182 CHRONICLES OF A CLAY FARM. 



little understood, and caring little to be so. I knew 

 that he would be ' asleep ' during my sermon * on culti- 

 vation :' and he knew that I knew it ; and would not 

 have been awake under the infliction of so many long 

 words for his life and character's sake. But to sleep 

 without an eye or ear left for sentry-duty that was 

 far from Benjamin Greening. And I, for my part, 

 was satisfied with my audience ; the more so, because 

 I knew that I should find in him an objector, who 

 would not fail to start every difficulty which feigned, 

 ignorance, or practical knowledge, was likely to 

 suggest. 



Mr. Greening, however, was taken with a long fit 

 of silence. Luncheon came and went ; and that pre- 

 occupying subject he discussed amply and seriatim 

 in all its branches : but I could see that my dose was 

 not inoperative. The vindication of his old friend 

 the Plough was hot within him, the while ; struggling 

 only with a curiosity to hear the translation into plain 

 English that I had promised him; and which, he 

 knew, would open plenty of points of attack more 

 assailable than the compact and synthetical phalanx 

 of long words he had interrupted so opportunely at 

 * the stones.' 



