,,the ,,toilers ,,of ,,the ,,field  ,,by
  ,,richard ,,jefferies  ,,author ,,of  
,,the ,,gamekeeper ,,at ,,home1 ,,etc4  
,,etc4  ,illustration3 ,,the ,,silver   
,,library  ,,new ,,impression           
,,longmans1 ,,green1 ,,and ,,co4 #ci    
,,paternoster ,,row1 ,,london ,,new     
,,york ,,and ,,bombay #ahih  ,all rights
 reserved   ,illustration3 ,,richard    
,,jefferies4  ,from the bust by ,miss   
,margaret ,thomas1 in ,salisbury        
,cathedral4  ,photographed by ,mr4      
,owen1 ,salisbury4   ,,bibliographical  
,,note4  ,first ,edition1 ,october      
#ahib4 ,reprinted1 ,november #ahib and  
,january #ahic4 ,issued in ,silver      
,library1 ,november #ahic4 ,reprinted1  
,june #ahih4     ,,preface4   ,the first
 and larger part of this volume1 from   
which it takes its name1 consists of    
papers which will be new to the large   
majority of readers of ,richard         
,jefferies' works4 ,the five entitled1  
,the ,farmer at ,home1 ,the ,labourer's 
,daily ,life1 ,field-faring ,women1 ,an 

,english ,homestead1 and ,john ,smith's 
,shanty1 appeared in ,fraser's ,magazine
 in #ahgd1 long before ,jefferies had   
gained any portion of that fame which   
was so long in coming1 and came in full 
measure too late4 ,of the three letters 
to the ,times1 written in #ahgb1 one was
 republished1 with the permission of    
,mrs4 ,jefferies1 in an appendix to ,mr4
 ,walter ,besant's ,eulogy of ,richard  
,jefferies4 ,it finds its natural place 
in this volume with the other papers1   
which give so clear a picture of the    
life of all classes of the cultivators  
of the soil in the early seventies4 ,the
 ,true ,tale of the ,wiltshire ,labourer
 has never previously been published1   
and is included in this volume by the   
kind permission of ,mr4 ,g4 ,h4 ,harmer 
of the ,wilts and ,gloucestershire      
,standard1 for which paper it was       
written when ,jefferies was on its      
staff1 but for some reason was never    
used4  ,all the papers in ,part ,,ii4   
have appeared in ,longman's ,magazine1  

since ,jefferies' death1 and though they
 are with one exception very slight1 yet
 they are all characteristic specimens  
of his work4 ,from internal evidence it 
appears certain that the longest of     
them1 entitled ,the ,coming of ,summer1 
was written on ,june #a1 #ahha1 and the 
subsequent days4 ,it contains one or two
 points of resemblance with the famous  
,pageant of ,summer1 which appeared in  
,longman's ,magazine for ,june #ahhc4   
,it was perhaps the first study of which
 that paper is the finished picture4    
,the frontispiece is reproduced by kind 
permission of ,mr4 ,j4 ,owen of         
,salisbury1 from a photograph taken by  
him of ,miss ,thomas' bust of ,jefferies
 in ,salisbury ,cathedral4  ,c4 ,j4     
,,longman4     ,,contents4   ,,part ,i4 
,,page  ,,the ,,farmer ,,at ,,home      
#c  ,,the ,,labourer',s ,,daily ,,life  
#fj  ,,field-,,faring ,,women           
#aaa  ,,an ,,english ,,homestead        
#aea  ,,john ,,smith',s ,,shanty        
#age  ,,wiltshire ,,labourers 7,,letters

 ,,to ,,the ,,times7    #baa  ,a ,,true 
,,tale ,,of ,,the ,,wiltshire ,,labourer
           #bei   ,,part ,,ii4  ,,the   
,,coming ,,of ,,summer                  
#bhi  ,,the ,,golden-,,crested ,,wren   
#cac  ,,an ,,extinct ,,race             
#cae  ,,orchis ,,mascula                
#cai  ,,the ,,lions ,,in ,,trafalgar    
,,square                   #cba         
,,part ,i4     ,,the ,,farmer ,,at      
,,home4   ,the new towns1 or suburbs    
which spring up every year in the       
neighbourhood of ,london1 are all built 
upon much the same plan4 ,whole streets 
of houses present exact duplicates of   
each other1 even to the number of steps 
up to the front door and the position of
 the scraper4 ,in the country1 where a  
new farmhouse is erected about once in  
twenty years1 the styles of architecture
 are as varied and as irregular as in   
town they are prim and uniform4 ,the    
great mass of farmhouses are old1 and   
some are very picturesque4 ,there was a 
farmhouse ,i knew which was almost      

entitled to be taken as the type of an  
,english rural homestead4 ,it was built 
at a spot where the open wild down      
suddenly fell away into rich meadow     
land4 ,here there was a narrow          
steep-sided valley1 or combe--and at the
 mouth of this1 well sheltered on three 
sides from the north1 the east1 and     
north-eastern winds1 stood the          
homestead4 ,a spring arose some way     
behind1 and close to the house widened  
into a pool which was still further     
enlarged by means of a dam1 forming a   
small lake of the clearest water4 ,this 
lake fed a mill-race lower down4 ,the   
farmyard and rick-barton were a little  
way up the narrow valley1 on one side of
 which there was a rookery4 ,the house  
itself was built in the pure            
,elizabethan style2 with mullioned      
windows1 and innumerable gables roofed  
with tiles4 ,nor was it wanting in the  
traditions of the olden time4 ,this fine
 old place was the homestead of a large 
farm comprising some of the best land of

 the district1 both down and meadow4    
,another farmhouse1 still used for that 
purpose1 stands upon the wildest part of
 the down1 and is built of flint and    
concrete4 ,it was erected nearly three  
hundred years ago1 and is of unusual    
size4 ,the woodwork is all solid black  
oak1 good enough for an earl's mansion4 
,these are specimens of the highest     
class of farmhouse4 ,immediately beneath
 them come the houses built in the early
 part of the present century4 ,they vary
 in almost every architectural detail1  
and the materials differ in each county2
 but the general arrangement is the     
same4 ,they consist as it were of two   
distinct houses under one roof4 ,the    
front is the dwelling-house proper1     
usually containing a kitchen1           
sitting-room1 and parlour4 ,the back    
contains the wood-house 7coal-house     
now71 the brewhouse--where the beer was 
brewed1 which frequently also had an    
oven--and1 most important of all1 the   
dairy4 ,all this part of the place is   

paved with stone flags1 and the dairy is
 usually furnished with lattice-work in 
front of the windows1 so that they can  
be left open to admit the cool air and  
not thieves4 ,coolness is the great     
requisite in a dairy1 and some gentlemen
 who make farming a science go to the   
length of having a fountain of water    
constantly playing in it4 ,these houses1
 however1 were built before scientific  
agriculture was thought of4 ,the        
wood-house contained the wood used for  
cooking and domestic purposes2 for at   
that date wood was universally used in  
the country1 and coal rarely seen4 ,the 
wood was of course grown on the farm1   
for which purpose those wide double     
mound hedges1 now rapidly disappearing1 
were made4 ,it was considered a good    
arrangement to devote half-an-acre in   
some outlying portion of the farm       
entirely to wood1 not only for the fire1
 but for poles1 to make posts and rails1
 gates1 ladders1 c4 ,the coal could not 
in those days be conveyed so cheaply as 

it now is by railways4 ,such as was used
 had to be brought by the slow barges on
 the canals1 or else was fetched by the 
farmers' waggons direct from the        
pit-mouth4 ,the teams were not          
unfrequently absent two days and a night
 on the journey4 ,in the outlying       
districts this difficulty in obtaining  
coal practically restricted the         
available fuel to wood4 ,now the        
wood-house is used as much for coal as  
wood4 ,of course the great stacks of    
wood--the piles of faggots and          
logs--were kept outside1 generally in   
the same enclosure as the ricks1 only a 
sufficient number for immediate use     
being kept under cover4 ,the brewhouse  
was an important feature when all       
farmers brewed their own beer and baked 
their own bread4 ,at present the great  
majority purchase their beer from the   
brewers1 although some still brew large 
quantities for the labourers' drinking  
in harvest time4 ,at a period when      
comparatively little ready money passed 

between employer and employed1 and the  
payment for work was made in kind1 beer 
was a matter which required a great deal
 of the attention of the farmer1 and    
absorbed no little of his time4 ,at this
 day it is a disputed matter which is   
cheapest1 to buy or to brew beer3 at    
that time there was no question about   
it4 ,it was indisputably economical to  
brew4 ,the brewhouse was not necessarily
 confined to that use2 when no brewing  
was in progress it was often made a kind
 of second dairy4 ,over these offices   
was the cheese-room4 ,this was and still
 is a long1 large1 and lofty room in    
which the cheese after being made is    
taken to dry and harden4 ,it is         
furnished with a number of shelves upon 
which the cheeses are arranged1 and as  
no two can be placed one on the other in
 the early stage of their maturing1 much
 space is required4 ,it is the duty of  
the dairymaid and her assistant to turn 
these cheeses every morning--a work     
requiring some strength4 ,in this part  

