130 HAPPY HOLLOW FARM 



he criticized. "You-all's cattle could git a 

 heap o' pickin' off that grass. Ain't you-uns 

 goin' to use it fer nothin' at all?" 



Good old Jake! He's dead now. We've 

 wondered what he thinks of the New Jerusa- 

 lem, with all its flagrant exhibit of glories that 

 the pigs and mules can't eat. 



We've kept steadily at work upon our house 

 grounds through these years, grubbing, hack- 

 ing, trimming, setting hedges and rose gar- 

 dens, doing most of it with our own hands. 

 We've never found anybody to work at that 

 job comprehendingly. 



Our field work, though, went ahead in that 

 year under full steam. Looking over the old 

 fields after the spring plowing, when the effect 

 of the last year's work could be judged, I had 

 my first real thrill of satisfaction as a farmer. 

 Even in a twelvemonth our handling of the 

 soil had told immeasurably. Instead of the 

 tenant's three- or four-inch furrows, that did 

 no more than break the surface into clods, we 

 had turned six-inch furrows last year, and con- 

 tinual timely harrowing and cultivating had 

 put our soil into far better mechanical condi- 

 tion than it had ever known. It wasn't as we 

 wanted it yet, by a long shot ; but we had some- 



