he meal-box at a
great rate. It checked the speed in a measure, however, and we took
breath a little.

"You had better keep the mill grinding till the pond runs out," Addison
advised.

"I would," replied Jock, "but that's all the grain there is here."

It was evident that the mill must be kept grinding at something or
other, or it would grind itself. It would not answer to put in pebbles.
Ad suggested chips from the wood yard; and George set off on a run to
fetch a basketful of chips to grind; but while he was gone, Jock
bethought himself of a pile of corncobs in one corner of the mill; and
we hastily gathered up a half-bushel measureful. They were old dry cobs
and very hard.

"Not too fast with them!" Jock cautioned. "Only a few at a time!"

By throwing in a handful at a time, we reduced the speed of the stones
gradually, and then suddenly piling in a peck or more slowed it down
till it fairly came to a standstill, glutted with cobs. The water-wheel
had stopped, although the water was still pouring down upon it; and in
that condition we left it, with the miller boys peeping about the flume
and the millstones and exclaiming to each other, "What'll Pa say when he
gets back!"

That was my first experience in active milling business, and it made a
profound impression on my mind.

But we were not yet home with our grist, by a great deal! Halstead had
resented it because he had not been able to drive the horse on the
outward trip. While Addison and I were throwing in the last bag, he
jumped into the wagon and secured the reins. Not to have trouble,
Addison said nothing against his driving; and we two walked up the long
hill from the mill, behind the wagon. Reaching the summit, we got in and
Halstead started to drive down the hill on the other side. As I was a
stranger, he wished me to think that he was a fine driver and told me of
some of his exploits managing horses. "There's no use," said he, "in
letting a horse lag along down hill the way the old mossbacks do around
here. They are scared to death if a horse does more than walk. Ad won't
let a horse trot a single step on a hill, but mopes and mopes along.
I've seen horses driven in places where they know something, and I know
how a horse ought to go."

In earnest of this opinion, he touched old Sol up, and we went down the
first hill at such a pace, that I was glad to hold to the seat.

"You had better be careful," said Addison. "Drive with more sense, if
you a