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awling river； and up a dashing brook…side among great hills。 What a day's adventure it was！ It was like a journey to Europe。 The night before； I could scarcely sleep for thinking of it！ and there was no trouble about getting me up at sunrise that morning。 The breakfast was eaten； the luncheon was packed in a large basket； with bottles of root beer and a jug of switchel； which packing I superintended with the greatest interest； and then the cattle were to be collected for the march； and the horses hitched up。 Did I shirk any duty？ Was I slow？ I think not。 I was willing to run my legs off after the frisky steers； who seemed to have an idea they were going on a lark； and frolicked about； dashing into all gates； and through all bars except the right ones； and how cheerfully I did yell at them。
It was a glorious chance to 〃holler；〃 and I have never since heard any public speaker on the stump or at camp…meeting who could make more noise。 I have often thought it fortunate that the amount of noise in a boy does not increase in proportion to his size； if it did； the world could not contain it。
The whole day was full of excitement and of freedom。 We were away from the farm； which to a boy is one of the best parts of farming； we saw other farms and other people at work； I had the pleasure of marching along； and swinging my whip； past boys whom I knew； who were picking up stones。 Every turn of the road； every bend and rapid of the river； the great bowlders by the wayside； the watering…troughs； the giant pine that had been struck by lightning； the mysterious covered bridge over the river where it was； most swift and rocky and foamy； the chance eagle in the blue sky； the sense of going somewhere；why； as I recall all these things I feel that even the Prince Imperial； as he used to dash on horseback through the Bois de Boulogne； with fifty mounted hussars clattering at his heels； and crowds of people cheering； could not have been as happy as was I； a boy in short jacket and shorter pantaloons； trudging in the dust that day behind the steers and colts； cracking my black…stock whip。
I wish the journey would never end； but at last； by noon； we reach the pastures and turn in the herd； and after making the tour of the lots to make sure there are no breaks in the fences； we take our luncheon from the wagon and eat it under the trees by the spring。 This is the supreme moment of the day。 This is the way to live； this is like the Swiss Family Robinson； and all the rest of my delightful acquaintances in romance。 Baked beans； rye…and…indian bread （moist； remember）； doughnuts and cheese； pie； and root beer。 What richness！ You may live to dine at Delmonico's； or； if those Frenchmen do not eat each other up； at Philippe's； in Rue Montorgueil in Paris； where the dear old Thackeray used to eat as good a dinner as anybody； but you will get there neither doughnuts； nor pie； nor root beer； nor anything so good as that luncheon at noon in the old pasture； high among the Massachusetts hills！ Nor will you ever； if you live to be the oldest boy in the world； have any holiday equal to the one I have described。 But I always regretted that I did not take along a fishline； just to 〃throw in〃 the brook we passed。 I know there were trout there。
IV
NO FARMING WITHOUT A BOY
Say what you will about the general usefulness of boys； it is my impression that a farm without a boy would very soon come to grief。 What the boy does is the life of the farm。 He is the factotum； always in demand； always expected to do the thousand indispensable things that nobody else will do。 Upon him fall all the odds and ends； the most difficult things。 After everybody else is through； he has to finish up。 His work is like a woman's；perpetual waiting on others。 Everybody knows how much easier it is to eat a good dinner than it is to wash the dishes afterwards。 Consider what a boy on a farm is required to do； things that must be done； or life would actually stop。
It is understood； in the first place； that he is to do all the errands； to go to the store； to the post office； and to carry all sorts of messages。 If he had as many legs as a centipede； they would tire before night。 His two short limbs seem to him entirely inadequate to the task。 He would like to have as many legs as a wheel has spokes； and rotate about in the same way。 This he sometimes tries to do； and people who have seen him 〃turning cart… wheels〃 along the side of the road have supposed that he was amusing himself； and idling his time； he was only trying to invent a new mode of locomotion； so that he could economize his legs and do his errands with greater dispatch。 He practices standing on his head； in order to accustom himself to any position。 Leapfrog is one of his methods of getting over the ground quickly。 He would willingly go an errand any distance if he could leap…frog it with a few other boys。 He has a natural genius for combining pleasure with business。 This is the reason why； when he is sent to the spring for a pitcher of water； and the family are waiting at the dinner…table； he is absent so long； for he stops to poke the frog that sits on the stone； or； if there is a penstock； to put his hand over the spout and squirt the water a little while。 He is the one who spreads the grass when the men have cut it； he mows it away in the barn； he rides the horse to cultivate the corn； up and down the hot； weary rows； he picks up the potatoes when they are dug； he drives the cows night and morning； he brings wood and water and splits kindling； he gets up the horse and puts out the horse； whether he is in the house or out of it； there is always something for him to do。 Just before school in winter he shovels paths； in summer he turns the grindstone。 He knows where there are lots of winter…greens and sweet flag…root； but instead of going for them； he is to stay in…doors and pare apples and stone raisins and pound something in a mortar。 And yet； with his mind full of schemes of what he would like to do； and his hands full of occupations； he is an idle boy who has nothing to busy himself with but school and chores！ He would gladly do all the work if somebody else would do the chores； he thinks； and yet I doubt if any boy ever amounted to anything in the world； or was of much use as a man； who did not enjoy the advantages of a liberal education in the way of chores。
A boy on a farm is nothing without his pets； at least a dog； and probably rabbits； chickens； ducks； and guinea…hens。 A guinea…hen suits a boy。 It is entirely useless； and makes a more disagreeable noise than a Chinese gong。 I once domesticated a young fox which a neighbor had caught。 It is a mistake to suppose the fox cannot be tamed。 Jacko was a very clever little animal； and behaved； in all respects； with propriety。 He kept Sunday as well as any day； and all the ten commandments that he could understand。 He was a very graceful playfellow； and seemed to have an affection for me。 He lived in a wood…pile in the dooryard； and when I lay down at the entrance to his house and called him； he would come out and sit on his tail and lick my face just like a grown person。 I taught him a great many tricks and all the virtues。 That year I had a large number of hens； and Jacko went about among them with the most perfect indifference； never looking on them to lust after them； as I could see； and never touching an egg or a feather。 So excellent was his reputation that I would have trusted him in the hen…roost in the dark without counting the hens。 In short； he was domesticated； and I was fond of him and very proud of him； exhibiting him to all our visitors as an example of what affectionate treatment would do in subduing the brute instincts。 I preferred him to my dog； whom I had； with much patience； taught to go up a long hill alone and surround the cows； and drive them home from the remote pasture。 He liked the fun of it at first； but by and by he seemed to get the notion that it was a 〃chore；〃 and when I whistled for him to go for the cows； he would turn tail and run the other way； and the more I whistled and threw stones at him； the faster he would run。 His name was Turk； and I should have sold him if he had not been the kind of dog that nobody will buy。 I suppose he was not a cow…dog； but what they call a sheep…dog。 At least； when he got big enough； he used to get into the pasture and chase the sheep to death。 That was the way he got into trouble； and lost his valuable life。 A dog is of great use on a farm； and that is the reason a boy likes him。 He is good to bite peddlers and small children； and run out and yelp at wagons that pass by； and to howl all night when the moon shines。 And yet； if I were a boy again； the first thing I would have should be a dog； for dogs are great companions； and as active and spry as a boy at doing nothing。 They are also good to bark at woodchuck…holes。
A good dog will bark at a woodchuck…hole long after the animal has retired to a remote part of his residence； and escaped by another hole。 This deceives the woodchuck。 Some of the most delightful hours of my life have been spent in hiding and watching the hole where the dog was not。 What an exquisite thrill ran through my frame w