THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 169 



we are going to have a " leetle " dancing party, and 

 they have been hard at preparatory work all day. 

 Oneself is angry, but tied her eat, so that the juveniles 

 have a fair prospect of being ultimately triumphant. 

 Even as I write, however, there is a consternated close 

 cry of " Eliza ! Eliza ! Eliza-a-a ! " as the shrewd 

 attendant hath turned the light off, and plentifully 

 applied "cold pig." Pig ! that recalls one to the farm 

 again, and the thought of water, too, is suggestive. I 

 have been the main part of this day with a home-made 

 implement tapping weak spots, in anticipation of a 

 Norton's pump, that I expect to arrive to-morrow. We 

 have repeatedly struck water, but as repeatedly been 

 stumped out. There is 



" "Water, water everywhere, 

 Nor any drop to drink." 



We strike a sandbed, and the mixture chokes the 

 valves. We draw forth the pipe by dint of lever, 

 empty it on its head of a good thick sedimentary gallon, 

 replace it in its hole, and, still most obstinate, it refuses 

 to yield water. The pulling up and down hath made a 

 puddle of the sides, and again suffocating results ! 

 Then we get dismayed and despair of gaining our object 

 from this slough. So we strike down a crowbar anew, 

 and come thud, thump, upon a rock, a soft sandstone 

 layer, through which we drive the bar without much 

 difficulty ; and then underneath occurs a bed of marl, 

 which fills the perforations of the pipe ; and so we are 

 effectually done, as we have no further length at hand. 

 There is no alternative but to desist, and await the 

 arrival of the genuine article by rail from the Birming- 

 ham agents. 



