I
promised them a week of haying in each fifty-two, but that was all the
concession I would make. Laura said:--
"We are commanded to make hay while the sun shines; and the sun always
shines at Four Oaks, for me."
It was pretty of her to say that; but what else would one expect from
Laura?
The twelve acres from which the fodder oats had been cut were ploughed
and fitted for sugar beets and turnips. I was not at all certain that
the beets would do anything if sown so late, but I was going to try. Of
the turnips I could feel more certain, for doth not the poet say:--
"The 25th day of July,
Sow your turnips, wet or dry"?
As the 25th fell on Sunday, I tried to placate the agricultural poet by
sowing half on the 24th and the other half on the 26th, but it was no
use. Whether the turnip god was offended by the fractured rule and
refused his blessing, or whether the dry August and September prevented
full returns, is more than I can say. Certain it is that I had but a
half crop of turnips and a beggarly batch of beets to comfort me and the
hogs.
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