A Farmer’s Life 
Besides, with the proceeds from the small milk- 
trade, the interest from the sale of his stock, and 
the scanty pension from a society he had belonged 
to for years, both ends could be made to meet 
if he lived frugally; and he wanted no more. 
On these terms he arranged to leave the farm and 
live in a semi-detached cottage just across the 
road. 
My last visit to him at the farm, a few days 
before he moved, ought perhaps to have stirred 
keener emotions in me than in faét it did. Al- 
though I might traverse the fields or look on 
at the milking again, and even in his company, 
yet never again would it be with him as master ; 
and it made all the difference. From his own 
temper (I see it now) a sort of calm—like the 
calm of a Sunday afternoon—had associated 
itself in my thoughts with those pastures. He 
had no notion of it; but comfortableness came 
from him whatever he did, and clung to his talk 
whatever he said. For example, his whimsical 
tones enriched, and endeared to my memory, 
a brief answer he made when I asked him how 
he kept his knife so sharp. He was bringing 
the cows in across his pastures for milking; he 
wanted a certain fence-rail taken down—uit had 
been tied up with strong string—and he fetched 
out his pocket-knife and cut the string apparently 
without effort. How did he keep his knife 
112 
