If any man takes to farming _poor passer le tongs_, because he likes the amusement, _à la bonhour!_ I have nothing against it, but when he tries to derive advantage from it--pshaw!--Kurz! He may peep into a sugar barrel or into another man's hand at cards; but when he tries to peep into a field of rye, the meaning of what he sees, is hidden from him. But what I was going to say, Charles, is this; I'm here, bag and baggage, next week."--"No, Bräsig, no, if this is going to be a bad year the young people will need you, and Godfrey understands too little about farming to be able to do without your help."--"Yes, Charles, you're right, and if you think I ought--for I have given myself entirely to you--I will stay with him. But now good-bye! I don't know why, but I feel rather stomach-achy, I must go and ask Mrs. Behrens if she can give me a little kümmel." With that he left the room, but next moment he put his head in at the door again, and said: "I had almost forgotten to tell you about Pümpelhagen. There's such an infernally queer kind of farming going on there just now that you might almost warm your hands and feet at it. I met Triddelfitz yesterday near the shed, and although he's an infamous grey-hound, he was nearly crying about it: 'Mr. Bräsig,' he said, 'I lie awake at night bothering over the farming, and tire myself out thinking, till I can't fall asleep at all. When I've got it all beautifully arranged in my head, and have told the people in the morning what they are to do, the squire comes out with his arm in a sling and undoes all my arrangements. He sends the labourers off to the fields in twos and threes, this way and that, so that they are all running about like chickens with their heads cut off, and I have to chase them and gather them all together again. Then when they're all collected and working in the afternoon, he comes out, and scatters them once more.' It must be a great satisfication to you to hear this, Charles, for it shows that they can't get on without you." After that he went away, but soon put his head in again to say: "What I wanted to say, Charles, was this--half of the horses at Pümpelhagen are done up; a few days ago I saw them standing while the carts were being filled with marl, the poor things were hanging their heads and ears down devotion'ly as the labourers do in church, and it isn't over work that makes them do it, but want of food. The squire hasn't too much fodder in his barns, for he sold three loads of oats, and two of peas, to the Jews this spring, and his granary floor is now as empty as if the bull had licked it. He has to buy oats, but the poor farm horses get none, for the oats are all given to the thoroughbred mares who do nothing for their living, and so steal the days when they should be at work from God. There is great injustice in the world! Now good-bye, Charles." He went away really this time.