132 NOTES ON FIELDS AND CATTLE. 



— " Yes." But oh, I did not say how nervous, I did 

 not tell how hard I felt my heart thump as down 

 went the cutting bar with the horses' second step. 

 Round go the fans again, rattle — wish — rattle — we 

 are advancing ; hurrah ! sure enough we are ad- 

 vancing ! Fletcher stalks silent beside the team, and 

 as I dare to turn my head there is a track, not trodden 

 down, not torn up, but a smooth broad stream of un- 

 mistakeably shorn grass, fallen, spread out as it fell, 

 with its face to the foe. It is my turn to glory now, 

 but with the prudence of an old hand I refrain, and 

 " the boldest held his breath for a time." The rustics 

 have followed from curiosit}', and are clearing it off 

 with their hands to examine the work done. " No 

 mistake there, Fletcher, is there ? " I challenge, as I 

 pull up the horses for a moment. " None at all, sir ; 

 it acts beautifully." " Rather high cut, is it not ! " 

 — " It is that, sir ; but we mustn't complain." " You 

 could beat it with the scythe, eh, Fletcher ? " — " Yes, 

 sir, we could ; it would have no chance with the old 

 fashion, would it, Fred ? " Fred responds only with 

 a leer, and moves off. However, now, after one cut 

 round a good-sized square plot, I found that I could 

 manage very well by myself, so the men were de- 

 spatched to other employment, to cut and carry 

 vetches, to the mangold-field, and elsewhere. 



The machine went now famously without a stop- 

 page. At each corner we drove out clear, having 

 then to back partly round, so as to be square with 

 the next cut. I took this opportunity occasionally of 

 oiling the bearings. We got on now smoothly enough, 

 so that by dinner-time there was a good broad plot 



