"Ole man Spafford," as he announced himself, was a darkey of ancient and venerable mien, tall, gaunt and weatherbeaten. His steed was taller, gaunter and apparently twice as old--an interesting study for the osteologist if there be any such scientific person. "He splendid saddle-hoss, missis," said the old man: "good wuk-hoss too--bery fine hoss." "It seems to me he's rather thin," said Hope doubtfully. "Dat kase we didn't make no corn dis year, de ole woman an' me, we was bofe so bad wid de misery in the leaders" (rheumatism in the legs). "But Sancho won't stay pore ef you buys corn enough, missis. He powerful good horse to eat." Further conversation revealed the fact that old man Spafford was "de chief man ob de chu'ch." "What! a minister?" asked the Invalid. "No, sah, not azatly de preacher, sah, but I'se de nex' t'ing to dat." "What may your office be, then, uncle?" asked the Pessimist. "I'se de section, sah," answered the old man solemnly, making a low bow. "The sexton! So you ring the bell, do you?" "Not azatly de bell, sah--we ain't got no bell--but I bangs on de buzz-saw, sah." "What does he mean?" asked Merry. The Pessimist shrugged his shoulders without answering, but the "section" hastened to explain: "You see, missy, when dey pass roun' de hat to buy a bell dey didn't lift nigh enough; so dey jis' bought a buzz-saw and hung it up in de chu'ch-house; an' I bangs on de buzz-saw, missy." The chief man of the church was found, upon closer acquaintance, to be the subject of a profound conviction that he was the individual predestinated to superintend our farming interests. He was so well persuaded of this high calling that none of us dreamed of questioning it, and he was forthwith installed in the coveted office. At his suggestion another man, Dryden by name, was engaged to assist old man Spafford and take care of Sancho, and a boy, called Solomon, to wait upon Dryden and do chores. A few day-laborers were also temporarily hired, the season being so far advanced and work pressing. The carpenters were recalled, for there was a barn to build, and hen-coops and a pig-sty, not to speak of a fence. Hope and Merry flitted hither and thither armed with all sorts of impossible implements, which some one was sure to want by the time they had worked five minutes with them. As for the Pessimist, he confined himself to setting out orange trees, the only legitimate business, he contended, on the place. This work, however, he performed vicariously, standing by and smoking while a negro set out the trees. "My duties appear to be limited to paying the bills," remarked the Invalid, "and I seem to be the only member of the family who cannot let out the job." "I thought the farm was to be self-supporting?" said the Pessimist. "Well, so it is: wait till the crops are raised," retorted Merry. "Henderson says," observed Hope, meditatively, "that there are six hundred dollars net profits to be obtained from one acre of cabbages."