" "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.