172 CHRONICLES OF A CLAY FARM. 



* What, ashamed o' the Plough ! O dear, dear ! 

 Well, I aint, and never was, nor never shall be, 

 neither, that's more.'' 



* Too much, a little. How do you know you 

 never will be ? ' 



' Not, however, till something Oh, ho ! I 



know now what you're after. You're a-driving 

 now \ Ay, ay ! Now I think of it they tell me 

 you're always a-driving somehow against the plough. 

 Well, what's the matter with it ? So long as it's a 

 good un, mind ! Come now, I should like to hear 

 from your own lips what you've got to say agin' it. 

 I can not understand them books, so it's no use 

 trying ; and I do try, that's a fact ; but as sure as I 

 get half-way down a page I go to sleep. A lot 

 o' Chemistry and stuff! I'll back common sense 

 agin' Chemistry any day. But I should like just to 

 hear you on a bit about the plough I think I 

 could understand that; but you must please keep 

 the words close-cropped, you know, no raspers ! 

 A farmer's words should be like his hedges, I always 

 think, plain and short and smooth-like, and not 

 too many of 'em ! and then they may help to ' fill 

 the bushel ' after all, p'rhaps. But about the plough 

 beg pardon you was a-saying something 



