"One Sunday morning, after breakfast, I commenced to wash my shirt and overalls, when Henderson called to me, 'Cattle in the peach orchard!' Now, at the further end of the peach orchard there were a hundred nice young trees, covered with tender foliage, looking fine. It seems the cattle got into the orchard in the night and ate all the growth off them, so they looked just like sticks. It really was a shame to see such fine trees damaged in that way, but the boss would not take time to build a good fence around them. That afternoon I went to lie down in the barn; it was hot, the mosquitoes and flies were getting in their best licks at me. I was trying to sleep, and just as I was about succeeding Henderson called out: 'Charles, get your shovel and come quick.' 'What's the matter?' I asked. 'Why, the hogs have played the devil and broke the ditches and the water is running all over Hell.' Mad as I felt about being disturbed, I could not help smiling within at the thought of water running all over hell, and I said to him: 'If those hogs can flood hell with water they ought to be sent to a dime museum.' We went on in silence till we reached the orchard gate, when Henderson said: 'Do you know, I would rather take a licking than open that gate, for it's a back-breaker. It hasn't got a hinge, and is as heavy as an elephant; you have to lift it up and drag it along the ground. It takes more time to hang a gate that way with a band of iron to a post or a bent stick in the place of the iron, than it would to buy two pairs of hinges; and yet that is the only kind he has on the place. It seems as if everything on the place was devised to make work as hard, unhandy, and wrong-end-to as possible.' "That evening when we had gathered together as usual, Harry opened the conversation by saying: 'What a racket there was to-night at supper! It seems to me the whole family is raising hell all the time, but I don't blame the old woman much for giving the boss a jawing about throwing his old broken harness on her bedroom floor, when he came home in the light rig this afternoon.' 'He is always doing such things,' said George. 'The front room is more like an old store-room than anything else. He don't deserve a house; that man ought to live in a barn.'