Read Ebook: A visit to a farm house; or An introduction to various subjects connected with rural economy. Seventh edition revised and corrected. by S W Active T H Editor

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"From ten to twenty," said Mr. Mansfield. "But as she has not milk enough to suckle so many, she casts off some, and seldom brings up more than twelve."

The following day being appointed for sheep-shearing, a number of men and boys assembled at an early hour in the great barn. Arthur and Charles went with their grandpapa to see the process, and were greatly pleased with the hurry and bustle of the scene. The sheep were penned in a fold close to the barn, and were fetched away by the lads one by one, as fast as the shearers were ready for them. A few days before, they had all been washed at a mill-pond, so that their fleeces were beautifully white, and they were so thick as to make the animals appear almost twice as large as they really were.

Arthur observed with surprise, that the poor creatures were perfectly quiet during the time of their being shorn; although they struggled with terror when they were first brought out, and bleated piteously as soon as they were set at liberty.

He wondered at the ease with which the men laid them on the ground, and afterwards turned them over from side to side, as was necessary in the course of the shearing. After watching one of the shearers for some time, he began the following conversation with him:--

Mr. Mansfield at length called the two boys to go away. They immediately obeyed; and Charles, taking hold of his grandpapa's hand, asked him if he did not think a sheep-shearing was a most charming thing.

"That is all very droll," said Charles. "But when will there be another sheep-shearing, grandpapa?"

"Not till this day twelvemonth, my dear," returned Mr. Mansfield. "Wool does not grow very fast. In two or three weeks you will see the sheep covered with a little short wool; and the traces of the shears will then be worn away. As winter comes on, it grows thicker and longer; but that is not a time to rob them of their fleece. At last the year will come round, and then they will be again ready for the shearer."

"I am fond of sheep," said Arthur; "and I like little lambs, they look so innocent."

In the evening a supper was provided to refresh the shearers after their hard day's work, consisting of legs of mutton, and plum-puddings, with plenty of good ale. All was jollity and mirth. During the day a constant buz of many voices might have been heard even at some distance from the barn; but the business they were engaged in did not allow time for much talk. At night, on the contrary, they had nothing to do but to divert themselves, and every tongue was heard. They told merry stories without end, sang songs, and drank to the health of their kind master. Mr. Mansfield himself staid with them for some time, encouraging them to be cheerful, and walked about to see that every body was helped. At length, he left the party, followed by his grand-children, who immediately retired to rest, highly satisfied with the pleasures of the day.

The next morning, Mr. Mansfield asked the little boys if they were disposed for a walk. Arthur replied that he should like it very much; but Charles said he would rather stay at home with his grandmamma; accordingly they set off without him.

"What pretty purple flowers grow in that field!" observed Arthur, when they had proceeded a little way. "Pray, grandpapa, what are they?"

"That is a field of clover," replied Mr. Mansfield; "and it will soon be cut for hay."

Arthur said he did not know.

The next field they came to was sown with rye, which Mr. Mansfield said was a species of corn; and, although much coarser than wheat, was frequently made into bread, and in many places formed the chief food of the poor. He desired his grandson to gather an ear or two, that he might learn to distinguish between that and barley, which grew in the field through which they were next to pass.

Arthur pulled up a root of rye, and then ran to overtake his grandfather, who by this time had got over the stile, and was slowly crossing the barley field.

"Well, Arthur, what difference do you find in the growth of these two kinds of corn?" asked Mr. Mansfield.

As Mr. Mansfield and Arthur were returning from their walk, in a lane at a little distance from the house they were met by Charles, who had mounted a pony belonging to his grandfather: it had taken fright, and was running away at full speed. Mr. Mansfield stopped it by catching hold of the bridle; and as soon as he was satisfied that no mischief had happened, and Charles was sufficiently recovered to be able to talk, he inquired what had led him to try his skill in horsemanship.

"Why, grandpapa," replied Charles, "Robert had just come home with the pony, and left him at the gate; and I wanted to ride; so I got upon him, and he ran away with me."

"I often think, grandpapa, that it is very strange such large creatures as these," said Arthur, patting Plover, who now walked quietly by the side of his master, "should suffer us to get upon their backs, and manage them as we please. They are much stronger than we are; and I wonder they do not drive us away, and not carry us, and refuse to draw our coaches and do every thing we like."

As Mr. Mansfield finished these words, they reached the stable yard, and Ralph came forward to unharness the pony.

"Plover must be shod to-morrow, sir," said he, as he looked at one of his hinder feet.

"Is not it cruel, grandpapa," asked Charles, "to drive nails into the horse's feet?"

"Do you know, my dear," said Mrs. Mansfield to her husband, when they were sitting at tea, "the miller has forgotten to send home the flour he promised to let us have last week; and Sarah has just told me we have not enough in the house to bake to-morrow! So what must we do? Can you spare one of the men to go over and inquire about it?"

"I am afraid, my dear," said Mr. Mansfield, "they are all busy at present; but when Ralph comes in he may go of the errand."

