YANKEE FARMING.-NO. 5. 
189 
thin’ nobody knows nothin’ about, ’cept them¬ 
selves.” “ Hello,” says Uncle Sim, as I leaped the 
bars behind his back, and hearing my name men¬ 
tioned, I took the liberty of smartly slapping him 
on the shoulder, “you here'?” “Wal, 1 was jest 
sayin’,”—Never mind what you were saying; for 
like yourself, I can now and then quote a proverb ; 
“ listeners you know never hear anything good of 
themselves.” “ But it wasn’t that, Sargeant.” No, 
said I, you’re no backbiter; so go on, and let us 
have the rest of your remarks. “ Wal, I was a 
sayin’, beggin’ pardon o’ your presence, that you 
and Jemes Jones, who I’m glad is here now, are 
amazin’ spry, and smart mowers, if you warn’t quite 
so bookish.” Oh, as to that matter, said J, there’s 
Joe Watkins, moving lazily along the road here, 
who can scarce read at all, so you may have him to 
balance the account. “Yes, he is a lazy feller to 
walk, and not very bright in the upper story, 
nother, that’s sartin ; but somehow or other, Sar¬ 
geant, you, nor nobody else mows round him, 
bright or cloudy. It is marvelous what a simple 
critter he is ; and yet, if anybody ever cut a little 
too close to my heels for comfort, it is that ’ere 
same dummy, Joe Watkins. If there ain’t Capting 
Truck, and that ’ere great big nigger, Cesar, he 
brought all the way from old Yirginny with him, 
cause he is sich a good cook and sailor. He’d a 
better took him to Africa to settle, I guess. Wal, 
ne beats all our folks a cradlin’, chat’s a fact; and 
I’ll acknowledge when we mowed together afore, 
his swath was an inch and a quarter wider than 
mine; but then he lops in and doesn’t pint out 
clean, which is some loss in a hay crop, and makes 
the meadow look kinder ragged arter it’s raked 
over. As for the Capting, I never see him swing 
a scythe in my life ; but if he mows equal to that 
’ere big gobbler, he sold me last winter, then he’ll 
be the first man that ever out-mowed me. That 
Tom turkey, Sargeant, is a little the greatest feller 
I ever had in my yard ; and sich lots o’ chickens 
as we’ve got! But here’s all seven on us now, be¬ 
sides Bill; and as the sun will soon be up, and I 
know by them yaller, streaky clouds in the east, 
it’s goin’ to be fiery hot, we’d better set in; so who 
says for finishin’ the nine-acre lot of Simeon Doo¬ 
little’s by dinner time ? But afore we begin, men, 
jest hear me. I’m not one o’ them that wants his 
grass cut so very short as some does. It’s an old 
sayin’ I know, 1 that an inch at the bottom is worth 
two at the top.’ Wal, now, accordin’ to my no¬ 
tion, that depends on circumstances. ’Tis all very 
well when the grass isn’t yet ripe; but I don’t 
b’lieve in cuttin’ unripe grass. 1 wait ollous till it 
begins to shed its flowers, and is not only done 
growin’, but the bottom o’ the grass has got kinder 
hard. That’s the best time for cuttin’ accordin’ to 
my experience and my father’s afore me; and then 
an inch at the top is worth two times two at the 
bottom. Cut the grass even—leave the dry part 
to shade the ground* to rot, and to manure the crop 
another year, that’s the way to suit me.” 
We Commence Operations. —As this appeared 
sound doctrine to the rest of us, and no one having 
anything to say against it, Uncle Sim commenced 
at once with a stroke that showed he was no 
boaster, while one after another all rapidly fol¬ 
lowed his lead ? Bill bringing up the rear in a style 
worthy of his gifted sire and instructor. Nothing 
in particular occurred till six o’clock, when Aunt 
j Nabby blew the horn for breakfast. This over, 
away we went to work again, all hanging back a 
little when Bill led, in order to favor him; but 
when Uncle Sim, or the strong, long-armed Cesar 
headed the gang, we made the grass all smoke 
again. 
The Morning Lunch .—The day had not belied 
Uncle Sim’s prediction, for, by ten o’clock, it proved 
excessively hot. This, with the rapid rate at which 
we had worked, began to tell upon our exhausting 
frames ; when right glad were we to espy the gen¬ 
tle Molly—her pretty face well shaded "by a large 
sun bonnet—tripping down the meadow, bearing 
on either arm a good-sized basket, which she de¬ 
posited at the foot of a large old oak, that threw its 
wide, thick branches for many a yard around, form¬ 
ing a grateful shade under which to repose and 
take our lunch. 
“ Come, neighbors,” said Uncle Sim, throwing 
down his scythe, “‘an empty bag don’t stand up 
straight;’ no more does an empty stomach. We’ve 
put the best part o’ the grass now where it’ll soon 
make hay, so turn too, and let’s take a bite to freshen 
up agin.” 
We did not wait for a second summons ; but in¬ 
stantly followed Mr. Doolittle’s example, and were 
all soon seated under the old oak. The lunch con¬ 
sisted of sweetened dough nuts and cheese, bread 
and butter, and thin slices of cold ham, all nicely 
cooked and prepared by Aunt Nabby herself, 
in a manner that few could equal, and none excel. 
The drinks were various and such as we had been 
indulging in all the morning; for we had found it 
thirsty work, and the perspiration flowed out of us 
like water. 
Uncle Sim took a long sip from a large, square, 
black case bottle, and as he set it down, smacked 
his lips, and gave an approving wink to Captain 
Truck, declaring “ there was nothin’ like ’lasses 
and water, stirred up with jest cider brandy enough 
of his own partilcerler distillin’ to cool the throat, 
and make an old feller, like him, feel kinder spry 
when it touched the bottom o’ his stomach.” To 
this, Captain Truck gave an assenting nod; but 
tasting from a stout, brown, earthen mug, into 
which he had most assiduously been pouring va¬ 
rious liquids, “ he was of opinion, as he had so 
often had his fill of molasses in the West-India 
trade, that part of Uncle Sim’s mixture was all the 
better for being first boiled over into good old ‘ New 
England.’ With plenty of this to grease his log, 
he could give any man on the ground a knot the 
start headway in mowing, and run him hull down 
afore meridian.” Major Goodell “ considered no¬ 
thin’ tightened him up like sweetened milk and 
water, spiced with a spoonful of ginger to keep from 
gittin’ gripped by the cholic.” Cesar waited till the 
Captain had got through, and then received from 
his hand a second edition of the brown-mug mix¬ 
ture, which he gulped down with undisguised sat¬ 
isfaction, declaring that “ Massa Captin’ warn’t no 
possum, no how, and could go it with a fit a leetle 
better than raal old Varginny.” Joe Watkins re¬ 
fused Uncle Sim’s profered black bottle, and to his 
repeated invitation to “ help himself—take sum- 
thin’ good now, that’ll nake ye strong,” hq 
