192 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST, 
[Mat, 
The Long; Saturday Afternoon. 
The title above is the name the artist gives to the pic¬ 
ture. Boys, don’t you think that the artist has “been 
there ? ”—Can you conceive of any more irksome posi¬ 
tion than that of the youngster turning away at the 
THE LANTERN FLY.— (See page 191.) 
grindstone, knowing that all the while his playmates are 
waiting outside for him to join them in a game or in a 
ramble through the woods? “It’s mean, that’s just 
what it is, to make that boy turn the grindstone,” do 
some of you say ? Now that is not what the picture is 
given you for, and we do not wish to encourage any such 
feeling as that. “ Is there any thing meaner than turn¬ 
ing a grindstone ? Yes, there are a great many things 
meaner. It would have been 
much meaner for the boy, when 
he saw his father coming with 
the ax, to slink away and get 
out of sight, shirk the work 
instead of standing up to it 
manfully, if it is disagreeable, 
as this sturdy youngster is 
doing. We agree, because we 
know from experience, that 
turning a grindstone is irk¬ 
some, and if the tool is dull, 
and is held on hard, it is far 
from being easy work. Still 
every farmer’s boy almost, has 
some time or other to do it. If 
it would take a hired man from 
his work, and perhaps leave a 
team standing idle at a time 
when every hour was precious, 
wouldn’t you volunteer to turn 
the stone, and feel that you 
were being useful? In this 
world everybody who is of 
any use in it has to work in 
some way or another, and while 
turning the stone is not the 
kind of work one would choose, 
somebody has to do it, and the 
boy who can help the work of 
the farm go on regularly, is in 
part repaying the many things 
that are done for him. Why 
not turn the grindstone ? Look 
at that little chunk of a fellow; 
he has no doubt arms that are 
hard and strong, and would tell 
in a rough and tumble play 
against a much larger boy. 
Many a city youngster who is 
lank, thin, and flabby, has sev¬ 
eral dollars a month paid for 
him that he may go to a gym¬ 
nasium, where he can pull at 
weights, and climb a rope to 
try to get some exercise, and 
all this is probably done at the 
top of some high building, 
where there is poor air and not 
very good light. Here is this 
boy having his gymnasium all 
for nothing, and his exercise is 
doing some good; besides, he 
has the free air, the bright sun¬ 
light, the smell of the hay in 
the barn, and of the flowers 
without; the birds are singing, 
fowls cackling, crickets chirping, and all is so different 
from the city, that the boy is “getting up his muscle” 
under conditions that money cannot buy. “ But it is so 
tiresome, there is so much sameness about it, turn, turn, 
turn, and one turn just like another.”—Well, can’t ypu 
think ? To most kinds of work you must give both your 
body, and your mind, but in turning, you need only give 
your body. Main strength is all that is needed. The 
next time you turn the stone, see if you cannot so occupy 
yourself that the work will not seem irksome. You 
might count how many turns you make, that would be 
better than nothing, but not very instructive.—“ But 
what can one think of when he turns a grindstone ? ”— 
Well, suppose you begin with the grindstone itself. “ A 
stone, but not like most other stones, a kind of sand¬ 
stone called grit. Now we know that all sand and peb¬ 
bles must once have been parts of a solid rock, ages and 
ages ago this rock must have been broken up by ice or 
fire or ground up somehow,into little grains of sand ; then 
these grains must have been carried along a rapid stream 
to a still place where they settled ; then, oh how long 
ago! this water disappeared, and there was the-sandy 
mud which grew harder and harder, it may be by pres¬ 
sure over it, but it was so many thousand years ago no¬ 
body can tell, and at last it was hard as we see it now. 
Every sand-stone is not a “grit,” and will not do for 
grindstones. Only that from very hard rock will answer. 
Then some one discovered the quarry, and such a drilling 
and blasting, such a hammering and pecking to get it 
out! It may have been in Ohio, or perhaps in Nova 
Scotia, for those are the two great places for these stones, 
somebody got this one out, and after a while it got here, 
and here it is, and I turn, turn, turn.”_“I wonder 
what it all does. I turn the stone, the stone sharpens 
the ax—as I turn, turn, turn. Oh I know, the Doctor 
talked about particles, and there are too many particles 
of steel around the edge of that ax, and I must knock 
them away with the hard particles of sand of the grind¬ 
stone. As I turn a particle of sand hits a particle of 
steel and off it goes—turn, there go some more ; turn, 
turn, turn—whew how the little bits of steel get away 
from the edge of that ax ; let's give em some more, 
THE LONG SATURDAY AFTERNOON. 
turn, turn, turn, that’s it old fellow. You grindstone 
just do your part and I’ll show you the virtue of grass 
and grain—yes, grass and grain. Didn’t the ox eat grass 
and grain, and didu’t I have a beefsteak for dinner, and 
isn’t the grass and grain making a revolution with this 
grindstone. Hurrah for science, it tells all about turn¬ 
ing grindstones and the revolution of the earth on its 
axis. I wonder what turns that, it must be a big job.”.... 
“ Splash ! now 1 don’t want the water coming at me at 
that rate. Wonder what they use water on the grind¬ 
stones for at all ? It makes a muss. Didn’t the stone 
get wet enough while it was being made ? Let’s see. I 
THE death’s-head moth.— (See page 191.) 
tried to grind my jack-knife one day with a dry stone, 
and didn’t I make the sparks fly ; my knife turned all 
sorts of colors, and John said I had heated and taken the 
temper all out of it. I know it was never good for any¬ 
thing after that. Oh, I know, they put the water on to 
keep the ax from getting heated and spoiled, as I turn, 
turn, turn.. .1 wonder where that heat comes from- 
“ That’ll do, my boy, you never turned so \fell before.”— 
“ Yes, and I haven’t half got through with the grind¬ 
stone story,” you think. You 
see it was a kind of work that 
you couldn't put much thought 
into, and you had to occupy 
your mind with something else 
while the hands were working 
mechanically. In much of our 
work it is not the body that 
gets tired so much as the mind, 
but there is very little work 
that boys are set at that really 
uses up the body as much as a 
turn at foot-ball or other active 
games... .If you do not like our 
way of making the work of 
turning seem less tedious, you 
can try Pat’s. Pat was a la¬ 
borer employed at a ship-yard 
to turn a grindstone. There 
were a great many men work¬ 
ing there, and so many tools 
needed sharpening that Pat 
was kept constantly turning 
from morning until night, and 
very tired he got. One morn¬ 
ing the foreman came early to 
the yard, and saw Pat turning 
away at the grindstone all 
alone, with no one holding a 
tool. He asked: “What are 
you doing there, Pat ? ”— 
“Faith, sur, I was just tryin’ 
to git a few turns ahead.” 
Easter.—“One of our boys” 
in Pennsylvania wishes to know 
why people eat eggs on Easter; 
he is a very matter of fact boy, 
and “ can see no sense ” in the 
custom. Easter is the day on 
which the resurrection is cele¬ 
brated, and on that day it has 
long been the custom to make 
presents of colored eggs. A 
live bird comes out of what 
seems like a dead egg, and this 
was supposed in some manner 
to represent the resurrection— 
life coming out of death. 
Whether this was the origin of 
the custom or not, the giving of 
eggs on Easter was practised 
over 400 years ago, even by 
kings, who had them hand¬ 
somely ornamented. At the 
present time it is the custom in 
some places to have colored eggs, and children play 
games with them to try which has the hardest shell. 
The custom has come down through these many genera¬ 
tions, and if, as our young friend thinks, there is “no 
sense ” in it, there is certainly no harm in eggs on Easter. 