of the house are the servants' rooms4   
,in front of the dairy and brewhouse is 
a paved court enclosed with a wall1 and 
in this court it was not uncommon to    
find a well1 or hog-tub1 for the refuse 
of the dairy4 ,sometimes1 but not often 
now1 the pig-stye is just outside the   
wall which surrounds the court4 ,in this
 court1 too1 the butter is generally    
churned1 under a skilling which covers  
half of it4 ,here also the buckets are  
washed1 and other similar duties        
performed4 ,the labourers come here to  
receive their daily allowance of beer4  
,most farmhouses in large arable farms  
were originally built so as to have a   
small dairy at the back2 though there   
was a time when the arable farmer never 
thought of keeping a cow1 and butter and
 cheese were unknown1 except as         
luxuries1 in his establishment4 ,this   
was during the continuance of the ,corn 
,laws1 when everything was sacrificed to
 the one great object of growing wheat4 
,it was not impossible in those days to 

find a whole parish 7,i know of one     
myself7 in which there was not a single 
cow4 ,now the great object is meat1 then
 it was corn4 ,but at the time when most
 of the farmhouses were erected1 the    
system of agriculture pursued was a     
judicious mixture of the dairy and the  
cornfield1 so that very few old         
farmhouses exist which have not some    
form of dairy attached4 ,in the         
corn-growing times1 most of the verdant 
meadows now employed to graze cattle1 or
 for producing hay1 were ploughed up4   
,this may be seen by the regular        
furrows1 unmistakable evidences of the  
plough4 ,when corn declined in price    
through the influx of foreign produce1  
the land was again laid down in grass1  
and most of it continues so till this   
hour4 ,it might be roughly estimated    
that ,england now contains a third more 
meadow land than in the early part of   
the present century1 notwithstanding the
 attempt to plough up the downs4  ,we   
now come to the third class of          

farmsteads--low thatched buildings1     
little better than large cottages1 and  
indeed frequently converted into        
dwellings for labourers4 ,these are     
generally found on small farms1 and in  
districts where there are a number of   
small landed proprietors4 ,these        
freeholders built houses according to   
their means4 ,in process of time they   
were bought up by the great landowners1 
and the farms thrown together1 when the 
houses were used for other purposes4    
,some may still be found1 especially in 
dairy districts4 ,in these the principal
 part of the house is usually the dairy1
 which absorbs at least half of the     
ground floor1 and opens on the kitchen1 
in which the family sit1 and in which   
their food is often cooked4 ,the eaves  
of the house are low1 and there are     
scarcely any appliances for comfort4    
,the yeomen who originally lived in     
these places in all respects resembled  
the labourers with whom they ate and    
drank and held the most familiar        

intercourse4 ,their labourers even slept
 in the same bedrooms as the family4    
,but these men1 though they mingled so  
freely with the labourer1 were his worst
 enemy4 ,the little profit they made was
 entirely accumulated by careful        
economy4 ,they were avaricious and      
penurious to the last degree1 and       
grudged every halfpenny to the labouring
 man4 ,they were1 and the remnant of    
them still are1 the determined opponent 
of all progress4 ,the interior of some  
of these cottage-farmsteads1 which still
 exist1 is almost ,dutch-like in        
simplicity and homeliness4 ,the         
fireplace is of a vast size1 fitted with
 antique iron dogs for burning wood1 and
 on it swing the irons to sustain the   
great pot4 ,on each side1 right under   
the chimney1 are seats1 the ingle-nook  
of olden times4 ,the chimney itself is  
very large1 being specially built for   
the purpose of curing sides of bacon by 
smoking4 ,the chimneypiece is ornamented
 with a few odd figures in              

crockery-ware1 half-a-dozen old brass   
candlesticks1 and perhaps a snuff-box or
 tobacco dish4 ,the floor is composed of
 stone flags--apt to get slimy and damp 
when the weather is about to change--and
 the wide chinks between them are filled
 with hardened dirt4 ,in the centre     
there is a piece of carpet on which the 
table stands1 but the rest of the room  
is bare of carpeting1 except the        
hearth-rug4 ,the low window has a seat  
let into the wall under it4 ,the        
furniture of the apartment is           
utilitarian in the strictest sense4     
,there is nothing there for ornament or 
luxury1 or even for ease2 only what is  
absolutely necessary4 ,generally there  
is a dresser1 above which1 on shelves1  
the dishes and plates are arranged4 ,a  
tall upright eight-day clock1 with a    
brazen face1 and an inscription which   
tells that it was manufactured in a     
neighbouring village1 stands in one     
corner1 and solemnly ticks in its       
coffin-like panelled case4 ,on each side

 of the fireplace there is an arm-chair1
 often cushioned with a fox or badger   
skin1 and a great brazen warming-pan    
hangs near the door4 ,there is no       
ceiling properly so called4 ,these old  
houses were always built with a huge    
beam1 and you can see the boards of the 
floor above1 which are merely           
whitewashed4 ,a fowling-piece1 once a   
flint-lock1 now converted to the        
percussion cap system1 hangs against the
 beam1 and sometimes dried herbs may be 
seen there too4 ,the use of herbs is1   
however1 going out of date4 ,in the     
evening when the great logs of wood     
smoulder upon the enormous hearth and   
cast flickering shadows on the walls1   
revealing the cat slumbering in the     
ingle-nook1 and the dog blinking on the 
rug--when the farmer slowly smokes his  
long clay pipe with his jug of ale      
beside him1 such an interior might      
furnish a good subject for a painter4   
,let the artist who wishes to secure    
such a scene from oblivion set to work  

speedily1 for these things are fast     
fading away4  ,all these three classes  
of farmhouse are usually well supplied  
with vegetables from the garden         
attached4 ,the garden in fact was1 and  
still is1 an object of considerable     
importance to the farmer1 quite as much 
as the allotment to the labourer4 ,he   
reckons to receive from it his whole    
supply of potatoes1 cabbages1 beans1    
peas1 and other varieties of table      
vegetables1 and salads4 ,these          
constitute an important item when there 
is a large family4 ,i do not speak now  
of the great farmers1 although even     
these set some store by such produce1   
but the middle class4 ,it is usual in   
these gardens to grow immense quantities
 of cabbage of a coarse kind1 and also  
of lettuce1 onions1 and radishes1 all of
 which are freely given to the men and  
women working on the place during the   
harvest4 ,they are1 in fact1 grown      
especially for them4 ,at the dinner-hour
 one or more men of the number1 deputed 

by the rest1 come up to the house4 ,one 
carries the wooden bottles1 or small    
barrels of ale1 which are handed out    
from the dairy4 ,the other repairs to   
the garden1 and pulls up a reasonable   
quantity of lettuce1 onions1 or         
radishes1 as the case may be1 from the  
patches indicated to him by the         
employer4 ,these are then washed in the 
court by the dairy1 where there is      
almost always a pump1 and are then taken
 out to the men and shared amongst them4
 ,these salads make an agreeable        
addition to the dry bread and cheese1 or
 bacon4 ,the custom is an old one1 and  
much to be commended4 ,it costs the     
employer next to nothing1 and is an     
element in that goodwill which should   
exist between him and the labourer4  ,on
 some farms large quantities of fruit   
are grown--such as gooseberries1        
currants1 plums1 and damsons4 ,most have
 enough for their own use2 some sell a  
considerable amount4 ,outside the garden
 is the orchard4 ,some of these orchards

 are very extensive1 even in districts  
where cider is not the ordinary         
beverage1 and in a good apple year the  
sale of the apples forms an important   
item in the peculiar emoluments of the  
farmer's wife4 ,there are1 of course1   
many districts in which the soil is not 
adapted to the apple1 but as a rule the 
orchard is an adjunct of the garden4    
,some of the real old ,english          
farmsteads possess the crowning delight 
of a filbert walk1 but these are rare   
now4 ,in fact the introduction of       
machinery and steam1 and the general    
revolution which has been going on in   
agriculture1 has gone far to sweep away 
these more pleasant and home-like       
features of the farm4 ,it becomes daily 
more and more like a mere official      
residence1 so to speak4 ,the peculiar   
home-like aspect of a farmhouse is      
gradually disappearing4  ,the daily life
 of the middle-class dairy farmer begins
 at five in the morning4 ,rising about  
that hour1 his first duty is to see that

 the men have all appeared1 and that    
they are engaged in milking the cows4   
,he breakfasts at six1 or half-past1 and
 the whole family have finished         
breakfast before seven4 ,by this time   
the day-labourers have come 7the milkers
 are usually hired by the year71 and the
 master has to go out and put them on to
 their jobs4 ,meantime the dairy is a   
scene of work and bustle2 cheesemaking  
being in full swing4 ,this is at least  
superintended1 if not partly performed1 
by the mistress of the house4 ,at larger
 farms it is the bailiff who rises early
 and sees that the labourers are        
properly employed2 and the cheesemaking 
is entrusted to a dairymaid hired at    
high wages1 who often combines with that
 duty the office of general housekeeper4
 ,it was once the practice to rise even 
earlier than five1 but there are not    
many farmers who do so now4 ,on the     
arable farm1 which is generally much    
larger1 the master has almost always got
 a bailiff1 or head-carter1 whom he can 

trust to see the men set to work4 ,the  
master is therefore not obliged to come 
down so soon1 except at important       
seasons4 ,but the ordinary dairy-farm is
 not large enough to support a bailiff1 
and the master has to rise himself4 ,the
 fresh morning air and the exercise give
 the farmer a tremendous appetite for   
breakfast4 ,the usual staple food       
consists of thick rashers of bacon only 
just done1 so as to retain most of the  
fat1 the surplus of which is carefully  
caught on slices of bread4 ,the town    
rasher is crisp1 curled1 and brown1     
without a symptom of fat or grease4 ,the
 farmer's early rasher is to a town eye 
but half-done1 bubbling with grease1 and
 laid on thick slices of bread1 also    
saturated with the gravy4 ,sometimes    
cold bacon is preferred1 but it is      
almost always very fat4 ,with this he   
drinks a pint or so of fairly strong    
beer1 and afterwards has a hunch of     
bread and butter and a cup or two of    
tea4 ,he is then well fortified for the 

