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He sent the men to mow some clover for hay, picking out the worst

patches where the clover was overgrown with grass and weeds and

of no use for seed; again and again they mowed the best acres of

clover, justifying themselves by the pretense that the bailiff

had told them to, and trying to pacify him with the assurance

that it would be splendid hay; but he knew that it was owing to

those acres being so much easier to mow. He sent out a hay

machine for pitching the hay-it was broken at the first row

because it was dull work for a peasant to sit on the seat in

front with the great wings waving above him. And he was told,

"Don't trouble, your honor, sure, the womenfolks will pitch it

quick enough." The ploughs were practically useless, because it

never occurred to the laborer to raise the share when he turned

the plough, and forcing it round, he strained the horses and tore

up the ground, and Levin was begged not to mind about it.