"That was hardly a proper subject for gossip."
CHAPTER XV
THE CANTALOUPE COAXER
Every spring at the old farm we used to put in a row of hills for
cantaloupes and another for watermelons. But, truth to say, our planting
melons, like our efforts to raise peaches and grapes, was always more or
less of a joke, for frosts usually killed the vines before the melons
were half grown. Nevertheless, spring always filled us with fresh hope
that the summer would prove warm, and that frosts would hold off until
October. But we never really raised a melon fit for the table until the
old Squire and Addison invented the "haymaker."
To make hay properly we thought we needed two successive days of sun.
When rain falls nearly every day haying comes to a standstill, for if
the mown grass is left in the field it blackens and rots; if it is drawn
to the barn, it turns musty in the mow. Usually the sun does its duty,
but once in a while there comes a summer in Maine when there is so much
wet weather that it is nearly impossible to harvest the hay crop. Such a
summer was that of 1868.
At the old farm our rule was to begin haying the day after the Fourth of
July and to push the work as fast as possible, so as to get in most of
the crop before dog-days.
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