had 

 ' kicked down to ashes.' But what topped every thing was, that 

 before even bean-sowing had begun, the motley close was re- 

 ported ' as dry as a bone.' The harrow is certainly not the 

 most ingenious or perfect of agricultural implements ; but, 

 never was a more surprising feat performed by any, than was 

 witnessed one fine morning early in March, when it was ordered 

 over the field afore-mentioned. Down went the clay, sand, peat 

 and every thing else — 



" Black spirits and white, 



Blue spirits and gray, 



Mingle, mingle, mingle. 



Ye that mingle may." 



