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作者: Leo Tolstoy

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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.

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