OR, WITH BRAINS, SIR. 291 



Beyond the turnips are the early potatoes, and among them 

 the reddish-green leaves of the beets are spreading over th,e 

 ground, and filling all the spare room. Lastly, is the empty 

 space where we began to plant the beans. They never came 

 up at all. On digging a few up to see what was the matter, 

 we found the seed quite mouldy and dead. We had lost our 

 labor and the seed by planting too early. The spring rains 

 having beaten the soil down hard, Robert and Mr. Kempen- 

 fielder are at work upon it with a horse and light plough. 

 Mr. Kempenfielder is leading the horse, and Robert holds 

 the plough. They have stopped to turn at the end of the 

 field. 



" You have held a plough before, aint you?" 



" Never touched one before," said Robert. 



" You can't tell me that. You hold it as if you had done 

 so a year." 



" Do I? It is only because I imitated you as nearly as I 

 could. This is my first lesson in ploughing." 



" Then you beat all I ever see. My boy Tom took mor'n 

 a month to learn to plough." 



" How so ? Was he not a bright boy ? " 



" Bright as a dollar ; but somehow he never could seem 

 to give his mind to it. He was always a-reading books and 

 wanting to go to sea." 



"Did you let him go?" 



