ield; he has often to whip-cord the plough-whips; he sees the hogs
fed; he looks into the swill-tubs, and writes his orders for what is
wanted for food for man and beast; yes, and for fuel, too. And then, if
he has a bit of time to spare, he comes in and reads with me--but only
English; we keep Latin for the evenings, that we may have time to enjoy
it; and then he calls in the men to breakfast, and cuts the boys' bread
and cheese; and sees their wooden bottles filled, and sends them off to
their work;--and by this time it is half-past six, and we have our
breakfast. There is father,' she exclaimed, pointing out to me a man in
his shirt-sleeves, taller by the head than the other two with whom he
was working. We only saw him through the leaves of the ash-trees
growing in the hedge, and I thought I must be confusing the figures, or
mistaken: that man still looked like a very powerful labourer, and had
none of the precise demureness of appearance which I had always
imagined was the characteristic of a minister. It was the Reverend
Ebenezer Holman, however. He gave us a nod as we entered the
stubble-field; and I think he would have come to meet us but that he
was in the middle of giving some directions to his men. I could see
that Phillis was built more after his type than her mother's. He, like
his daughter, was largely made, and of a fair, ruddy complexion,
whereas hers was brilliant and delicate. His hair had been yellow or
sandy, but now was grizzled. Yet his grey hairs betokened no failure in
strength. I never saw a more powerful man--deep chest, lean flanks,
well-planted head. By this time we were nearly up to him; and he
interrupted himself and stepped forwards; holding out his hand to me,
but addressing Phillis.

'Well, my lass, this is cousin Manning, I suppose. Wait a minute, young
man, and I'll put on my coat, and give you a decorous and formal
welcome. But--Ned Hall, there ought to be a water-furrow across this
land: it's a nasty, stiff, clayey, dauby bit of ground, and thou and I
must fall to, come next Monday--I beg your pardon, cousin Manning--and
there's old Jem's cottage wants a bit of thatch; you can do that job
tomorrow while I am busy.' Then, suddenly changing the tone of his deep
bass voice to an odd suggestion of chapels and preachers, he added.
'Now, I will give out the psalm, "Come all harmonious tongues", to be
sung to "Mount Ephraim" tune.'

He lifted his spade in his hand, and began to beat time w