had just feasted liberally on the farmer's
fruits. Never was a table set with lustier
fare than Farmer Standish's. There was a
great dish heaped up with young potatoes
which seemed to reproach us for throwing
up the hoe so soon; there was a lordly
lump, or, as the Yankees say, "hunk," of
beefsteak, describable in no other way;
there were turnips and green peas, green
corn—a luxury unknown to Englishmen
—tomatoes, a monumental loaf of bread,
and foaming pitchers of cider and home–
brewed ginger beer. We sat at table with
the farmer's family or the male portion of
it and at one end of the same board were
Pat and Mike, the two "hired men" from
the Emerald Isle; while Nancy and Jemima,
brisk, practical, useful farmer's girls,
brought in the heaped-up dishes, helped this
one and that one; had a word, a nod, or a
giggle for each one; and "flew about," as
only stout-limbed rustic Hebes can.

Dinner over, the good farmer, before returning
to his work, gave us a little good-humoured
lecture. "Neow you see, young
men," said he, slapping his knee, "that
city folks like you ain't made up fur farm
work. You'll do very well to plead at nisy
prius, and to write noospaper pieces, but you
ain't quite up to this sort er muscle work.
It ain't easy 'z rollin' off a log, I can tell
ye. So you might jest as well give up,
and acknowlidge yourselves beat. Here's
this farm, and a dozen others all around
it. Jest go where you like, and doo what
you like, all over 'em. There's fish in the
river and in the brooks; fish 'em up, and
we'll have 'em cooked to-morrer mornin',
and you can eat 'em. There's lots of boats;
and there's a place a little up the river
where nobody'll see yer, and you can go
swimmin' slick uz a duck's foot in the mud.
Eat uz much of that fruit out in the orchard
as you want but don't eat so much uz to
be laid up. Doctor fellers is scarce in
these parts. Stay at home if you like, and
talk to the girls, and read po'try, 'n' play
cards, 'n' smoke. Do jist what you like,
when you like, where you like, and heow
you like. That's all. And neow, good-bye
till supper time."

With which the squire tramped off, with
his hoe over his shoulder, his baggy blue
trousers tucked into a pair of stupendous
boots, and his great straw hat jammed
tight over his forehead, and serving as an
umbrella to his chubby face.

We held an impromptu council, under
a high cherry tree. Cigars were lighted,
we flung ourselves at full length on the
grass, and formed a sort of human wheel,
of which our legs were the spokes, and our
trio of heads the hub.

What should we do to amuse ourselves?
The question was answered as soon as asked.
We had got off more easily from our
unfortunate project of amateur farming than
we had hoped. We had all the day to
ourselves, and perfect freedom of the country
for miles around.

"Apropos of cigars," said Wilkins, lighting
a second fragrant Havana with the
stump of the first. "Let's go and see the
farmer's establishment for making them.
You see that field of tobacco over yonder?
Old Standish raises his own weed, dries it
in the big open sheds behind the barn, cures
it I don't quite know the whole process
and then has it made up into long sixes
and short fives, Conchas and Cabanas, like
a Cuban senor. I went over the establishment
a year ago, and it's worth seeing."

We strolled, first, over to the tobacco field.
The weed was just then at its full ripeness,
and the long, flappy, delicately furred green
leaves bent gracefully over toward the
ground, growing smaller and smaller, the
higher they were on the stout stalk. Few
foreigners know that, even as far north as
New England, in the sunny valleys of Connecticut,
sheltered as they are from the bleak
east winds of the Atlantic, and accustomed
to a long and steady summer heat, tobacco
is grown in large quantities, flourishes
exuberantly, and is one of the chief sources
of profit to the farmers. It needs a rich
warm soil, and careful tending; but it
gives, in its growth, a sentimental reward to
the cultivator; for it comes up gracefully,
rapidly, and beautifully, and is, with some
care, one of the most satisfactory crops to
"handle." Having gazed at and tasted
the thick leaves, we sauntered behind the
barn, and there saw the long open shed,
with beams running parallel from end to
end, where the gathered tobacco leaves
were hung to be thoroughly dried by the
sun. Then Wilkins conducted us for some
distance along the river bank; we jumped
into a boat, and rowed perhaps half a mile,
landing by the side of a little shop-like
building, where we heard the hum of voices
and the commotion of many busy persons.
We entered, and found ourselves in a long
low room, having wide tables ranged along
the walls; here, working rapidly, were
rows of ruddy, chatty country girls, who, as
they worked, laughed and talked, and now
and then hummed a verse of some familiar
ballad. Neatly packed piles of the dried