86 FARMING IT 



ner that so many years before had proved disas- 

 trous to me when as a boy we raced the minister. 

 As I went over Great Bridge, white-robed figures 

 leaned from the windows, evidently thinking that 

 either Paul Revere or the headless horseman was 

 once more on the war-path. 



By the mile stretch on Hampton Road we 

 swept like a simoom, when, as my flying steed was 

 somewhat winded, I pulled her to half-speed and 

 turned down the long hill leading to Kensington. 



Although the distance was about four miles 

 from my house, I did the same in what I believe 

 to be record time, and arrived astride my foaming 

 charger and still clinging to the hoe which had 

 been the chief cause of her mad flight. 



I aroused my farmer friend from his beauty 

 sleep, much to his disgust, and after breakfast- 

 ing with him went to the corn-field and there 

 wrought manfully throughout the day. Although 

 I had the advantage of my friend in many ways, 

 he being a small man and fully twice my age, 

 yet I was put to great straits to keep up with him, 

 and when supper-time came was tremendously 

 fagged. After supper, when I was contemplating a 

 leisurely and pleasant ride home, a terrific thun- 

 der-storm came up, and I dashed home in the al- 

 ternating glare and blackness of a summer storm 

 in somewhat less time than I went over. My load, 

 however, was lighter, for I thought both hands 



