64 CHRONICLES OF A CLAY FARM. 



head of the ancient, and old Jethro lull himself 

 would have envied me the delight of seeing the work 

 of comminution and perfect intermixture which its 

 magic transit left behind it. Never was there such a 

 sagacious or relentless old tyrant in dealing with a 

 clod, as this same Crosskill, for so it shall be named, 

 and right deservedly. If he can't crush it with his 

 elephant foot, he takes it up secundum artem as a 

 mastiff would a bone, and gives it a squeeze with 

 his iron teeth ; and if that won't do, why then like 

 a bull he tosses it over, and gores it with the next 

 revolution. Clever must be the lump that, after one 

 or two such embraces, escapes with its integrity less 

 broken than to the exemplar of a handful of Walnuts. 



Then came a nameless implement of private use and 

 manufacture a mysterious compound breed, with a 

 grubber for its sire, and an iron hay-rake for its dam, 

 to lift and re-expose the crushed and stifled soil ; and 

 then the large and heavy roller to crack the Walnuts ; 

 and then 



(Even in the most fertile districts the Grass crop 

 had been short the previous summer ; the quantity of 

 manure was therefore small, and the quality, on a 

 farm that had never borne a Turnip !) 



" Shall we begin the ridging up for the Swedes to- 

 morrow ?" quoth the bailiff. 



