In a previous chapter I told you about the dancing and singing that they are so fond of; but they are not always light-hearted, for there is another and darker side to their lives. The wages are much lower than in England, and the working hours much longer; sunrise to sunset is the measure of labour, and the summer days are long and the sun is cruelly hot. By the time work is over, the tired peasants can often have but little heart left for fun or frolic. Very few agricultural machines are used in Portugal, all the sowing and reaping being done by hand. The grain, too, is threshed out with flails. The workers stand round a heap of maize and swing their flails rhythmically up and down with a dull, thudding sound, till all the grain is threshed out. There is an old folk-song about this which I must quote for you. The feeling that runs all through the verses reveals pathetically the dull monotony of the long hours spent in weary toil. The singer begins by reproaching his flail; then his conscience smites him as he remembers that it is by the aid of this trusty friend that he earns his bread, and that to-morrow will be as to-day--an endless to-morrow of toil and labour. [Music: “O MY FLAIL.” O my flail, my sor-ry flail! A ve-ry clum-sy tool art thou. Ear-ly and late I feel thy weight. The sweat is pour-ing from my brow, Yet my flail, my trust-y flail! My flail that thresh-est out the grain, Though wear-y now, Both I and thou To-mor-row must to work a-gain. The above is a well-known Portuguese folk-song. As is always the case with folk-songs which are traditional, there are slight differences in the versions in use in different places. The above is the version as sung by students at Coimbra. All present should clap their hands on the first three beats of every bar. The author is indebted for the English translation to Mr. Morton Latham.] Wheat is separated from the husk in a very odd way. It is trodden out by oxen, and beans are worked out of their pods in the same manner. The women toil in the fields just as hard as the men--if anything harder, and one may often see a woman carrying a huge load on her head with a man strolling idle and empty-handed beside her. Even the children have to make themselves useful, starting work at a very early age. A solemn little boy or girl carrying a goad twice their own height will walk barefooted in front of ox-cart or plough, guiding the great docile beasts in the way they should go. The children, too, are sent out to herd the cattle and to look after the flocks.