I want Sam to go into the north hill-field with the plough, as soon as he can; I think the frost must be out of the ground with you.

I intend to put wheat there and in the big border meadow.

The bend meadow is in no hurry; it will take corn, I guess.

You had better feed out the turnips to the old black cow and the two heifers." The letters were read at last, and folded up, by the respective hands that held them.
"Well, Will's coming home," the mother said, with half a sigh.
Winthrop did not answer; he made over to her hand the letter he held in his own.
"The north hill-field is pretty much all ploughed already," he remarked.
"You're a good farmer, Governor," said his mother.

"But I am afraid that praise doesn't please you." "Yes it does, mamma," he answered smiling a little.
"But it don't satisfy you ?" "No more than it does you, mamma.