134 CHRONICLES OF A CLAY FARM. 



century's experience of the words * IN THE SWEAT 



OF THY FACE SHALT THOU EAT BREAD ! ' Yet 



not complainingly : too truthfully and heart-whole 

 for that. 



No answer came. The ash-stick went on steadily : 

 and the spur ; for the tail performed the part of 

 index a true tell-taz7, swishing and signalizing to 

 each application of the blunt rowel upon the same 

 spot, grown horny and resistful under its influence. 

 The mouth that had spoken dropped into the neck- 

 warmer again and the kind but care-full eye looked 

 straight forward, with its fellow, into the early 

 morning fog that lay upon the road and fields, and 

 dripped upon the hedges, where the gossamer had 

 hung its tiny tissue, waiting patiently for Sunrise. 

 Click, click, click, click, went the aggravating off- 

 side hind-shoe, for half a mile nearly, before another 

 word was spoken. 



' Any chance of its rising again, d'ye think, Sir?' 



Still no answer. The question could not have 



applied to the Sun, for his red merry countenance 



was already beginning to peep, immensely large, 



over hill, like some welcome-faced friend, half 



behind the door, glowing with the knowledge how 

 the heart of him, or her, who sits within will rush 



