"But it is a pleasant life, that of a farmer," said Mr. Ferrars to Job.

"Yes, but life should be something more than pleasant," said Job, who
always looked discontented; "an ox in a pasture has a pleasant life."

"Well, and why should it not be a profitable one, too?" said Mr.
Ferrars.

"I do not see my way to that," said Job moodily; "there is not much to
be got out of the land at any time, and still less on the terms we hold
it."

"But you are not high-rented!"

"Oh, rent is nothing, if everything else were right, but nothing is
right," said Job. "In the first place, a farmer is the only trader who
has no security for his capital."

"Ah! you want a lease?"

"I should be very sorry to have a lease like any that I have seen,"
replied Job. "We had one once in our family, and we keep it as a
curiosity. It is ten skins long, and more tyrannical nonsense was never
engrossed by man."

"But your family, I believe, has been on this estate for generations
now," said Ferrars, "and they have done well."

"They have done about as well as their stock. They have existed," said
Job; "nothing more."