labour of the morning4 ,this is the     
common breakfast of the working-farmer1 
who is as much a labouring man as any   
cottager on his farm1 and requires a    
quantity of solid food4 ,some1 however1 
who are pretty well off1 and have a     
better idea of the luxuries of the      
table1 regale themselves on collared    
head1 or rolled beef1 or ham at         
breakfast4 ,these hams are usually      
preserved after a family receipt1 and   
some of them are exquisite4 ,after      
breakfast the farmer walks round the    
place1 watches the men at work for a few
 minutes1 and gives them instructions1  
and then settles himself down to some   
job that requires his immediate         
superintendence4 ,if it is hay-time he  
takes a rake and works about the field1 
knowing full well all the difference    
that his presence makes4  ,the          
agricultural labourers1 both men and    
women1 are a slow set1 never in a hurry2
 there is none of that bustle           
characteristic of the town people1 even 

of the lowest class4 ,they take every   
opportunity of leaning upon the         
prong-handle1 or standing in the        
shade--they seem to have no idea of     
time4 ,women are a sore trial to the    
patience of the agriculturist in a busy 
time4 ,if you want to understand why1 go
 and ensconce yourself behind a hedge1  
out of sight but in view of a field in  
which ten or twelve women are hoeing4   
,by and by a pedlar or a van comes      
slowly along the turnpike road which    
runs past the field4 ,at the first sound
 of footsteps or wheels all the bent    
backs are straight in an instant1 and   
all the work is at a standstill4 ,they  
stand staring at the van or tramp for   
five or six minutes1 till the object of 
attention has passed out of sight4 ,then
 there is a little hoeing for three or  
four consecutive minutes4 ,by that time 
one of them has remembered some little  
bit of gossip1 and stops to tell her    
nearest fellow-workwoman1 and the rest  
at once pause to listen4 ,after a while 

they go on again4 ,now another vehicle  
passes along the road1 and the same     
process of staring has to be gone       
through once more4 ,if a lady or        
gentleman pass1 the staring is something
 terrific1 and it takes quite ten       
minutes to discuss all the probabilities
 as to who they were1 and where they    
were going4 ,this sort of thing goes on 
all day1 so that1 in point of fact1 they
 only do half a day's work4 ,the men are
 not so bad as this2 but they never let 
slip an opportunity for pausing in their
 work1 and even when at work they do it 
in a slow1 dawdling1 lack-energy way    
that is positively irritating to watch4 
,the agriculturist has in consequence   
plenty to do to keep his eye on them1   
and in the course of the day he walks   
over his farm half-a-dozen times at     
least4 ,very few ordinary working       
farmers walk much less than ten miles a 
day on the average1 backwards and       
forwards over the fields4  ,half-past   
eleven used to be luncheon time1 but now

 it is about twelve1 except in harvest1 
when1 as work begins earlier1 it is at  
eleven4 ,this luncheon hour is another  
source of constant irritation to the    
agriculturist4 ,he does not wish to bind
 his men down to an exact minute1 and if
 a man has some distance to walk to his 
cottage1 will readily make all          
allowance4 ,he does not stint the beer  
carried out either then or in the field4
 ,but do what he likes1 be as           
considerate as he will1 and let the     
season be never so pressing1 it is      
impossible to get the labourers out to  
their work when the hour is up4 ,most of
 them go to sleep1 and have to be waked 
up1 after which they are as stupid as   
owls for a quarter of an hour4 ,one or  
two1 it will be found1 have strolled    
down to the adjacent ale-house1 and are 
missing4 ,these will come on the field  
about an hour later4 ,then one man has a
 rake too heavy for him1 and another a  
prong too light4 ,there is always some  
difficulty in starting to work2 the     

agriculturist must therefore be himself 
present if he wishes to get the         
labourers out to the field in anything  
like a moderate time4  ,the nuisance of 
mowers must be gone through to be       
appreciated4 ,they come and work very   
well for the first week4 ,they slash    
down acre after acre1 and stick to it   
almost day and night4 ,in consequence   
the farmer puts on every man who applies
 for work1 everything goes on           
first-rate1 and there is a prospect of  
getting the crop in speedily4 ,at the   
end of the week the mowers draw their   
money1 quite a lump for them1 and away  
they go to the ale-house4 ,saturday     
night sees them as drunk as men can be4 
,they lie about the fields under the    
hedges all day ,sunday1 drinking when   
the public-house is open4 ,monday       
morning they go on to work for          
half-an-hour1 but the fever engendered  
by so much liquor1 and the disordered   
state of the stomach1 cause a burning   
thirst4 ,they fling the scythes down1   

and go off to the barrel4 ,during all   
this week perhaps between them they     
manage to cut half an acre4 ,what is the
 result8 ,the haymakers have made all   
the grass that was cut the first week   
into hay1 and are standing about idle1  
unable to proceed1 but still drawing    
their wages from the unfortunate        
agriculturist4 ,the hot sun is burning  
on--better weather for haymaking could  
not be--but there is not a rood of grass
 cut for them to work on4 ,after a while
 the mowers come back1 thoroughly tired 
and exhausted with their debauch1 and go
 on feebly to work4 ,there is hope      
again4 ,but our climate is notoriously  
changeable4 ,a fortnight of warm1 close 
heat is pretty sure to breed a          
thunderstorm4 ,accordingly1 just as the 
scythes begin to lay the tall grass     
prostrate again1 there is a growl in the
 sky1 and down comes the rain4 ,a       
thunderstorm unsettles the weather1 and 
here is perhaps another week lost4 ,the 
farmer dares not discharge his          

haymakers1 because he does not know but 
that he may require them any day4 ,they 
are put to turn dung-heaps1 clean out   
the yards1 pick up the weeds in the     
garden1 and such like little jobs1 over 
which they can dawdle as much as they   
like4 ,all the while they are on full   
pay4 ,now1 what manufacturer could      
endure such conduct as this8 ,is it not 
enough to drive a saint out of his      
patience8 ,of course the larger farmers 
who can afford it have the resource of  
the mowing-machine1 but there are       
hundreds and thousands of farms upon    
which its sharp rattle has not yet been 
heard4 ,there is still a great          
divergence of opinion as to its merits1 
many maintaining that it does not cut so
 close to the ground1 and therefore     
wastes a large percentage of the crop1  
and others that the action of the       
scissor-like knives bruises the grass1  
and prevents it growing up into a good  
after-math4 ,therefore many farmers who 
could afford it will not admit the      

mowing-machine into their fields1 and   
the mowers may still be seen at work    
over miles and miles of meadow1 and are 
still the plague of the agriculturist4  
,the arable farmer has just the same    
difficulty to keep his labourers at     
their work1 and unless he is constantly 
on the watch valuable time is lost      
daily4 ,in the harvest1 however1 he has 
an advantage4 ,the corn is reaped by    
piece-work1 and the labourers therefore 
strain every nerve to do as much as they
 can4 ,but then he must be on the       
lookout to see that they do not scamp   
it4  ,the traditional bacon and greens  
dinner is passing away1 though still the
 usual fare in the small farmhouses4    
,most of the fairly well-to-do farmers  
have a joint twice or three times a     
week1 well supported with every kind of 
vegetable4 ,there is no attempt at      
refinement in cooking1 but there is     
plenty of good substantial food4  ,the  
hill farmer1 whose staple is sheep and  
wool1 has generally a great deal of     

walking or riding to get over in the    
day4 ,the down farms are sometimes very 
large1 running perhaps in long narrow   
strips of land for two or three miles4  
,although he employs a head-shepherd1   
and even a bailiff1 he finds it         
necessary1 if he would succeed in making
 a profit1 to be pretty well ubiquitous4
 ,they all want looking after sharply4  
,not that there is much actual          
dishonesty2 but would any manufacturer  
endure to have his men sitting doing    
nothing on their benches for fifteen    
minutes out of every hour of the working
 day1 just because his back was turned8 
,the hill farmer has1 perhaps1 a        
preferable life in some respects to the 
agriculturist in the vale4 ,he has not  
so much actual manual labour to get     
through4 ,on the other hand1 he is at a 
great distance from any town1 or even   
large village2 he sees no one during the
 day1 and he has to run great risks4    
,wool may fall1 so may the price of     
mutton1 either of which would derange   

his calculations2 or the fly may destroy
 his turnips1 or the season may be      
exceptionally dry and unfavourable4 ,his
 house is lonely1 perched on the side of
 a hill1 and exposed to the bitter      
blasts of winter which sweep over the   
downs with resistless fury1 and which no
 doors nor windows can exclude4 ,if     
there should be snow1 it is sure to fall
 in greater quantities on the hills1    
and1 driving before the wind1 fills up  
the hollows1 till the roads are         
impassable for weeks4  ,taking all the  
year round1 the work of the             
agriculturist begins and ends with the  
rising and setting of the sun4 ,there is
 an exception1 because the cows must be 
milked and foddered nearly as early in  
the winter1 when the sun rises very     
late1 as at other seasons2 but then1 to 
make up for that1 work ends earlier in  
the afternoon4 ,in the spring1 as the   
evenings draw out1 there is almost      
always something to be done even after  
the labourers have left4 ,in harvest    

