ifteenyearssincethelandwascleared,andImyselfhadgotouttwoorthreecordsofstumps,IdidnotgiveitanymanurebutinthecourseofthesummeritappearedbythearrowheadswhichIturnedupinhoeing,thatanextinctnationhadancientlydwelthereandplantedcornandbeanserewhitemencametocleartheland,andso,tosomeextent,hadexhaustedthesoilforthisverycrop.
Beforeyetanywoodchuckorsquirrelhadrunacrosstheroad,orthesunhadgotabovetheshruboaks,whileallthedewwason,thoughthefarmerswarnedmeagainstit,—Iwouldadviseyoutodoallyourworkifpossiblewhilethedewison,—Ibegantoleveltheranksofhaughtyweedsinmybean-fieldandthrowdustupontheirheads.EarlyinthemorningIworkedbarefooted,dabblinglikeaplasticartistinthedewyandcrumblingsand,butlaterinthedaythesunblisteredmyfeet.Therethesunlightedmetohoebeans,pacingslowlybackwardandforwardoverthatyellowgravellyupland,betweenthelonggreenrows,fifteenrods,theoneendterminatinginashruboakcopsewhereIcouldrestintheshade,theotherinablackberryfieldwherethegreenberriesdeepenedtheirtintsbythetimeIhadmadeanotherbout.Removingtheweeds,puttingfreshsoilaboutthebeanstems,andencouragingthisweedwhichIhadsown,makingtheyellowsoilexpressitssummerthoughtinbeanleavesandblossomsratherthaninwormwoodandpiperandmilletgrass,makingtheearthsaybeansinsteadofgrass,—thiswasmydailywork.AsIhadlittleaidfromhorsesorcattle,orhiredmenorboys,orimprovedimplementsofhusbandry,Iwasmuchslower,andbecamemuchmoreintimatewithmybeansthanusual.Butlaborofthehands,evenwhenpursuedtothevergeofdrudgery,isperhapsnevertheworstformofidleness.Ithasaconstantandimperishablemoral,andtothescholarityieldsaclassicresult.AveryagricolalaboriosuswasItotravellersboundwestwardthroughLincolnandWaylandtonobodyknowswheretheysittingattheireaseingigs,withelbowsonknees,andreinslooselyhanginginfestoonsIthehome-staying,laboriousnativeofthesoil.Butsoonmyhomesteadw