his back, listening intently to all explanations of tillage, and
the different processes of farming; occasionally taking up an
implement, as if unconsciously, and examining it with a critical
eye, and now and then asking a question, which I could see was
considered as pertinent by his companion. Then we returned to
look at the cattle, housed and bedded in expectation of the
snow-storm hanging black on the western horizon, and my father
learned the points of a cow with as much attention as if he meant
to turn farmer. He had his little book that he used for
mechanical memoranda and measurements in his pocket, and he took
it out to write down 'straight back', small muzzle', 'deep
barrel', and I know not what else, under the head 'cow'. He was
very critical on a turnip-cutting machine, the clumsiness of
which first incited him to talk; and when we went into the house
he sate thinking and quiet for a bit, while Phillis and her
mother made the last preparations for tea, with a little unheeded
apology from cousin Holman, because we were not sitting in the
best parlour, which she thought might be chilly on so cold a
night. I wanted nothing better than the blazing, crackling fire
that sent a glow over all the house-place, and warmed the snowy
flags under our feet till they seemed to have more heat than the
crimson rug right in front of the fire. After tea, as Phillis and
I were talking together very happily, I heard an irrepressible
exclamation from cousin Holman,--

'Whatever is the man about!'

And on looking round, I saw my father taking a straight burning
stick out of the fire, and, after waiting for a minute, and
examining the charred end to see if it was fitted for his