176 CHRONICLES OF A CLAY FARM. 



" So we 're not to have a Steam-Plough, then, after 

 all eh, sir ?" he at last began. " Well, I 've heerd 

 talk of it so long that I hardly know whether I 'm 

 glad or sorry. But, lor' blesh ye, you go too fast : 

 the Plough 's too old a stager to be got rid of that 

 way. Steam I do suppose it will be some day : there 

 I suppose you 're right enough. But if we 're to wait 

 till this what-d'ye-call-it, French-revolution sort of 

 thing, well I beg pardon this merry-go-round 

 Conundrum o ? yours [Well, well ! whatever it is, then] 

 is brought to pass, why, it's like waiting for two 

 things instead o' one. No, no! ploughing it must 

 be : it is, however, a'ready ! for I hear talk o' one or 

 two people as are trying it on. There 's some lord, 

 I forget his name, has written a book all about it, 

 with a picture a yard long, where it's all at work 

 as nice as can be; an engine at each end, and the 

 ploughs a-drawing away in the middle. He 's afore 

 you, entirely; for there it is, actshally a-ploughing 

 with common ploughs in the book." 



"Listen to me, you old perversity. I have seen 

 that 'book' as you call it. The pamphlet reached 

 me long before you saw it ; but not till long after the 

 idea it pourtrays had been as familiar as an old family - 

 picture to my mind's eye, and banished, in its turn, 



