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Updated: April 30, 2025
Sometimes in one place, sometimes in another. Hay-mows, river-banks, threshing-floors, these were the old places of resort for country boys. And nothing was so sweet to me, when I was a boy, as the newly cut clover-hay where I sat with two or three companions, watching the barn swallows chattering their incomprehensible gabble and gossip from the doors of their mud houses in the rafters.
"It seems to me, Mr. Yocomb, that you have grown here in the country like your clover-hay, and are as good and wholesome. In New York it is so different, especially if one has no home life; you breathe a different atmosphere from us in more respects than one.
I went on, sickened with the contrast between the highly-bred, over-fed, fat, thick-woolled animals, with their troughs of turnips and malt-dust, and their racks of rich clover-hay, and their little pent-house of rock-salt, having nothing to do but to eat and sleep, and eat again, and the little half-starved shivering animals who were their slaves. Man the master of the brutes? Bah!
I asked, with shame, scarce daring even to look at her, because her grief was not like Annie's a thing that could be coaxed away, and left a joy in going "oh, what have I done to vex you so?" "It is nothing done by you, Master Ridd," she answered, very proudly, as if nought I did could matter; "it is only something that comes upon me with the scent of the pure true clover-hay.
If it were Monday, I'd wager you a plum that they would all leave your oats to eat clover-hay out of my hand." "We'll arrange about the bet to-morrow, and now try the experiment," said Mr. Yocomb, relapsing into his genial humor at once. I was learning, however, that a deep, earnest nature was hidden by this outward sheen and sparkle.
'What have I done? I asked, with shame, scarce daring even to look at her, because her grief was not like Annie's a thing that could be coaxed away, and left a joy in going 'oh, what have I done to vex you so? 'It is nothing done by you, Master Ridd, she answered, very proudly, as if nought I did could matter; 'it is only something that comes upon me with the scent of the pure true clover-hay.
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