Grandpapa. The blackness is nothing but the earth among it; it is very thin at that time of the year. Did you ever observe a field just before it was cut for hay?
Arthur. Oh, yes. Do you know, grandpapa, we all took a walk in a field a little while ago; and the grass was so very long that it came up to the top of my legs; and little Kate cried, and could not get on at all.
Grandpapa. You see then, that as there is much grass in summer and but little in winter, your horses at one time would have more than they could eat, and at another would starve. Yet this would be owing to your own fault: for God gives enough for the whole year; and all he requires of us is, that we should in the season of plenty lay up for the time of need.
CHAPTER VI.
The Walk continued.
The next field they came to was sown with rye, which Mr. Mansfield said was a species of corn; and, although much coarser than wheat, was frequently made into bread, and in many places formed the chief food of the poor. He desired his grandson to gather an ear or two, that he might learn to distinguish between that and barley, which grew in the field through which they were next to pass.
Arthur pulled up a root of rye, and then ran to overtake his grandfather, who by this time had got over the stile, and was slowly crossing the barley field.
“Well, Arthur, what difference do you find in the growth of these two kinds of corn?” asked Mr. Mansfield.
Arthur. Indeed, grandpapa, I don’t see any, except that the rye grows very high, as high as the top of your hat, and that the barley only comes to my elbow.
Mr. Mansfield. That is one difference, to be sure. Examine them well, and perhaps you may discover some other.