time1 the superintendence of work       
continues till late1 and in the autumn  
labour is not unfrequently prolonged    
into the moonlight1 in order to carry   
the corn4 ,it is a life1 on the whole1  
of hard work4  ,in all this ,i speak of 
the ordinary middle-class farmer4 ,the  
life of the higher class of             
agriculturists1 who possess large       
capital1 and employ bailiffs and all    
kinds of machinery1 is of course not by 
any means so onerous4 ,it is in general 
character pretty much that of an        
independent gentleman1 with the addition
 of the sporting element1 and a certain 
freedom from drawing-room trammels4  ,to
 get at the physique of the             
agriculturists1 the best plan is to pay 
a visit to the market-town4 ,here almost
 every farmer in the neighbourhood1 no  
matter of what class--highest1 middle1  
or lowest--is nearly sure to be seen on 
market-days4 ,the upper class come in in
 their smart waggonettes1 or dog-carts1 
drawn by thoroughly good and stylish    

horses1 which are little1 if at all1    
inferior to those of the gentry4 ,some  
of these keep their groom and coachman1 
who dress in livery of a quiet and      
subdued kind1 but still unmistakably a  
livery4 ,the middle-class come in in    
traps1 or old-fashioned four-wheelers1  
generally bringing their wives and      
daughters1 to do the shopping of the    
week4 ,the market-day is1 in fact1 the  
event of the week1 and the streets of   
the market-town are the ,rotten ,row of 
the neighbourhood4 ,the wives and       
daughters come in their best dresses1   
and promenade up and down1 and many a   
flirtation goes on with the young bucks 
of the district4 ,the lower class of    
farmers jog in on their mares1 rough as 
cart-horses1 and the rider generally so 
manages to seat himself as to show three
 or four inches of stocking between his 
trousers and boots4 ,after the market is
 over1 and the dealing done1 the farmers
 resort to the various inns1 and dine at
 the market ordinary4 ,a very good      

dinner is usually provided at a low     
charge on these days4 ,soup is not      
usual1 the dinner generally beginning   
with fish1 followed by joints1 and fowl 
of various kinds4 ,wine whips are       
formed1 and the sherry circulates       
freely4 ,there is a regular chairman1   
always a man of property and influence1 
and an old frequenter of the place4     
,after dinner they sit an hour or two   
discussing1 not only the price of sheep 
and wool or mutton1 but the political   
and other events of the day4 ,the       
,chambers of ,agriculture are generally 
so arranged as to meet on market-days1  
about an hour after the ordinary        
finishes1 and not unfrequently in the   
same room4 ,the market-towns derive     
great benefit from this habit of        
congregating on the market-day4 ,it is  
the day1 too1 for paying visits by the  
ladies4 ,gay costumes pass through the  
streets1 and bright eyes look out of the
 windows of the hotels upon the crowd of
 farmers4 ,the yards of the various     

hostelries are made almost impassable by
 the innumerable variety of vehicles4   
,the young farmers take the opportunity 
of playing a game at billiards1 which   
they rarely do on other days4 ,the news 
of the whole countryside is exchanged1  
and spreads from mouth to mouth1 and is 
carried home and sent farther on its    
way4 ,one great characteristic is the   
general good-humour that prevails4 ,the 
laugh and the joke are frequently       
heard--it is a kind of moderate         
gala-day4 ,the fishmonger's shop is     
emptied1 and the contents carried home1 
this being the only day in the week when
 fish is bought by the majority of      
agriculturists4 ,some towns have only   
what is called a gin-and-water market3  
that is1 the deal is begun and concluded
 from small samples carried in the      
pocket and examined at an inn over a    
glass of spirits and water4 ,but in the 
great market-towns there is now almost  
always a large room1 or hall1 set aside 
for this special purpose4 ,the market   

begins and concludes at a fixed time1   
indicated by the ringing of a bell4 ,in 
this hall the dealers have stands1      
furnished with desks1 at which they may 
always be found1 and here sacks of      
samples are pitched4 ,there is a clerk  
of the market1 and the current prices   
are posted up1 and afterwards sent to   
all the local newspapers4 ,the          
cattle-market used to be carried on     
entirely in the streets1 each farmer    
selling his own beasts or sheep by      
private treaty with the dealers4 ,the   
streets were then often filled with     
cattle from one end to the other1 and   
were almost impassable for vehicles1 and
 at times not a little dangerous for    
foot-passengers4 ,now the practice of   
selling by auction has become very      
general1 and the cattle are either put  
into the auctioneer's private yard1 or  
in an enclosure provided by the town    
authorities4 ,the corn-dealers are a    
most energetic class of men1 well       
educated1 and often employing large     

capital in their business4 ,they are    
perpetually travelling1 and often attend
 two markets a day4 ,having struck a    
bargain1 the farmer and the purchaser   
adjourn to the hotel1 and have a glass  
of spirits1 without which no transaction
 seems complete4 ,the use of beer has   
very much declined among the fairly     
well-to-do agriculturists4 ,they drink  
it at dinner and lunch1 but whenever a  
glass is taken with a friend1 or in     
calling at an inn1 it is almost         
invariably spirits4 ,whisky has been    
most extensively drunk of late years4   
,no other class of men employing so much
 capital and so many labourers are so   
simple in their habits as the           
agriculturists4 ,in dress they adhere to
 the plainest colours and shapes2 there 
is no attempt to keep pace with the     
fashion4 ,the materials of the coat and 
vest are good1 and even expensive1 but  
the cut is old and out of date1 and the 
whole effect quite plain4 ,there is no  
shirt front1 no studs1 no rings1 no kid 

gloves4 ,the boots are strong and thick1
 substantial1 but not ornamental4 ,a man
 with his ten or fifteen thousand       
perhaps will walk down the street       
buttoned up in an ungainly greatcoat and
 an old hat1 not half so smartly dressed
 as a well-paid mechanic1 and far behind
 the drapers' assistants in style4      
,there is a species of contempt among   
them for the meretricious and showy2    
they believe in the solid4 ,this very   
fact makes them good friends to         
shopkeepers1 who have no better         
customers4 ,they carry this leading idea
 too far1 for they admire an article in 
precisely a corresponding ratio to the  
money it costs1 totally oblivious of all
 considerations of art or ornament4 ,the
 first question invariably is1 if they  
are asked to admire anything1 ,what did 
it cost8 ,this results in a heavy and   
cumbrous style of furniture even in the 
best farmsteads4 ,everything must be    
massive1 costly1 and strong4 ,artistic  
tendencies they have none4 ,they want   

something durable1 and they get it4 ,but
 on the whole they make marvellously    
little show for their money4 ,hundreds  
of the most substantial agriculturists1 
whose cheques would be honoured for     
thousands of pounds1 seem absolutely to 
make no show at all4 ,at the same time  
it is quite true that some of the rising
 generation1 who have very little to do 
it on1 make a great display with hunters
 and plated harness1 and so forth4 ,but 
they are not the rule4 ,the generality  
go just the other way1 and live below   
their income1 and take a lower station  
in society than they might reasonably   
claim4  ,farmers are decidedly a        
marrying class of men4 ,the farm is a   
business in which a wife is of material 
service1 and can really be a helpmate4  
,the lower class of farmers usually     
marry quite as much or more for that    
reason than any others4 ,the higher     
classes of agriculturists feel that they
 have a right to marry because they too 
can show a home in which to keep a wife4

 ,though they may not have any large    
amount of capital1 still they possess a 
good house and sufficient provision4    
,they are1 therefore1 a marrying class  
of men1 but do not commonly contract    
matrimonial alliances very early in     
life4 ,the great object of an           
agriculturist who has sons is to get    
them settled in farms1 and it is        
astonishing to what an extent this is   
carried by men who do not seem to have  
much capital to start their children    
with4 ,instances are common in which a  
man has three or four sons all in farms1
 and doing fairly well4 ,one of the     
greatest difficulties he has to contend 
against is the necessity of providing   
education4 ,where is a farmer1 living   
perhaps two or three miles1 often enough
 four and six miles1 from a town1 to    
send his boys to school8 ,the upper     
class of agriculturists can1 of course1 
afford to have a proper governess at    
home till they are old enough1 and then 
send them to one of the so-called       

middle-class schools4 ,the lower class1 
on the other hand1 who do not aspire    
very high1 and whose ideas are little   
more ambitious than those of their      
labourers1 are contented with the school
 in the neighbouring village4 ,till     
recently these village schools were very
 poor affairs1 something a little better
 than the old dame school1 but not much4
 ,but since the new ,education ,act the 
lower class of farmers are in a better  
position with respect to education than 
those who possess much higher claims to 
social distinction4 ,where there is not 
a school board1 the clergyman and the   
landowners have combined1 and built     
first-rate schools1 up to all the       
requirements of the ,act1 and attended  
by properly certified teachers4 ,the    
lower class farmer1 who is troubled with
 no scruples about the association of   
his boys with the labourers' children1  
can send them to this school at a very  
low charge indeed1 and they will there  
receive a good foundation4 ,but the     

