330 Animal Life 
local weather prophet that it was only the “pride of the morning,’ so about 11.30 
found me and the necessary camera crossmg the “big ground.” he dinner-hour 
commenced at 12 o'clock; but, im spite of the weather prophet, by that time the elements 
had made up their minds that it was a suitable date for a spell of wet. The camera, 
wrapped in its velvet cloth, was placed in the hedge, whilst the ox-man, boy and myself 
crouched under the bushiest part. The wind blew in anery gusts; the rain found its 
way in cold streams down the backs of our necks; meanwhile the good red earth got 
darker and darker, and clouds of steam rose from the hot bodies of the span—a span 
that absolutely refused to lie down. 
To pass the time, I asked the ox-man if his charges were always as quiet and 
docile as they appeared to the onlooker. He looked far away to the beyond, and pulled 
thoughtfully at his pipe for a time; then he remarked: “Theym funny creturs to 
brek in.” “Tell me an experience,” I suggested. So this is how I came to hear about 
the breaking of the white ox :— 
“T mind as if “twor yes’day,’ began the ox-man. “’T'was just such a marnin’ as 
this un. We'd been gentling and mussing wi’ Joseph—that’s the white un—for weeks; 
kind o’ preparin’ ‘im. We borrowed a man or two to lend a ’and.” 
“Them wor Gearge Jones and John Iles,” interpolated the boy at this point—now 
the name of the ox-boy was Bill. 
“So um wor,” continued the man. ‘“ Well, we got un up to the plough pretty fair 
easy, and ‘arnessed un—you see we'd mussed ‘im smairtish—but when we came to start 
un, why, then the ploy begun! There were a trained ox afore an’ another beyind; but 
didn’t make a morsel o’ difference, for that little white devil simply dragged ’em both 
‘cross ground for matter of a ‘undered yards and then—what do you think?—e lay 
down! We tried saft sawder, an coaxin’, an’ “ittin’, an’ punchin’, an’ thumpin’, but 
‘tworn’t no manner o’ use—for ’e just lay and snarted and rolled un’s eyes—so at larst 
TURNING THE PLOUGH. 
