to a
tough mass, chiefly by the cordlike roots of perennial grasses,
reinforced by the tap-roots of oak and hickory bushes, called "grubs,"
some of which were more than a century old and four or five inches in
diameter. In the hardest ploughing on the most difficult ground, the
grubs were said to be as thick as the hair on a dog's back. If in good
trim, the plough cut through and turned over these grubs as if the
century-old wood were soft like the flesh of carrots and turnips; but
if not in good trim the grubs promptly tossed the plough out of the
ground. A stout Highland Scot, our neighbor, whose plough was in bad
order and who did not know how to trim it, was vainly trying to keep
it in the ground by main strength, while his son, who was driving and
merrily whipping up the cattle, would cry encouragingly, "Haud her in,
fayther! Haud her in!"

"But hoo i' the deil can I haud her in when she'll no _stop_ in?" his
perspiring father would reply, gasping for breath between each word.
On the contrary, with the share and coulter sharp and nicely adjusted,
the plough, instead of shying at every grub and jumping out, ran
straight ahead without need of steering or holding, and gripped the
ground so firmly that it could hardly be thrown out at the end of the
furrow.

Our breaker turned a furrow two feet wide, and on our best land, where
the sod was toughest, held so firm a grip that at the end of the field
my brother, who was driving the oxen, had to come to my assistance in
throwing it over on its side to be drawn around the end of the
landing; and it was all I could do to set it up again. But I learned
to keep that plough in such trim that after I got started on a new
furrow I used to ride on the crossbar between the handles with my feet
resting comfortably on the beam, without having to steady or steer it
in any way on the whole length of the field, unless we had to go round
a stump, for it sawed through the biggest grubs without flinching.

The growth of these grubs was interesting to me. When an acorn or
hickory-nut had sent up its first season's sprout, a few inches long,
it was burned off in the autumn grass fires; but the root continued to
hold on to life, formed a callus over the wound and sent up one or
more shoots the next spring. Next autumn these new shoots were burned
off, but the root and calloused head, about level with the surface of
the ground, continued to grow and send up more new shoots; and so on,
almo