middle-class farmer--the man who is     
neither an independent gentleman1 nor   
obliged to live on bacon and greens--is 
unprovided for1 and yet this class is   
the most numerous4 ,they have better    
views for their sons than to confine    
those early impressions upon which so   
much depends to the narrow and rude1 if 
not coarse manners of the labourers'    
children4 ,they look higher than that1  
and they are fully justified in doing   
so4 ,they do not1 therefore1 at all     
relish the idea of sending their boys to
 the national school of the parish1 let 
it be never so well supplied with       
teachers4 ,there is another objection to
 it4 ,it has a faint suspicion of the   
pauper4 ,now if there is anything a     
downright ,english yeoman abominates    
more than all the rest it is any        
approach to the parish4 ,this is a      
parish school4 ,it is not a paupers'    
school--that is admitted--but it is a   
parish school1 to which the children of 
men who have often received relief are  

sent4 ,the yeoman's instinct revolts at 
it4 ,attempts have been made to get over
 this niceness of feeling by erecting a 
special class-room for farmers' sons1   
and patriotic baronets have even gone so
 far as to send their own boys so as to 
set the example4 ,but it is in vain4    
,the middle-class farmer is above all   
men exclusive in his ideas4 ,he detests 
the slightest flavour of communism4 ,he 
likes to be completely and fully        
independent4 ,he will not patronise the 
parish school4 ,what then is he to do8  
,at this present moment most farmers'   
sons are sent into the neighbouring     
towns to the middle-class schools which 
are to be found there4 ,if the farmer is
 within two or three miles the boys walk
 or ride on ponies every morning4 ,if it
 is farther than that they go as weekly 
boarders1 and return home every         
,saturday4 ,the fault in this system is 
simply and solely in the character of   
the school4 ,too often it is a school in
 name only1 where the boys learn next to

 nothing at all1 except mischief4 ,very 
few schools exist in these small country
 towns which afford a good education at 
a moderate price4 ,it is almost         
impossible that they should exist       
without an endowment1 as the scholars   
can never be numerous enough to make the
 profits exceed the expenditure4 ,the   
result is that the middle-class farmer  
cannot give his boys a good education   
unless he sends them to what is called a
 middle-class school in some town at a  
great distance1 and this he cannot      
afford4 ,the sum demanded by these      
so-called middle-class schools is beyond
 his reach4 ,he may1 perhaps1 if he has 
only one son1 indulge in the expensive  
luxury of a sound and thorough education
 for him4 ,but if there are several the 
thing is out of the question4 ,with the 
girls it is even worse--where can he    
send them8 ,they cannot very well walk  
or ride to and fro like the boys to the 
school in the nearest town1 and if they 
are boarded at such schools1 the        

education given is paltry and meagre in 
the extreme4 ,a good girls' school is   
one of the rarest things in the country4
 ,the result is that a governess is kept
 while the girls are young4 ,this       
governess is underpaid1 and has         
consequently herself been only partially
 educated4 ,then as the girls grow older
 they are sent for a year or two1 to    
finish them1 to some young ladies'      
academy1 and the ultimate product is a  
smattering of ,french and music1 and    
crude ideas of fashion and refinement1  
which make them dissatisfied with their 
home and unfit for an agricultural life 
as the wife of a farmer4  ,the nonsense 
talked and published of farmers having  
pianos1 and their daughters strumming   
all day long instead of attending to the
 dairy1 is perfectly absurd4 ,it is     
quite true that in hundreds of          
farmhouses1 just at the time when the   
dairy is in full work in the morning1 a 
piano may be heard going4 ,this is the  
governess instructing the girls when the

 farmer is not sufficiently rich to send
 them to a school4 ,but when once these 
girls are grown up1 and have finished   
their education1 poor as it is1 and     
return home to take a part in the       
household duties1 then the piano is     
never heard in the morning when work is 
about4 ,the farmer's wife sees to that  
sharp enough4 ,in the evening it may be 
heard--and why not8 ,if the agricultural
 labourer is to be polished up and      
refined1 why on earth should not his    
employer take a step in advance8 ,it    
must be remembered that there is very   
little society in the country2 scarcely 
any one even passing along the road4    
,there are none of those cheap sights   
and amusements so readily accessible to 
the poorest in a great city4 ,the wives 
and daughters of the mechanics and      
workmen in ,london can once a week at   
least afford to enjoy themselves at some
 theatre or place of amusement4 ,they   
are far better off in this respect than 
the daughters of agriculturists who may 

be worth thousands4 ,these have nothing 
whatever to amuse themselves with during
 the long evenings2 they cannot even    
take a stroll out and look at the shop  
windows4 ,they are surely entitled to   
the simple and inexpensive amusement of 
a piano4 ,it is in fact their only      
resource4 ,there was a statement in the 
newspapers of farmers taking their      
daughters to ,paris4 ,it is possible    
that some of the upper class of farmers1
 who are in fact independent gentlemen1 
may have done so2 but as for the        
ordinary middle-class farmers1 such a   
thing is utterly unheard of4 ,it is very
 few of them who even take their wives  
to ,london or the seaside for a week4   
,but even if they did1 it is nothing    
more than they are entitled to do4 ,half
 the tradesmen who do such things do not
 possess anything like the income of the
 farmers4 ,the fact is1 that the        
agriculturists are a singularly         
stay-at-home race of men4 ,the great    
majority never leave their farms to go  

farther than the market-town from one   
year's end to the other4 ,above all     
classes they are attached to their      
homes1 and slow to go away even         
temporarily4 ,to such a length is this  
feeling carried that men have been known
 to go partially insane for a while at  
the prospect of having to quit a farm   
through a landlord's decease1 even      
though no appreciable pecuniary loss was
 involved4  ,the agriculturists are a   
remarkably observant race1 and as a rule
 peculiarly well-informed4 ,this is     
contrary to the popular belief1 which   
represents the farmer as rude and       
ignorant1 a pot-bellied beer-drinker1   
and nothing more4 ,but the popular      
belief is a delusion4 ,i do not say that
 they are literary or scientific in     
their tastes and private pursuits4      
,there are no great names among them in 
geology1 or astronomy1 or anthropology1 
or any other science4 ,they are not     
artists in any sense4 ,but they are     
singularly well-informed4 ,they possess 

more general knowledge than any other   
class1 and can converse on subjects with
 which townsmen seem unacquainted4 ,many
 of them have very fair libraries1 not  
extensive1 but containing books of      
sterling excellence4 ,farming is        
necessarily an isolated business--there 
is little society4 ,except on           
market-days1 there is scarcely any      
interchange of conversation4 ,there is1 
too1 at certain seasons of the year a   
good deal of leisure4 ,what books they  
own1 therefore1 are well read1 and the  
contents reflected upon4 ,it is that    
habit of thinking over what is read that
 makes all the difference4 ,it is       
impossible to avoid being struck with   
the immense amount of general           
information possessed by some           
agriculturists1 and the wide field over 
which their knowledge ranges4 ,yet with 
all this knowledge and power of         
reflection they still remain attached to
 the old-world system of politics1      
religion1 and social relations4  ,the   

habits of intemperance which were at one
 time a just and standing reproach      
against the agriculturist have almost   
entirely disappeared4 ,a drunken farmer 
is now unknown4 ,they are as fond as    
ever of offering hospitality to a       
friend1 and as ready to take a social   
glass--no total abstainers amongst them2
 but the steady hard-drinking sot has   
passed away4 ,the old dodge of filling  
the bottle with gin instead of water1   
and so pouring out pure spirit1 instead 
of spirit and water1 when the guests    
were partially intoxicated1 in order to 
complete the process1 is no more known4 
,they do not drink more than the        
inhabitants of towns4  ,it is a singular
 fact that with so many streams and     
ponds scattered about the country within
 easy reach1 the farmers do not care for
 fishing4 ,a farmer engaged in fishing  
is a rarity indeed4 ,they are eagerly   
fond of fox-hunting1 coursing1 and      
shooting1 but fishing is a dead letter4 
,a party will sometimes go out and net a

 pond1 but as for fishing proper1 with  
rod and line1 it is almost unknown4     
,every chance of shooting is eagerly    
snatched at4 ,in ,may the young rooks   
are shot1 after which the gun is put    
aside for a while4 ,at the end of ,july 
some of the young rabbits are ready1 and
 are occasionally knocked over4 ,very   
few tenant farmers shoot game even when 
they could do so1 leaving that for some 
neighbouring gentleman with whom they   
are friendly1 and this too without any  
remuneration1 the fact being that winged
 game does little damage4 ,but they wage
 unceasing war on the rabbits1 with dog 
and gun and ferret4 ,all the winter long
 they are hunted in every possible way4 
,this is1 of course1 on farms where the 
tenant has permission to kill the       
rabbits4 ,whist and post and pair are   
the staple indoor amusements4  ,of all  
businesses that of agriculture is       
peculiarly adapted to descend from      
father to son4 ,in point of fact1 farms 
so frequently pass from the father to   

the son as to be looked upon almost as a
 certain inheritance4 ,in agriculture1  
then1 it must be expected that the      
effects of inherited instincts and ideas
 should be very plainly shown4 ,from    
this cause arises the persistent and    
unreasoning ,conservatism of the mass of
 agriculturists4 ,out of a list of one  
hundred farmers1 ,i find that one       
resides upon a farm which has been in   
the occupation of members of the same   
family for three hundred years4 ,he     
possessed a series of documents1        
receipts1 special agreements1 and so on1
 proving that descent beyond all cavil2 
but with the usual want of proper       
appreciation for antiquities1 most of   
these papers have been committed to the 
flames2 still there is no question of   
the fact1 which can still be shown from 
the landlord's family archives4         
,nominally that farm has been in the    
occupation of one family for ten        
generations1 reckoning by the ordinary  
calculation of thirty years to each4    

