70 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



sixty years of age ; while, in the event of his death 

 before that period, his family will reap the benefit at 

 once. I allow him to exhibit — retaining just an ulti- 

 mate voice — what he pleases, but without waste, as I 

 ascertain for myself from the corn and cake book. The 

 policy premiums annually he must pay from money won 

 as prizes, or, that being insufficient, out of his private 

 pocket. The consequence is that my stock is always in ex- 

 cellent condition, and the prizes taken make a good slice. 



Another extension of this principle to the affa'rs of 

 the farm is to make a pig at Christmas a part of the 

 bailiff's wages — the least of the fattening pigs. The 

 obvious consequence of this will be that he takes care 

 that the whole lot are made as big as they can be. And, 

 now, sir, for your story. I shall be much obliged to any 

 gentle reader for a hint as to further use of this be- 

 lauded system. 



My bailiff and an assistant labourer have been busy 

 the liveloDg day in renewing the pile of heaped-up 

 brushwood beside the pool, where our pet wild-ducks 

 make their nests every year ; and I am glad to say 

 that the dear, grateful little creatures show an evident 

 and admiring appreciation of the service. There 

 have been a series of graceful minuets upon the water, 

 the sober-tinted matron bowing coyly to her mate, who 

 bowed again. One or two, moreover, I have seen 

 attended, clearly, by fond swain, ati'ectedly inspecting 

 the interior of the dead-leaf-carpeted recesses between 

 the twisted tree trunks that were laid to keep the 

 mass of superincumbent hedge-clippings from pressing 

 quite to the ground — inspecting, as engaged young 

 ladies might a block of houses, with an earnest quasi- 

 business air that they believe to be profoundly effective, 



I 



