270 AROUND AN OLD HOMESTEAD. 



and tangled before you get through, and perhaps the 

 mowing machine itself will get into bad order. 



Sometimes a turtle or two will be found amongst 

 the clover, or a snake is cut to pieces in the hayfield. 

 I know of a man who cut off the heads of two big 

 black snakes in a small field, unintentionally, with the 

 knife of his mower. They were lying coiled in the 

 clover, with their heads raised a little, and the Jugger- 

 naut came along and slivered them. Sometimes a dog 

 will come too close, as he bounds about after a rabbit, 

 and perhaps he will be badly mangled, and may have 

 to be killed. 



It is quite a trick to know how to pitch hay, and 

 to gather all into one bunch clean with a fork, without 

 the necessity of a hand-rake following; and it is an 

 even greater trick to load the hay properly, so that it 

 will not slide off on side-hills ; and a still greater one to 

 form and top off a stack. Mowing away is not such 

 an art, nor is the boys' job of treading the hay down — 

 but ah ! brethren, many a drop of genuine sweat has 

 glistened in the hayfield and the loft. If there is a 

 time when a man can enjoy a refreshing drink from 

 the bucket at the well, it Is after pitching off a load of 

 hay. So, sings Woodworth, In the well-known lines: 



"That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure; 

 For often at noon, when returned from the field, 

 I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure — 

 The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. 

 How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, 

 And quick to. the white-pebbled bottom it fell! 

 Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, 

 And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well — 

 The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. 

 The moss-covered bucket, arose from the well." 



