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"I don't believe it," Sviazhsky replied quite seriously; "all I see is that we don't know how to cultivate the land, and that our system of agriculture in the serf days was by no means too high, but too low. We have no machines, no good stock, no efficient supervision; we don't even know how to keep accounts. Ask any landowner; he won't be able to tell you what crop's profitable, and what's not."
Crop's eloquence was powerless to express but by an interjection, lay in his master's affection for the animal. Dick Stanmore dearly loved a horse, as some men do love them, totally irrespective of any pleasure or advantage to be derived from their use.
How much do you call a fair thing for the holding as it stands, bearing in mind our risk in buying what is only the good-will with the owner absent?" They haggled over the terms for a while, and then Harry turned to me. "We can do it at a stretch, Ralph, by paying him so much after the crop's sold for the next two years.
"Small wonder," he went on, "that crime's incr'asing an' th' cotton crop's decreasing in the black belt, when you're sendin' such mate to the poor naygurs. Why don't you git a cellar man that's been raised with the hogs, an' 'll treat 'em right when they're dead?" "I'm looking for one," says I. "I know a likely lad for you," says he.
Helen did not look altogether satisfied, but let the matter go. "Has the hail done much damage to the wheat?" "Yes," said Festing, with grim quietness. "I imagine it has done all the damage that was possible. So far as I could see, the crop's wiped out." They were sitting near together, and Helen, leaning forward, put her hand on his arm with a gesture of sympathy. "Poor Stephen!
I can do something better, and after this crop's laid by I'm going to do it. I don't think that she wants to marry a farmer." "What does Stuart do?" I asked. "How can he afford to be riding about when other men are at work?" "Oh, I guess he's pretty well fixed. He's got a lot of negroes working for him and he raises a good deal of tobacco. No, sir, she didn't even look toward me."
But that ain't why our potato crop's a failure this year. And as far as I see, talking won't cure many fish, either." "Can't I help?" asked Ida May in her gentle voice. "You know, I've come here to work. I don't expect to play lady." "Well, I don't know. It ain't the kind of work you are used to." "I've been used to work all my life, and all kinds of work," interposed the girl bravely.
And now Dick Stanmore was about to offer up half-a-dozen of these valued servants before the idol he had lately begun to worship, for whom, indeed, he esteemed no victim too precious, no sacrifice too dear. Driving into his stable-yard, he threw the reins to a couple of helpers, and made use of Mr. Crop's arm to assist his descent. That worthy's face shone with delight.
"Where the squat-legged Eskimo Waddles in the ice and snow, And the playful polar bear Nips the hunter unaware; Where the air is kind o' pure, And the snow crop's pretty sure"? July 22 It has been days since I wrote you, and they have slipped by so stealthily I must have missed half they held. Since coming aboard I have taken to rising promptly.
As to yields and proceeds, a planter on the Georgia seaboard analyzed his experience from 1830 to 1847 as follows: the harvest average per acre ranged from 68 pounds of lint in 1846 to 223 pounds in 1842, with a general average for the whole period of 137 pounds; the crop's average price per pound ranged from 14 cents in 1847 to 41 cents in 1838, with a general average of 23 1/2 cents; and the net proceeds per hand were highest at $137 in 1835, lowest at $41 in 1836, and averaged $83 for the eighteen years.
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