64 CHRONICLES OF A CLAY FARM. 



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 artein 

 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 Straw crop 

 had been short the previous year : the manure was 

 therefore small in bulk, 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. 