"It has just occurred to me," rejoined Mrs. Mansfield, "that if you are disposed for another walk this fine evening, you might go yourself and take the children with you; and it will be a nice treat to them, for I know they have never seen a mill."

"Ah, do go, grandpapa; will you, grandpapa? it will be so very delightful!" said both the boys at the same instant.

"Thank you, sir! thank you, sir!" cried Charles, running for the hat.

"I hope you won't be tired though," said Arthur. "You shall rest upon my shoulder all the way; and do not be afraid of leaning all your weight, for I shall be able to bear it very well."

"You shall have my shoulder to rest upon too," exclaimed Charles: "So I dare say, grandpapa, you will not be tired."

"Indeed," replied Mr. Mansfield, putting one hand upon the shoulder of each, as he rose from the chair, "with two such kind little supporters, I shall not be easily fatigued."

As they walked, Charles expressed his joy that they were going to see the inside of a mill, which was what he had long wished to do. "And, pray," inquired he, "what is it like?"

"There is no beard to this," said Arthur.

Charles pulled violently, and drew up a root that had seven stalks growing from it.

"Hold, you wasteful little fellow!" cried his grandpapa. "I did not tell you to root up my field at one stroke. Let me see, however. Observe what a wonderful increase here is. These seven stalks have all sprung from one single grain, and each ear contains, perhaps, twenty grains; which gives us in all a hundred and forty grains instead of one."

As they were conversing in this manner they arrived at the mill; and when Mr. Mansfield had given his orders, he asked leave to lead his grandchildren over it. He then explained to them, how the sails, being turned round by the wind, were the occasion of turning different wheels in the inside of the building. He next pointed out to them two large flat stones, shut up in a kind of box. "You may see," said he, "that all the corn is made to pass between these stones. The understone is fixed; but the upper one turns round, and presses so heavily upon it, as to bruise and grind the corn to powder."

"I understand you, grandpapa," returned Charles. "And is that all that is done here?"

Mr. Mansfield then opened a little door in the large wooden box, or bin, that contained the engine; when a quantity of fine flour flew out into their faces, and powdered them all over. The boulter was made of frame-work, five or six feet long, round which a canvas was tightly strained. "Now," said Mr. Mansfield, "the meal is put into this boulting machine, which turns round, you see, very fast when the mill is at work. The quickness of its motion causes the fine flour to fly off through the canvas; but the coarse and husky part, which is bran, not being able to do that, falls to the bottom by itself. The use of shutting it up in this box, is to prevent the flour from being scattered over the mill."

The Bensons and their grandfather remained at the mill till they had thoroughly examined every part of it. They received much pleasure from seeing the different wheels and contrivances, and were diverted to find, when they came away, that they were so covered with flour as to look almost as white as millers.

As they were returning home, Arthur observed, that having first seen the wheat growing, and afterwards ground, they only wanted now to know how flour was made into bread, to understand the whole process from beginning to end.

Mr. Mansfield replied, that he could easily explain that. The flour was mixed with a proper quantity of water, and a little yeast put in to make it rise. "This," said he, "is well kneaded together, and then it is put into an oven and baked."

"But what is yeast?" inquired Charles.

"And now," continued he, "I am not sorry to find myself near home. You, Arthur, may likewise be glad to rest yourself, for you have been stumping about almost all day."

The boys declared they were not at all tired, and thanked their grandpapa for the pleasure he had procured them.

"Grandmamma, pray where are you going?" asked Charles one morning, on seeing his grandmother walk out at the garden door.

"To feed my chickens, my love," returned she.

"Then I will go with you, if I may," said Charles. "And so will I," said Arthur: and he threw down his peg-top in a corner.

"My speckled hen," said Mrs. Mansfield, "came off her nest, yesterday, with a fine brood of chickens."

In Mr. Mansfield's neighbourhood resided a Mr. Ashley, a gentleman of large fortune, and of a very obliging disposition. He had heard that Arthur and Charles Benson were at their grandpapa's on a visit, and one day he sent for them to play with his son William, a little boy nearly of their own age. The Bensons went, and William took them into the park, where they amused themselves for some time by the play of trap-ball. The game was at last suddenly broken off by master Ashley, who threw down the bat upon the ground, exclaiming that his pretty tame fawn was coming in sight, and that he must go and stroke it. The Bensons were rather sorry to be interrupted in their play; but, as they had been early taught, that it was often necessary to give up their own inclinations to the wishes of others, they left off with the utmost good humour. "Look at the pretty creature!" said William Ashley, caressing the fawn. "I wish I had a bit of bread here: it would eat it out of my hand."

"I have found a piece of biscuit in the corner of my pocket," said Charles. "Here it is. I will feed it, if you please."

"How old is he?" inquired Arthur.

"Six weeks, or two months, I do not recollect which," replied William. "But see, here comes the mother! I thought she could not be far off, for does never desert their young ones until the end of the summer."

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