MEMORIES OF THE 



mowers. It was an advancement and recognition of manhood, 

 to reach which he would work beyond his strength and punish 

 himself severely. Of course, John got into this "man" class 

 first, and the spreading became still more distasteful and dis- 

 agreeable to me. Instead of growing better at it I grew worse, 

 throwing it in chunks and heaps, and when reproved, claiming I 

 could do it no better and keep up. This occasionally resulted 

 in father sending John or some of the lightest mowers to help 

 me out — a shift they enjoyed, as it rested them. John was a 

 good mower, and always could better sharpen his scythe than I. 

 He was what was called a natural, easy mower, but at his age, 

 and even before, I was fully as strong as he and more conceited. 

 Nevertheless, the fact that I mowed narrow and lopped in and 

 out too much, caused me more frequently to be sent to the house 

 for water, to catch the horses and bring them from the pasture, 

 to turn the cheese, or on other errands which some one had to 

 do. These special details were very acceptable about half-past 

 ten or eleven o'clock. 



We mowed lowery days and in "ketching weather," and when 

 we got too much down and the weather was fair, we drew it into 

 the barn forenoons as well as afternoons. Very frequently more 

 would be cut than could be cured and drawn the same day or 

 before it got wet — a thing which gave rise to that homely but 

 significant farmer's expression, with reference to self-imposed 

 difficulties, "He has got down more hay than he can get up." 



The afternoons in fair weather were usually devoted to raking 

 and drawing the hay to the barn. During my boyhood days and 

 while I remained on the farm, the raking was done with an old- 

 fashioned revolving wooden rake. It answered the purpose very 

 well, and was better for the meadows than the wire-tooth rake, 

 and with it and a smart walking horse a man or quite a small 



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