128 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



Burney and Company, and hope by consequence hence- 

 forth to render my dry side-lands more prohfic of 

 mutton. 



November, 1867. 



" Really how time does pass," remarked my charming 

 sister-in-law (who has come to us for a visit) just now ! 



" Of course it does," I replied, " or how else could I 

 have this dear little tit of a niece asking * Terries, 

 pease, untie,' meaning grape-berries all the while, 

 although she would (but for a fault of enunciation) 

 have termed them cherries, when this said niece was, 

 as the racing men say, nowhere not so many months or 

 years ago ? " 



Anyhow it's no good philosophising after one's with- 

 drawal from acquaintance with the University, where 

 such studies not only lent to the passing hour the 

 charm of that highest mortal pleasure, keen intellec- 

 tual entertainment, but further fitted the mind, through 

 practice, for gladiatorial contest with the world's craft. 



" If you don't take care, young man, you'll be pretty 

 soon out of your depth," I hear some dreadful voice (it 

 might be one's wife) behind me exclaim. So I think 

 too ; and before I go further, would simply remark, en 

 passant — having had the idea awakened — that if ever 

 youthful agriculturist (for such only we write) should 

 wish to cross a river by swimming, there not being a 

 bridge in the vicinity to help you, and you should have 

 to carry a gun across, or some such load as you may 

 desire not to wet, just throw your handkerchief over 

 the hollow of your hat, and tie the four ends under- 

 neath. Hold on by. the knot, and you wilffind your- 

 self sustained in the stream as by a buoy. 



