e, and their widowed daughter. Having lost their home and all their
worldly possessions, they had agreed to work for the farmer for food and
lodging. The old gentleman was acting somewhat in the character of
coachman; his wife was nurse; and the widowed daughter was cook and
house-servant. The three were fully the equals if not the superiors of
the family in which they were serving. Happily for them they soon got
some good news, and drove away in their own carriage. The farmer did the
best he could for them while they stayed, and for his survivors; but he
was burdened with a large family, a miserably poor farm, deep poverty,
and hopeless shiftlessness.

One day the farmer made up his mind to cultivate a certain field, in the
centre of which he had an extensive cow-pen, inclosed by a ten-rail
fence. To prepare the way he wanted that fence taken down, carried rail
by rail to the corner of the field, and there piled up. He put one of
his new hands to work at this interesting job, and went home, probably
to take a nap. The survivor toted rails that day on one shoulder until
it was bleeding, and then on the other until that was too sensitive.
Then he walked over to see how the other "hand" was getting along with
the horse and mule team and the harrow.

He found him very warm, very much exasperated, using excited language,
beating the animals, and declaring that no man under the sun ever
encountered such formidable difficulties in the pursuit of agricultural
profit. He explained that the horse was too large and the mule too
small; the traces were too old, and would break every few yards; the
harness was dropping to pieces; the teeth constantly dropping out of the
harrow; and the harrow itself ready to tumble into firewood. In addition
to these annoyances, the mule and the horse alternated between going the
wrong way and not going at all. The man almost wept as he described the
aggravating calmness of the animals. When a trace broke they turned,
gazed on the wreck, stood still, groaned (by way of a sigh), and seemed
to say, "One more brief respite, thank Providence! Fifteen minutes to
tie up that old chain, _at least_!" After a careful survey of the
situation and some tolerably accurate guesses as to the proximity of the
dinner hour, the two battered remnants of the glorious old army decided
to suspend operations, and slowly wended their way to the house: one
carrying his lacerated shoulders, and the other steering the remains