,but this average is not fairly         
applicable to the agricultural life1    
which is generally long1 and            
occasionally extends into extreme old   
age4 ,there were probably about eight   
successors if the line was unbroken2 if 
not1 there may of course have been      
treble that number4 ,a man may be       
excused some amount of pride when he    
thinks of such a continuance as this in 
one spot1 for it means not only an      
exceptional vitality of race1 but an    
exceptional perseverance in the paths of
 honesty and straightforwardness4 ,but  
with this pride it also engenders a     
stubborn unchangeableness1 a dislike and
 hatred of all things new and           
unfamiliar1 a nervous dread of reform4  
,faithful to the logic of their class1  
such men as these may in resisting      
innovations go to lengths which may     
appear foolish and wrong to others who  
live in a widely different social       
atmosphere4 ,to some extent the bitter  
opposition to change in the position of 

the labourer1 which is thrown in the    
teeth of the tenant farmer1 is the      
outcome of these very centuries of      
steady adherence to all that they       
believed upright and manly4  ,another   
name on my list has been known at one   
spot for fully two hundred years4 ,these
 men attained a position beyond that of 
yeoman1 but they never sank beneath it4 
,the rise of many of the great county   
families really dates from the success  
of some ancestor1 or the collective     
success of a series of ancestors1 in    
agriculture4 ,they perhaps claim some   
knight or nobleman as the founder of the
 race1 although he may have really done 
nothing for the practical advantage of  
the family2 the true founders being     
merely proprietors of land1 dignified as
 ,j4,p4's1 and sometimes sheriffs1      
throwing off branches into the clerical 
and legal professions4 ,the real        
ancestor was the sturdy yeoman who      
accumulated the money to purchase the   
farm he tilled1 and whose successors had

 the good sense to go on adding acre to 
acre till they finally expanded into the
 wide domains of the modern squire4 ,not
 the knight whose effigy in brass paves 
the aisle of the parish church laid the 
corner-stone of the wealth and power of 
to-day1 but the shrewd and close-fisted 
producer and dealer in wool and corn4   
,their true claim to aristocratic       
privileges and importance is the sense  
of centuries of independence4 ,these    
others of whom we have spoken1 the      
yeoman who never aspired beyond the     
yeoman's position1 are as ancient and as
 worshipful--to use an old and disused  
term--as they4 ,i do not instance these 
descents of three and two hundred years 
as extraordinary1 because ,i believe    
that they could be paralleled and even  
extended by inquiry1 but because they   
came under my own observation4 ,there   
are others on the list ranging from one 
hundred and sixty down to sixty and     
eighty years of continued occupation4   
,but not to go into details1 ,i reckon  

on an average that thirty names out of a
 hundred have been the occupiers for    
three generations2 forty for two        
generations2 twenty for one hundred and 
fifty years2 and ten are new comers4    
,but a still more curious and           
instructive fact is the permanence of   
certain names over a wide section of    
country2 so much so that in places it is
 a common saying that one has only to be
 an ,a1 or a ,b1 or a ,t1 to be certain 
of getting a farm4 ,whole parishes seem 
related1 and not very distantly related 
either2 and yet there is not the        
remotest class-feeling or esprit de     
corps4 ,the isolation and independence  
of a farm life are powerful agents in   
preventing anything like cohesion4 ,any 
one who will take the trouble to look   
down the parish register in a strictly  
agricultural district will be forcibly  
struck with the permanence of certain   
names4 ,page after page contains nothing
 but records of the marriages1          
intermarriages1 burials1 baptisms1 and  

so on of two or three generic names4    
,the population appears to have been    
stationary for scores upon scores of    
years4 ,say what you will1 ridicule it  
as you like1 there is a charm clinging  
round that which time has hallowed2 and 
even the man of the hour1 the successful
 speculator1 yields to this4 ,it is his 
most eager desire to become a landed    
proprietor1 and if possible he buys a   
place where he can exercise manorial    
rights4  ,taking these things into      
consideration1 it is only reasonable to 
admit that agriculture is a profession  
in which a man may1 above all others1 be
 excused if he manifests a certain      
amount of irritability at the prospect  
of change4 ,the slow round of uneventful
 years1 the long continuance of manual  
labour1 the perpetual iteration of a few
 ideas1 in time produce in the mind of  
the most powerfully intellectual men a  
species of unconscious creed2 and this  
creed is religiously handed down from   
generation to generation4 ,setting aside

 those who have gone into agriculture as
 a science1 and adapt everything to     
commercial principles--and they are as  
yet not very numerous--the great mass of
 farmers believe nearly the same now as 
they did two centuries ago4 ,looking    
through a farmer's calendar published in
 the first few years of this century1   
and containing a complete resume of the 
system of agriculture practised then1 ,i
 was struck by the remarkable fact that 
in all main features it was the same as 
that in use now4 ,we have heard so much 
of the rapid progress of agriculture1 of
 the important changes introduced1 and  
of the complete revolution which has    
taken place1 that this statement may    
appear incredible4 ,it is nevertheless  
the fact that that book might be put    
with advantage into the hands of any    
young man about to enter upon a farm4   
,with the exception of those operations 
which are now performed by steam1 and   
making an allowance for the altered     
conditions introduced by the abolition  

of the ,corn ,laws1 the instructions    
given there are useful down to this very
 day4 ,here is the knowledge of the     
peculiarities and requirements of stock 
slowly accumulated during ages of       
agriculture1 and at last written down   
and printed for easy reference4 ,however
 much the aspect of politics may change1
 or however much the means of locomotion
 and communication may be facilitated by
 the introduction of steam1 ,nature     
still remains unaltered4 ,the cows and  
sheep retain their instincts and their  
internal economy2 their modes of        
feeding1 times of rest1 and seasons of  
increase1 never vary4 ,the earth too has
 not changed4 ,the corn is sown at the  
same time2 ,nature goes on her way as   
before1 heedless of the railway rattle4 
,so it is that the details of management
 in this book are as useful now as then1
 more than two generations since4 ,it is
 the same with the unwritten faith of   
the men who labour and live among these 
things4 ,go out among them1 and collect 

from the majority their views and       
sentiments1 and in this age of progress 
they will be found to correspond almost 
exactly with those of their forefathers1
 as recorded by history4 ,they know that
 such is the fact themselves2 they know 
too that it would subject them to sharp 
criticism and reproof if they published 
their real opinions4 ,therefore they    
remain silent1 and it is only among     
themselves that these ideas are         
earnestly insisted on4  ,in the earliest
 days of agriculture1 when ,abraham     
drove his flocks and herds to and fro   
under the ,syrian sun1 the father of the
 family was at once the procreator1 the 
law-giver1 the judge1 the leader in     
battle1 the priest1 and the king4 ,he   
was absolute master under ,heaven of all
 things visible around him4 ,the ,pope  
claims to be infallible now1 and to be  
the vicegerent of ,heaven1 but the      
patriarch of old actually possessed     
those powers upon his own domain4 ,his  
sons were under his complete control--he

 could sacrifice them alive to his ,god 
if he chose1 or banish them from their  
native land4 ,his daughters were still  
more completely in his hand1 to be done 
with as he thought fit4 ,his servants1  
his slaves1 were as much his as the     
wooden pole of his tent1 or the very    
sandals he walked in4 ,they were as dust
 before him4 ,there was no coming of age
 in those days2 no escape after the     
twenty-first year4 ,the tie lasted till 
his death4 ,at forty his sons and       
daughters were as much his own as they  
were at ten years old4 ,they tell us    
that this system1 to some extent1 still 
survives in ,china4 ,in all fundamental 
points such is the creed of the         
agricultural race of our own day4       
,circumstances have1 no doubt1 had      
something to do with the production and 
elaboration of such a faith4 ,in no     
other profession do the sons and the    
daughters remain so long1 and so        
naturally1 under the parental roof4 ,the
 growth of half-a-dozen strong sons was 

a matter of self-congratulation1 for    
each as he came to man's estate took the
 place of a labourer1 and so reduced the
 money-expenditure4 ,the daughters      
worked in the dairy1 and did not        
hesitate to milk occasionally1 or1 at   
least1 to labour in the hayfield4 ,they 
spun1 too1 the home-made stuffs in which
 all the family were clothed4 ,a man's  
children were his servants4 ,they could 
not stir a step without his permission4 
,obedience and reverence to the parent  
was the first and greatest of all       
virtues4 ,its influence was to extend   
through life1 and through the whole     
social system4 ,they were to choose the 
wife or the husband approved of at home4
 ,at thirty1 perhaps1 the more fortunate
 of the sons were placed on farms of    
their own nominally1 but still really   
under the father's control4 ,they dared 
not plough or sow except in the way that
 he approved4 ,their expenditure was    
strictly regulated by his orders4 ,this 
lasted till his death1 which might not  

