196 CHRONICLES OF A CLAY FARM. 



I suspect, and interpreted too, after his own fashion, 

 every word I had said and read to him. For, after 

 our late-described interviews, his ' trespasses,' as he 

 called them, on my Farm became more and more fre- 

 quent. Whether it was that he thought the demerits 

 and deficiencies of the plough were more strikingly 

 to be seen and freely studied upon my soil than on his 

 own, or whether he reckoned upon the chance of hear- 

 ing them more boldly outspoken, I will not attempt 

 to decide : but for some reason or other I soon found 

 him a frequent, and by degrees a more (so to speak) 

 long-winded listener. Not a week had elapsed after 

 our last conversation, when a rainy day drove him 

 into my den for shelter, and as ready a prey as any 

 beast that ever roamed the wilds of agricultural 

 theory could desire. 



* I'm afeard,' he began, after ensconcing himself in 

 the very same chair, with one of the very same cigars, 

 opposite the same fireplace, and in precisely the same 

 attitude ' I'm afeard it won't leave off for some 

 time. I should like to hear you out, Sir, about that 

 Steam-ploughing I beg pardon Steam not-plough- 

 ing " cultivation " anything you like to call it, 

 that you was on about the other day. I don't know 

 how it is, but it seems to haunt me like. You've done 



