“And the wife and children?”

“Hearty.  Some half-dozen have been added to the flock since you were our way.”

“So much the better—­so much the better.  The more the merrier, Mr. S—–­; children are riches in this country.”

“I know not how that may be; I find it hard to clothe and feed mine.”

“Wait till they grow up; they will be brave helps to you then.  The price of labour—­the price of labour, Mr. S—–­, is the destruction of the farmer.”

“It does not seem to trouble you much, Woodruff,” said my brother, glancing round the well-furnished apartment.

“My son and S—–­ do it all,” cried the old man.  “Of course the girls help in busy times, and take care of the dairy, and we hire occasionally; but small as the sum is which is expended in wages during seed-time and harvest, I feel it, I can tell you.”

“You are married again, Woodruff?”

“No, sir,” said the farmer, with a peculiar smile; “not yet;” which seemed to imply the probability of such an event.  “That tall gal is my eldest daughter; she manages the house, and an excellent housekeeper she is.  But I cannot keep her for ever.”  With a knowing wink, “Gals will think of getting married, and seldom consult the wishes of their parents upon the subject when once they have taken the notion into their heads.  But ’tis natural, Mr. S—–­, it is natural; we did just the same when we were young.”

My brother looked laughingly towards the fine, handsome young woman, as she placed upon the table hot water, whiskey, and a huge plate of plum-cake, which did not lack a companion, stored with the finest apples which the orchard could produce.

The young girl looked down, and blushed.

“Oh, I see how it is, Woodruff!  You will soon lose your daughter.  I wonder that you have kept her so long.  But who are these young ladies?” he continued, as three girls very demurely entered the room.

“The two youngest are my darters, by my last wife, who, I fear, mean soon to follow the bad example of their sister.  The other lady,” said the old man, with a reverential air, “is a particular friend of my eldest darter’s.”

My brother laughed slily, and the old man’s cheek took a deeper glow as he stooped forward to mix the punch.

“You said that these two young ladies, Woodruff, were by your last wife.  Pray how many wives have you had?”

“Only three.  It is impossible, they say in my country, to have too much of a good thing.”

“So I suppose you think,” said my brother, glancing first at the old man and then towards Miss Smith.  “Three wives!  You have been a fortunate man, Woodruff, to survive them all.”

“Ay, have I not, Mr. S—–?  But to tell you the truth, I have been both lucky and unlucky in the wife way,” and then he told us the history of his several ventures in matrimony, with which I shall not trouble my readers.