take place for another twenty years4 ,at
 the present moment ,i could point out  
ten or twelve such cases1 where men of  
thirty or forty are in farms1 and to all
 appearance perfectly free and          
independent1 and yet as completely under
 the parental thumb as they were at ten 
years old4 ,why do they not throw off   
the burden8 ,because they have imbibed  
the same creed1 and intend to carry it  
out in their own persons4 ,these men1 if
 they think thus of their own offspring1
 cannot be expected to be more tender   
towards the lower class around them4    
,they did at one time1 and some still   
wish to1 extend the same system to the  
labouring population4 ,as there was in  
those days little or no work for a man  
but upon a farm1 and as the cottages    
were chiefly in the hands of the        
farmers1 there was plenty of opportunity
 for carrying out these ideas4 ,the old 
method of poor relief gave another      
handle4 ,they did not want only to      
indulge in tyranny2 what they did was to

 rule the labouring poor in the same way
 as they did their own children--nothing
 more nor less4 ,these labouring men1   
like his own children1 must do as the   
farmer thought best4 ,they must live    
here or there1 marry so and so1 or      
forfeit favour--in short1 obey the      
parental head4 ,each farmer was king in 
his own domain2 the united farmers of a 
parish were kings of the whole place4   
,they did not use the power             
circumstances gave them harshly2 but    
they paid very little regard to the     
liberty of the subject4 ,to this very   
day something of the same sort goes on4 
,it is wonderful with what eager zeal   
many of the old-style farmers enter into
 the details of a labourer's life1 and  
carefully ascertain his birth1 his      
parentage1 his marriage1 his wife's     
parentage1 and the very minutest        
matters4 ,these facts thus accumulated  
are talked over in the boardroom when an
 applicant comes to the union for       
relief4 ,very often such special        

knowledge possessed by a guardian of the
 antecedents of the applicant is most   
useful and beneficial in enabling the   
,board to extend assistance to a        
deserving man4 ,what ,i wish to show is 
the all-permeating influence of the     
parental system in the mind of the      
typical agriculturist4  ,in religion it 
is1 or lately was1 the same4 ,it was not
 a matter with the farmer of the        
,athanasian creed1 or the doctrine of   
salvation by faith1 or any other        
theological dogma4 ,to him the parish   
church was the centre of the social     
system of the parish4 ,it was the       
keystone of that parental plan of       
government that he believed in4 ,the    
very first doctrine preached from the   
pulpit was that of obedience4 ,honour   
thy father and mother was inculcated    
there every seventh day4 ,his father    
went to church1 he went to church       
himself1 and everybody else ought to go4
 ,it was as much a social gathering as  
the dinner at the market ordinary1 or   

the annual audit dinner of their common 
landlord4 ,the dissenter1 who declined  
to pay church-rates1 was an unsocial    
person4 ,he had left the circle4 ,it was
 not the theology that they cared about1
 it was the social nonconformity4 ,in a 
spiritual sense1 too1 the clergyman was 
the father of the parish1 the shepherd  
of the flock--it was a part of the great
 system4 ,to go a step farther1 in      
political affairs the one leading idea  
still threaded itself through all4 ,the 
proper parliamentary representative--the
 natural law-giver--was the landlord of 
the district4 ,he was born amongst them1
 walked about amongst them1 had been in 
their houses many a time4 ,he knew their
 wants1 their ideas1 their views4 ,his  
own interest was identical with theirs4 
,therefore he was the man4 ,the logic is
 indisputable4 ,what is more1 they acted
 up to it4 ,in agricultural districts it
 is not uncommon even now to find men of
 diametrically opposite political views 
to the candidate at an election voting  

for and supporting him1 simply and      
solely because he is the local man4 ,it 
is natural and right that he should     
represent them4 ,that one word right is 
the key to the whole ethical system of  
the agriculturists4 ,they cherish and   
maintain their belief in right1 and in  
their rights--by which they understand  
much the same thing--even when          
unaccompanied by any gain or advantage4 
,in brief outline1 such is the creed of 
the agriculturists as a body4 ,it is    
neither written nor spoken1 but it is a 
living faith which influences every hour
 of their lives4  ,this faith must ever 
be borne in mind by those who wish to   
understand the movements of the         
agricultural world4 ,without making a   
proper allowance for it1 the farmers    
will be easily misjudged4  ,the         
labouring class are imbued to a great   
extent with the very same ideas4 ,they  
stick to their rights4 ,they will not   
give up an old pathway that their       
fathers used1 not if one twice as       

convenient be offered in lieu of it4    
,they have a right to go that way1 and  
go that way they will4 ,they are        
brutally tyrannical over their children4
 ,i use those words deliberately4 ,he   
who spares the rod spoils the child1 is 
the practical rule of their conduct4    
,they seem to look upon their offspring 
as merely slaves4 ,they are fond of them
 in their way1 no doubt1 but the law of 
implicit obedience is maintained by dint
 of blows and stripes4 ,the children are
 kicked1 punched1 and thrashed          
perpetually4 ,a good ground-ash stick is
 the gospel of the labouring man4 ,they 
carry the same plan into their work4    
,how many carters have been severely    
fined and imprisoned for whipping1 and  
sometimes even maiming1 the boys under  
their commands8 ,and yet the old        
practice still continues1 only a little 
checked by wholesome terror of the law4 
,despite of all the teaching of the     
,radical papers1 all the whispers of the
 ,methodist itinerant preachers1 despite

 the hatred which the ,labourers' ,union
 agents endeavour to sow between the    
labourer and the farmer1 still the great
 mass of labourers at the last          
election1#a wherever they had a vote1   
supported the local candidate--the man  
who represented the soil--and declined  
to do more than listen to the brilliant 
promises held out by the party of       
change4 ,so strong above all things is  
the force of tradition and custom4  ,the
 agriculturists are firmly and earnestly
 wedded to that unwritten creed which   
has grown up among them out of the past4
 ,why1 then1 should they be so hardly   
dealt with1 more than others1 for       
adhering to this faith8 ,argue with     
them1 educate them up to your standard  
if you like--but is it fair1 is it just1
 is it in accordance with that spirit of
 liberalism and tolerance which their   
opponents profess1 to taunt1 abuse1 and 
bully to the full length that words will
 permit8 ,they are not facile at        
expression1 these same men of the soil4 

,the flow of language seems denied to   
them4 ,they are naturally a silent      
race--preferring deeds to speech4 ,they 
live much with inarticulate nature4 ,it 
may be1 after all1 they have learnt some
 useful and abiding lessons from that   
intercourse4 ,the old shepherds on the  
plains of ,chaldea1 under the starry    
skies of the ,east1 watched the motions 
of those shining bodies till they slowly
 built up a religion1 which1 mixed with 
much dross1 nevertheless contained some 
truths which educated men profess to    
this hour4 ,these ,english farmers also 
observe the changes of the seasons1 and 
watch the face of heaven4 ,their deepest
 convictions are not to be lightly set  
aside4 ,there are men amongst them of   
great powers of thought4 ,i remember one
 at this moment whose grand old head    
would have been a study for an artist4  
,a large head he had1 well-balanced1    
broad and high at the forehead1 deep-set
 eyes1 straight nose1 and firm          
chin--every outward sign of the giant   

brain within4 ,but the man was dumb4    
,the thoughts that came to him he could 
communicate roughly to his friends1 but 
the pen failed him4 ,the horny hand     
which results from manual labour is too 
stiff to wield the swiftly-gliding      
quill4 ,but there is another species of 
handwriting which is called ,work--a    
handwriting which will endure when the  
scribblings of the hour are utterly     
forgotten4 ,this writing he laboured at 
earnestly and eagerly1 not for his own  
good either1 for it absorbed his own    
fortune1 no small one1 in the attempt to
 realise his conception of machinery    
which would double the yield of food4   
,it has been done since his time1 other 
men stepping over the bridge of         
experience which he had built4 ,now this
 man1 who1 on the principles of the     
opponents of the agriculturists1 was a  
benefactor to his species1 and a pioneer
 of true progress1 was1 nevertheless1   
one of the firmest1 staunchest1 most    
uncompromising supporters of that creed 

which they are endeavouring to destroy1 
and which may be stated thus3 ,i believe
 in the ,sovereign1 the ,church1 and the
 ,land3 the ,sovereign being the father 
of the people in a temporal sense2 the  
,church in a spiritual sense2 and the   
,land being the only substantial and    
enduring means of subsistence4 ,cotton1 
coal1 and iron cannot be eaten1 but the 
land gives us corn and beef2 therefore1 
the land stands first and foremost1 and 
the agriculturist1 as the tiller of     
land1 possesses an inalienable right    
which it is his duty to maintain1 and in
 so doing he is acting for the good of  
the community4 ,i believe that the son  
and the daughter should obey their      
parents1 and show regard to their wishes
 even when legally independent4 ,also   
that the servant should obey his        
employer4 ,the connection between       
employer and employed does not cease    
with the payment of wages4 ,it is the   
duty of the servant to show             
consideration for the advice of the     

master2 and the master is not free from 
responsibility as to the education and  
the comfort of the man4 ,the master is  
bound by all laws1 human and divine1 to 
pay a fair amount of wages for a day's  
work4 ,if he does not do so he robs the 
workman as much as if he stole the money
 from his pocket4 ,the workman is       
equally bound to do his work properly1  
and in neglecting to do so he robs his  
employer4 ,to demand more wages than has
 been earned is an attempt at robbery4  
,both master and man should respect     
authority1 and abide by its decisions4  
,such is a slight outline of the        
home-life and the faith of the farmer4  
,,footnote3  #a ,feb4 #ahgd4     ,,the  
,,labourer',s ,,daily ,,life4   ,many   
labourers can trace their descent from  
farmers or well-to-do people1 and it is 
not uncommon to find here and there a   
man who believes that he is entitled to 
a large property in ,chancery1 or       
elsewhere1 as the heir4 ,they are very  
fond of talking of these things1 and    

