My family were farmers and our farm sat on a hill just south of town, which made it easy to keep watch over the town below. We had a nice big field that we used as pasture for all our animals—cows, pigs, chickens, and goats—and my father always told me not to leave any grass unharvested.

"We can always use the food," my father would say. "There are some folks in town that might go hungry if it weren't for us."

But there's only so much work that one boy could do alone and even more than my chores I wanted to play with the other boys in town or go down to the stream near our house, but no matter how long I waited my parents always came and dragged me back to work. Whenever they did this, they'd make me write a list of fifteen facts on a piece of paper, over and over. The list went:

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