“Hey,” said Adam, with the usual twinkle in his eye, “sae meeast on us think, sor. We wad like te be let alooane an’ just hev wer aun way; grow as wa’ like an’ deea as wa’ like, an’ we fancy ’at we sud gan higher an’ grow bigger, an’ increease i’ strength, bud it’s a grand mistak’, you may depend on ’t. If theease hedges warn’t lopped and trimmed, an’ ivvery noo an’ then chopp’d doon an’ leeaced in, they wad gan sprawlin’ ower t’ rooad o’ yah side, an’ ower t’ clooase on t’ uther, an’ grow thick i’ yah spot an’ thin iv anuther, an’ grow up two or three yards high inte t’ bargan. A rood o’ good land wad be weeasted; t’ sheep wad gan throo t’ gaps, an’t’ sun wad be kept off t’ corn, or t’ tonnops, or t’ rape, or whativver else was growin’, an’ they wad deea a parlous lot o’ mischief. Beeath t’ axe an’ t’ slashin’-knife is good for _them_, an’ they’re varry good for _uz_.” “How do you make that out?” said Philip, amused and interested. He had a glimpse of the old man’s philosophy, and for reasons of his own, was anxious to get him into a free and talking vein. “Why, you see,” said Adam, “human natur’s a poor, prood, wild thing, an’ when it’s left tiv itself, it nat’rally gans in for hevin’ its aun way, an’ gets warse an’ warse. Munny an’ pleasure an’ honour an’ pooer; onything at’ll minister te wer pleasure an’ profit, is seeazed an’ meead t’ meeast on, an’ sae we sud gan te ruin an’ the devil like a beggar o’ horseback. But t’ knife o’ sickness, an’ disappointment, losses an’ trubbles of all sooarts, is used biv a gracious God te bring uz te wer senses, an’ mak’ us think’ aboot summut better. Job tells us that the Lord sticks His knife intiv uz, an’ mak’s uz suffer an’ cry upo’ wer bed i’ strang payne; an’ he says, ‘Theease things worketh God of ’entahmes wi’ man, that he may bring his sowl up oot o’ t’ pit, an’ leeten him wi’ t’ leet o’ the livin’.’ T’ slashin’ ’at Joseph gat i’ t’ pit an’ i’ t’ prison trimm’d him for t’ second chariot i’ Egypt, an’ meead ’im t’ greeatest man i’ t’ cuntry. Maister Philip, leeak at that hedge,” pointing to a long low quickset hedge that divided one field from another. “That hedge is cut loa, an’ slash’d thin, an’ t’ tall tooerin’ branches was chopt hoaf through an’ bent doon inte t’ thorn, an’ if ivvery hoss i’ Farmer Houston’s steeable was te run ageean it, it wad tonn ’em back; for it’s as teeaf as leather, an’ as cloase as a sheet ov iron; an’ it’s all because it’s been kept doon an’ meead te bleed under t’ slashin’-knife.” “Yes, you’re right, Adam,” said the young squire, thoughtfully, as his mind reverted to his own bitter disappointment in regard to his misplaced and baffled love, “only it’s hard to understand and very difficult to bear.”