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In spite of the old man's complaints, it was evident that he was

proud, and justly proud, of his prosperity, proud of his sons,

his nephew, his sons' wives, his horses and his cows, and

especially of the fact that he was keeping all this farming

going. From his conversation with the old man, Levin thought he

was not averse to new methods either. He had planted a great many

potatoes, and his potatoes, as Levin had seen driving past, were

already past flowering and beginning to die down, while Levin's

were only just coming into flower. He earthed up his potatoes

with a modern plough borrowed from a neighboring landowner. He

sowed wheat. The trifling fact that, thinning out his rye, the

old man used the rye he thinned out for his horses, specially

struck Levin. How many times had Levin seen this splendid fodder

wasted, and tried to get it saved; but always it had turned out

to be impossible. The peasant got this done, and he could not say

enough in praise of it as food for the beasts.