One man led a cow or a big calf by a rope; one drove a flock of shorn sheep in front of him; another walked behind a sow with her little ones, or a lot of white geese, with their wings tied; another trotted by, riding a sorry nag; while from under many an apron the red comb of a cock peered forth.—The wagons and carts, too, were well laden. Often, from the basketwork and straw within one of them, a hog’s snout would appear, squealing clamorously, till the geese gaggled in consternation, and the dogs that ran to market by their masters’ sides, barked in chorus. But Boryna only left his cabin when the day had fully risen, and the sky had quite cleared. Hanka and Yuzka had started before him at the very break of day, with the sow and the fatted pig; and Antek had taken ten sacks of wheat and fifty pounds of red clover-seed in the cart. Kuba alone had remained at home, with Vitek, and old Yagustynka, hired to cook the dinner and milk the cows. Vitek, who wanted to go to the fair, was blubbering noisily outside the cow-house. “What is the matter with the fool?” Boryna grunted; and making the sign of the Cross, he started off on foot, expecting that someone would give him a lift by the way. Which also came to pass; for just beyond the tavern the organist, who was driving in a britzka with a couple of lusty horses, caught up with him. “What, Matthias, are you on foot?” “Aye, stretching my legs.—Praised be Jesus Christ!” “For ever!” the organist’s wife answered. “Jump up; there is room for you.” “Many thanks. I should have walked, but, as the saying is: ‘They that ride in a cart are ay joyful at heart’”—and he sat down on the front seat, with his back to the horses. “And so young Yanek is not at school now? How’s that?” he inquired of a lad who was driving, and sitting in front with a farm-hand. “Oh, I’m only just here for the fair!” he sang out in reply. He was the organist’s son. His father said, tapping a box which he held out to Boryna: “French snuff: take a pinch.” They both did so, and both sneezed solemnly. “Well, how goes it with you? Selling anything to-day?” “Nothing much. Wheat sent earlier, and a pig, taken by the girls.” “Not bad, not bad at all!” the organist’s wife exclaimed. “Yanek, put this comforter on: it is chilly.” “Oh, I am all right,” he answered; but she insisted on his putting it on. “But,” Boryna pointed out, “think of my expenses; I can scarce pay my way.” “Matthias, do not complain; you have no reason to. Thank God that you have enough.” Boryna, not liking to be thus reproved in the presence of a hired man, leaned forward hastily, and whispered: “Is Yanek to remain at school much longer?” “Only till Easter.” “And after? Is he to stay at home, or become an official?” “My good man, what should he be doing at home? We have lots of children, and only fifteen acres. And times are hard—hard as stones!—There are christenings in plenty indeed; but what do we get from them?”