a thrashing. The end of all this was that William Dawe was sold up, and
even then he was not free from all his difficulties.

One of the first important things I did after my father's death,
therefore, after a serious conversation with the farmer, was to lure him
to come to Elmwater Barton, with his wife and son and daughter, in order
to manage the farm. I do not think in all my life I have ever seen a man
so grateful.

"Will you come, William?" I asked, when I told him what wages I could
afford to give.

"Come, Maaster Jasper, come! I reck'n I will! Why--" And then he caught
at my hand, and behaved in a way that made me think for the time that I
was serving him only, and not myself at all.

In a few days William was settled down at the Barton, and right well did
he arrange for the harvest, and right hard did both he and his son work
for me. Indeed, both William and his son George seemed ready to work
their arms off for me, and were both anxious to serve me night and day.
George Dawe was a strapping fellow of twenty-five, nearly as tall and
strong as myself, though not quite. This was proved one day when we
wrestled down in the calves' meadow. I had hard work to master him, for
George had taken the wrestling prize at St. Eve's Feast for three years
in succession. I was proud to have thrown him, especially as I had not
yet got my full strength, not being twenty years of age. George had had
a varied experience. He had been to sea in a trading vessel, and, if the
truth must be confessed, had done a fair amount of smuggling. Be that as
it may, George Dawe loved me like a brother, and nothing was too much
for him to do for me. Thus I regarded myself as very fortunate. Eliza
Dawe, too, was a careful, sensible woman, while Selina, her daughter,
was a strapping, healthy wench who could do as much work as two ordinary
women.

Now, I say this was a great help to me, for they all watched my
interests closely.

"Lev any ov the Trezidders try any ov their dirty capers now," said
George to me, "and we'll laive 'em knaw."

Those who know nothing about farming can have no idea what a great
amount of harm a seemingly little mistake can do. Suppose, for instance,
there are two ten-acred fields side by side. Suppose the month is early
July, when the corn has nearly reached its full height, and the heads
have all bursted ready to ripen. Well, suppose, again, that one of these
ten-acred fields has barley, or oats, or wheat, while