s, converting saw dust into deal boards, and the other is, a plan of cleaning rooms by a steam engine--and, Farmer, I mean to give prizes for industry--I'll have a ploughing match.
Ash. Will you, zur?
Sir Abel. Yes; for I consider a healthy young man, between the handles of a plough, as one of the noblest illustrations of the prosperity of Britain.
Ash. Faith and troth! there be some tightish hands in theas parts, I promize ye.
Sir Abel. And, Farmer, it shall precede the hymeneal festivities--
Ash. Nan!
Sir Abel. Blockhead! The ploughing match shall take place as soon as Sir Philip Blandford and his daughter arrive.
Ash. Oh, likely, likely.
Enter SERVANT.
Serv. Sir Abel, I beg to say, my master will be here immediately.
Sir Abel. And, sir, I beg to ask who possesses the happiness of being your master?
Serv. Your son, sir, Mr. Robert Han
