THE FARM SUNDAY 83 



off to the sheds to get the horses, and the 

 women chat while they wait. Then the 

 teams come up, as many as the roadway will 

 hold, and there is the bustle of departure, 

 the taking of seats, the harsh grinding of 

 wheels against the wagon body as the driver 

 &quot;cramps&quot; to turn round, then good-byes, and 

 one after another the teams start off, out into 

 the open country for another week of quiet, 

 busy farm life. 



Yes, church is distinctively a social affair, 

 and very delightful, and when our cows and 

 hens and calves and other &quot;critters&quot; do not 

 prevent, we are glad to have our part in it all. 

 When they do, we yet feel that we have a share 

 in it simply through seeing &quot;the folks&quot; go by. 

 It is a distinct pleasure to see our neighbors 

 trundling along towards the village. And 

 then, if luck has been against us and we can 

 not join them, it is a pleasure to lie in the 

 grass and listen to the quiet. After the last 

 church-goers have passed, the road is deserted 

 for two hours, until they begin to return. The 

 neighboring farms are quiet, the &quot;folks&quot; are 

 away, or, if some of the men are at home, they 

 are sitting on their doorsteps smoking. 



