10 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



Janvxiry, 1866. 



Rat-a-tat I rat-a-tat ! on the round pebble pave- 

 ment with the ashen tail of a pitchfork ; the remon- 

 strative query then jerked out from a very low depth 

 in his throat by a short chubby lad — age unknown — 

 " Now what the mischief are ye after ? " followed imme- 

 diately by the vision of a large sandy Sk3'e scuttering 

 up the yard with his tail close packed behind, in mortal 

 terror of a being whom he regarded only as his too 

 harsh washerwoman, upon occasion of orders from " the 

 missus ; " young Breeches being convulsed meanwhile 

 with laughter at his ' enemy's discomfiture. Such was 

 the complication when we appeared around the comer, 

 in search of a marvellous sample of winter oats that we 

 had heard of, and which we wished to obtain the like 

 of, for sowing. 



" Hallo, Bundles, where's your master ? " 



"Guvnor, sir? — ^just gone out; here 'mediately, sir," 

 replied our friend, with finger to his cap ; and at once 

 he was hissing most earnestly, as though nothing had 

 happened within the month to disturb his equanimity, 

 over the hind legs of a huge black carriage-horse, whose 

 downset ears told of tricks played off when he was left 

 to the lonely mercies of our young Pickle. 



Save me, say I, from a lad in the stable, unless there 

 be a head groom, most smart and steady, over him. 



The oats were certainly a glorious sample ; but, on 

 further thought, we decided to put barley in when the 

 spring comes round instead, as it will give us one more 

 chance of annihilating what couch sprouts may have 

 foxed, and yet be living in the fallow, the cleaning of 

 which we wrote about in our last. 



The uncertainty of the root crop has been great in 



