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"Why, it's a spring such as the old men don't remember the like

of. I was up home; an old man up there has sown wheat too, about

an acre of it. He was saying you wouldn't know it from rye."

"Have you been sowing wheat long?"

"Why, sir, it was you taught us the year before last. You gave me

two measures. We sold about eight bushels and sowed a rood."

"Well, mind you crumble up the clods," said Levin, going towards

his horse, "and keep an eye on Mishka. And if there's a good crop

you shall have half a rouble for every acre."

"Humbly thankful. We are very well content, sir, as it is."

Levin got on his horse and rode towards the field where was last

year's clover, and the one which was ploughed ready for the

spring corn.