ossible to lend an ear to the gossipings of a servant. And
yet--and yet, there are a few things I'd like to find out. And dignity
may still be slaughtered on the altar of curiosity.

_Sunday the Sixth_

Now that I've had a breathing-spell, I've been sitting back and
mentally taking stock. The showers of last week have brought the
needed moisture for our wheat, which is looking splendid. Our oats are
not quite so promising, but everything will depend upon the season.
The season, in fact, holds our fate and our fortune in its lap. Those
ninety days that include June and July and August are the days when
the northwest farmer is forever on tiptoe watching the weather. It's
his time of trial, his period of crisis, when our triple foes of
Drought and Hail and Fire may at any moment creep upon him. It keeps
one on the _qui vive_, making life a gamble, giving the zest of the
uncertain to existence, and leaving no room for boredom. It's the big
drama which even dwarfs the once momentous emotions of love and hate
and jealousy. For when the Big Rush is on, I've noticed, husbands are
apt to neglect their wives, and lovers forget their sweethearts, and
neighbors their enmities. Let the world go hang, but before and above
everything else, _save your crop!_

Yet, as I was saying, I've been taking stock. It's clear that I should
have more cattle. And if all goes well, I want a bank-barn, the same
as they have in the East, with cement flooring and modern stalling.
And I've got to comb over my herd, and get rid of the boarders and
hatracks, and acquire a blooded bull for Alabama Ranch, to improve the
strain. Two of my milkers must go for beef, as well as several scrub
springers which it would be false economy to hold. I've also got to do
something about my hogs. They are neither "easy feeders" nor good
bacon types. With them, too, I want a good sire, a pure-bred Yorkshire
or Berkshire. And I must have cement troughs and some movable fencing,
so that my young shoats may have pasture-crop. For there is money in
pigs, and no undue labor, provided you have them properly fenced.

My chickens, which have been pretty well caring for themselves, have
done as well as could be expected. I've tried to get early hatchings
from my brooders, for pullets help out with winter eggs when prices
are high, laying double what a yearling does during the cold months.
My yellow-beaks and two-year-olds I shall kill off as we'