BOYHOOD. 15 



tunately not sitting on the table as was their usual 

 custom. I believe one of them fainted, and the 

 other was driven crazy for a time, and no wonder. 

 Surely a merciful Providence overruled our monstrous 

 folly. 



HARVEST HOME. 



The day on which the last load was carried home 

 was always one of festivity in the old home. I catch 

 a glimpse of it now, and it is like taking a peep 

 at another world and another stage of existence, as 

 I see the men at a table the full length of a large 

 kitchen twenty or twenty-five of them as jolly as 

 men could be. They had put themselves outside of 

 the best part of a four-year-old wether, a large round 

 of beef, and puddings and pies galore, with good 

 cider to match. The dinner being over, we youngsters 

 were allowed to go into the kitchen to hear the 

 singing. 



My father took the head of the table, made a short 

 speech, and then called upon old Joe Hammond, the 

 head waggoner, for a song ; but Joe, too modest to 

 begin, begged to be excused, hoped Maister would 

 set them all an example, and he would try what he 

 could do later on. " Maister " stood up at once, and 

 started with a song of which the refrain was : 



" Like a fine old English gentleman, 

 All of the olden time." 



Another of his songs began something like this : 



" My friend is the man I would copy through life 

 He envies no mortal, he harbours no strife," etc. 



