A fine set of steam-ploughing tackle was put to work, and, having once commenced, the beat of the engines never seemed to cease.  They were for ever at work tearing up the subsoil and bringing it to the surface.  If he could have done it, he would have ploughed ten feet deep.  Tons of artificial manure came by canal boat—­positively boat loads—­and were stored in the warehouse.  For he put up a regular warehouse for the storage of materials; the heavy articles on the ground floor, the lighter above, hoisted up by a small crane.  There was, too, an office, where the ‘engineer’ attended every morning to take his orders, as the bailiff might at the back-door of an old farmhouse.  Substantial buildings were erected for the shorthorn cattle.

The meadows upon the estate, like the corn-fields, were all thrown together, such divisions as were necessary being made by iron railings.  Machines of every class and character were provided—­reaping-machines, mowing-machines, horse-hoes, horse-rakes, elevators—­everything was to be done by machinery.  That nothing might be incomplete, some new and well-designed cottages were erected for the skilled artisans—­they could scarcely be called labourers—­who were engaged to work these engines.  The estate had previously consisted of several small farms:  these were now thrown all into one, otherwise there would not have been room for this great enterprise.

A complete system of booking was organised.  From the sale of a bullock to the skin of a calf, everything was put down on paper.  All these entries, made in books specially prepared and conveniently ruled for the purpose, came under Cecil’s eye weekly, and were by him re-entered in his ledgers.  This writing took up a large part of his time, and the labour was sometimes so severe that he could barely get through it; yet he would not allow himself a clerk, being economical in that one thing only.  It was a saying in the place that not a speck of dust could be blown on to the estate by the wind, or a straw blown off, without it being duly entered in the master’s books.

Cecil’s idea was to excel in all things.  Some had been famous for shorthorns before him, others for sheep, and others again for wheat.  He would be celebrated for all.  His shorthorns should fetch fabulous prices; his sheep should be known all over the world; his wheat should be the crop of the season.  In this way he invested his capital in the soil with a thoroughness unsurpassed.  As if to prove that he was right, the success of his enterprise seemed from the first assured.  His crops of wheat, in which he especially put faith, and which he grew year after year upon the same land, totally ignoring the ancient rotations, were the wonder of the neighbourhood.  Men came from far and near to see them.  Such was the effect of draining, turning up the subsoil, continual ploughing, and the consequent atmospheric action upon the exposed earth, and of liberal manure, that here