"That's what I like in the country," said Jack Scales to himself, as he thrust his hands into his pockets and strolled down one of the garden paths. "Humph! Five o'clock, and people snoring in bed, when they might be up and out enjoying this lovely air, the sweet dewy scent of the flowers, and the clear sunshine, and be inhaling health with every breath they draw. Bah! I can't understand how people can lie in bed-- in the country. There is reason in stopping in peaceful thought upon one's pillow in town till nine.--Ah, gardener, nice morning." "Beautiful morning, sir," said John Monnick, touching his hat, and then going on with his task of carefully whetting a scythe, and sending a pleasant ringing sound out upon the sweet silence of the time. "Grass cuts well, eh?" said the doctor. "Yes, sir; crisp, as if there was a white frost on." "Ah, let's try," said the doctor. "I haven't handled a scythe for a good many years now." "No, sir; I s'pose not," said Monnick, with a half-contemptuous smile. "Mind you don't stick the pynte into the ground, sir, and don't ee cut too deep. I like to keep my lawns regular like." "Why don't you have a machine?" said the doctor, taking the scythe, and sweeping it round with a slow measured _swish_ that took off the grass and the dewy daisies to leave a velvet pile. "Machine, sir? Oh, there's two in the potting shed; but I don't want no machines, sir. Noo-fangled things, that breaks a man's back to push 'em along. You has to put yourself in a onnat'ral-like position to work 'em, and when you've done it, the grass don't look like as if it had been mowed.--Well, you do s'prise me, sir; I didn't know as you could mow." "Didn't you, Monnick?" said the doctor, pausing to take the piece of carpet with which the old man wiped the blade, using it, and then reaching out his hand for the long gritty whetstone, with which he proceeded to sharpen the scythe in the most business-like way. "Ah, you never know what a man can do till you try him. You see, Monnick, when I was a young fellow, I often used to cut the Rectory lawns at home." "He's a clever one," muttered the old man, watching intently the rubber, as it was passed with quite a scientific touch up and down and from side to side of the long curved blade. "Man who can mow like that must, be a good doctor. I'll ask him about my 'bago." "There, I'm going for a walk. I'm out of condition too, and mowing touches my back." "Do it now, sir?" said the old man, smiling. "Hah! that's where it lays hold o' me in a rheumaticky sort o' way, sir. You couldn't tell me what'd be good for it, sir, could you? I've tried the iles, but it seems as if it was getting worse." "Oh, I'll give you something, Monnick," said the doctor, laughing; "but, you know, there's a touch of old age in your complaint." "Eh, but I'm afraid there is, sir; but thank you kindly, and you'll forgive me making so bold as to ask."