AN OLD-STYLE FARM. 13 



I coine back to the old farm, with its meagre 

 stock and its wide acres. Of course there was some- 

 thing to be sold. Farmers never get on without that. 

 First of all, came the " veals " selling in that day 

 for some two cents a pound, live weight. (They now 

 sell in the New York market for ten.) This bridged 

 over the spring costs, until the butter came from the 

 first growth of the pastures. 



How well I remember tossing myself from bed 

 at an hour before sunrise (Seth by previous orders 

 having the horse and wagon ready), and by candle- 

 light seeing to the packing of the spring butter the 

 firkins being enwrapped in dewy grass, fresh cut 

 and then setting forth upon the long drive (twelve 

 miles) to the nearest market town. What a drive it 

 was ! Five miles on, I saw the early people stirring 

 and staring at me, as they washed their faces in the 

 basin at the well. Then came woods, and silence, but 

 a strange odorous freshness in the air possibly some 

 near coal-pit gave its kreosotic fumes, not unpleasant ; 

 some owl, in the swamps I passed, lifted its melancholy 

 hoot ; further on I saw some early riser driving his 

 cows to pasture ; still further I caught sight of chil- 

 dren at play before some farm-house door, and the 

 sun being fairly risen, I knew their breakfasts were 

 waiting them within. 



After this, I passed occasional teams upon the 



