OLD HOMESTEAD 



nearly done. We wanted to finish Friday, if possible, and go 

 fishing Saturday with Albert Betts, a young schoolmate who was 

 coming from Pulaski for that purpose. He intended to take us 

 back with him as school opened the next Monday. 



The hay was all cut except four acres of the cradle-knoll 

 meadow next to Elder Wilcox's line, which was new-seeded tim- 

 othy grass, standing up tall but not thick — perhaps a ton and a 

 half or so to the acre. John and I and Leander Fox, a neigh- 

 bor's boy who worked that season for father, were the working 

 force. At half-past three mother called us, and we went to the 

 field. We hung our scythes well out so that we could mow 

 wide. Father had ground them nice and sharp the night before. 

 We started in at a good, sharp clip and kept it up, carrying our 

 swaths, which enabled us to get a breathing spell as we walked 

 back. At half-past six we had the four-acre field all down, just 

 as mother came out on the great big rock under the cherry tree 

 and blew the horn for breakfast. As soon as we were through 

 with breakfast we went back to the meadow and opened up the 

 two or three acres of cocked-up hay which was cut the day 

 before, and at half-past eight or nine o'clock began drawing. 



Father did the raking and ''tumbling" with the horse-rake. 

 Leander and I pitched on, and John, who was always the best 

 at that, did the loading. Raking-after was left to be done with 

 the horse-rake next day. It was the last of haying, we were 

 hardened to it and had our second wind, and hustled all day. 

 We changed off in pitching and mowing away, so as to utilize 

 the very best efforts of all. 



Mother caught the spirit of the rest, and never failed to have 

 a big pitcher of cold drink of some kind ready as we drove in 

 and out. Nooning was made short, and the team went from the 

 barn to the meadow every time on a good, sharp trot. At dark 



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