And how even
father had helped to pop corn in the iron pot.
Ah! that was a time long to be remembered; and he had ample
opportunity to draw comparisons, for he often thought his master
cared more for his cattle than he did for him, and it is quite
probable he did; for while they were warmly housed he was needlessly
exposed, and his comfort utterly disregarded. If there was brush to
cut, or fence to make, or any out-door labour to perform, a wet,
cold, or windy day was sure to be selected, while in _fine weather_
the wood was required to be chopped, and, generally speaking, all
the work that could be done under shelter. Yet we dare say Farmer
Watkins never thought of the inhumanity of this, or the advantage he
would himself derive by arranging it otherwise.
John Cole had been living out perhaps a year. He had not grown much
in this period; his frame had always been slight, and his sunken
cheeks and wasted limbs spoke of the hard usage and suffering of his
present situation. The family had many delicacies for themselves,
but the _work boy_ they knew never was used to such things, and they
were indifferent, as to what his fare chanced to be. He generally
managed to satisfy the cravings of hunger on the coarse food given
him, but that was all. About this time it happened that the farmer
was digging a ditch, and as he was afraid winter would set in before
it was completed, Johnny and himself were at work upon it early and
late, notwithstanding the wind whistled, and it was so cold they
could hardly handle the tools.
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