naturally take a pride in feeling       
themselves a little superior in point of
 ancestry to the mass of labourers4     
,how this descent from a farmer to a    
labourer is managed there are at this   
moment living examples going about the  
country4 ,i knew a man who for years    
made it the business of his life to go  
round from farm to farm soliciting      
charity1 and telling a pitiful tale of  
how he had once been a farmer himself4  
,this tale was quite true1 and as no    
class likes to see their order degraded1
 he got a great deal of relief from the 
agriculturists where he was known4 ,he  
was said to have been wild in his youth1
 and now in his old age was become a    
living representative of the farmer     
reduced to a labourer4  ,this reduction 
is1 however1 usually a slow process1 and
 takes two generations to effect--not   
two generations of thirty years each1   
but at least two successors in a farm4  
,perhaps the decline of a farming family
 began in an accession of unwonted      

prosperity4 ,the wheat or the wool went 
up to a high price1 and the farmer      
happened to be fortunate and possessed a
 large quantity of those materials4 ,or 
he had a legacy left him1 or in some way
 or other made money by good fortune    
rather than hard work4 ,this elated his 
heart1 and thinking to rise still higher
 in life1 he took another1 or perhaps   
two more large farms4 ,but to stock     
these required more money than he could 
produce1 and he had to borrow a thousand
 or so4 ,then the difficulty of         
attending to so large an acreage1 much  
of it distant from his home1 made it    
impossible to farm in the best and most 
profitable manner4 ,by degrees the      
interest on the loan ate up all the     
profit on the new farms4 ,then he       
attempted to restore the balance by     
violent high farming4 ,he bought manures
 to an unprecedented extent1 invested in
 costly machinery--anything to produce a
 double crop4 ,all this would have been 
very well if he had had time to wait    

till the grass grew2 but meantime the   
steed starved4 ,he had to relinquish the
 additional farms1 and confine himself  
to the original one with a considerable 
loss both of money and prestige4 ,he had
 no energy to rise again2 he relapsed   
into slow1 dawdling ways1 perpetually   
regretting and dwelling on the past1 yet
 making no effort to retrieve it4  ,this
 is a singular and strongly marked      
characteristic of the agricultural      
class1 taken generally4 ,they work and  
live and have their being in grooves4   
,so long as they can continue in that   
groove1 and go steadily forward1 without
 much thought or trouble beyond that of 
patience and perseverance1 all goes     
well2 but if any sudden jolt should     
throw them out of this rut1 they seem   
incapable of regaining it4 ,they say1 ,i
 have lost my way2 ,i shall never get it
 again4 ,they sit down and regret the   
past1 granting all their errors with the
 greatest candour2 but the efforts they 
make to regain their position are feeble

 in the extreme4  ,so our typical       
unfortunate farmer folds his hands1 and 
in point of fact slumbers away the rest 
of his existence1 content with the      
fireside and a roof over his head1 and a
 jug of beer to drink4 ,he does not know
 ,french1 he has never heard of         
,metternich1 but he puts the famous     
maxim in practice1 and1 satisfied with  
to-day1 says in his heart1 ,apres nous  
le ,deluge4 ,no one disturbs him2 his   
landlord has a certain respect and pity 
for him--respect1 perhaps1 for an old   
family that has tilled his land for a   
century1 but which he now sees is slowly
 but irretrievably passing away4 ,so the
 decayed farmer dozes out his existence4
  ,meantime his sons are coming on1 and 
it too often happens that the brief     
period of sunshine and prosperity has   
done its evil work with them too4 ,they 
have imbibed ideas of gentility and     
desire for excitement utterly foreign to
 the quiet1 peaceful life of an         
agriculturist4 ,they have gambled on the

 turf and become involved4              
,notwithstanding the fall of their      
father from his good position1 they     
still retain the belief that in the end 
they shall find enough money to put all 
to rights2 but when the end comes there 
is a deficiency4 ,among them there is   
perhaps one more plodding than the rest4
 ,he takes the farm1 and keeps a house  
for the younger children4 ,in ten years 
he becomes a bankrupt1 and the family   
are scattered abroad upon the face of   
the earth4 ,the plodding one becomes a  
bailiff1 and lives respectably all his  
life2 but his sons are never educated1  
and he saves no money2 there is nothing 
for them but to go out to work as farm  
labourers4  ,such is something like the 
usual way in which the decline and fall 
of a farming family takes place1 though 
it may of course arise from unforeseen  
circumstances1 quite out of the control 
of the agriculturist4 ,in any case the  
children graduate downwards till they   
become labourers4 ,nowadays many of them

 emigrate1 but in the long time that has
 gone before1 when emigration was not so
 easy1 many hundreds of families have   
thus become reduced to the level of the 
labourers they once employed4 ,so it is 
that many of the labourers of to-day    
bear names which less than two          
generations ago were well known and     
highly respected over a wide tract of   
country4 ,it is natural for them to look
 back with a certain degree of pleasure 
upon that past1 and some may even have  
been incited to attempt a return to the 
old position4  ,but the great majority1 
the mass1 of the agricultural labourers 
have been labourers time out of mind4   
,their fathers were labourers1 their    
grandfathers and their                  
great-grandfathers have all worked upon 
the farms1 and very often almost        
continuously during that long period of 
time upon the farms in one parish4 ,all 
their relations have been1 and still    
are1 labourers1 varied by one here who  
has become a tinker1 or one there who   

keeps a small roadside beerhouse4 ,when 
this is the case1 when a man and all his
 ancestors for generations have been    
hewers of wood and drawers of water1 it 
naturally follows that the present      
representative of the family holds      
strongly to the traditions1 the         
instincts1 acquired during the slow     
process of time4 ,what those instincts  
are will be better gathered from a      
faithful picture of his daily life4     
,most of the agricultural labourers are 
born in a thatched cottage by the       
roadside1 or in some narrow lane4 ,this 
cottage is usually an encroachment4 ,in 
the olden time1 when land was cheap1 and
 the competition for it dull1 there were
 many strips and scraps which were never
 taken any notice of1 and of which at   
this hour no record exists either in the
 parochial papers or the ,imperial      
archives4 ,probably this arose from the 
character of the country in the past1   
when the greater part was open1 or1 as  
it was called1 champaign land1 without  

hedge1 or ditch1 or landmark4 ,near     
towns a certain portion was enclosed    
generally by the great landowners1 or   
for the use of the tradesmen4 ,there was
 also a large enclosure called the      
common land1 on which all burgesses or  
citizens had a right to feed so many    
cattle1 sheep1 or horses4 ,as a rule the
 common land was not enclosed by hedges 
in fields1 though instances do occur in 
which it was4 ,there were very few towns
 in the reign of ,charles ,,ii4 that had
 not got their commons attached to them2
 but outside and beyond these patches of
 cultivation round the towns the country
 was open1 unenclosed1 and the          
boundaries ill-defined4 ,the king's     
highway ran from one point to another1  
but its course was very wide4 ,roads    
were not then macadamised and strictly  
confined to one line4 ,the want of      
metalling1 and the consequent fearful   
ruts and sloughs1 drove vehicles and    
travellers further and further from what
 was the original line1 till they formed

 a track perhaps a score or two of yards
 wide4 ,when fields became more         
generally enclosed it was still only in 
patches1 and these strips and spaces of 
green sward were left utterly uncared   
for and unnoticed4 ,these were encamped 
upon by the gipsies and travelling folk1
 and their unmolested occupation no     
doubt suggested to the agricultural     
labourer that he might raise a cottage  
upon such places1 or cultivate it for   
his garden4  ,i know of one spot at this
 present moment which was enclosed by an
 agricultural labourer fully sixty years
 ago4 ,it is an oval piece of ground of 
considerable size1 situated almost      
exactly in the centre of a very valuable
 estate4 ,he and his descendants        
continued to crop this garden of theirs 
entirely unmolested for the whole of    
that time1 paying no rent whatever4 ,it 
soon1 however1 became necessary to      
enlarge the size of the fields1 which   
were small1 in order to meet the        
requirements of the modern style of     

agriculture4 ,this oval piece was       
surrounded by hedges of enormous growth1
 and the cultivator was requested to    
remove to another piece more out of the 
way4 ,he refused to do so1 and when the 
proprietors of the surrounding estate   
came to inquire into the circumstances  
they found that they could do nothing4  
,he had enjoyed undisturbed possession  
for sixty years2 he had paid no rent--no
 quit rent or manor dues of any kind4   
,but still further1 when they came to   
examine the maps and old documents1 no  
mention whatever appeared of this       
particular patch of ground4 ,it was     
utterly unnoticed2 it was not recorded  
as any man's property4 ,the labourer    
therefore retained possession4 ,this was
 an extraordinary case1 because the     
encroachment took place in the middle of
 a cultivated estate1 where one would   
have thought the tenants would have seen
 to it4  ,commonly the squatters pitched
 on a piece of land--a long unused      
strip--running parallel to the highway  

or lane4 ,this was no one's property2 it
 was the property of the nation1 which  
had no immediate representative to look 
after its interests4 ,the surrounding   
farmers did not care to interfere2 it   
was no business of theirs4 ,the highway 
board1 unless the instance was very     
glaring1 and some actual obstruction of 
the road was caused1 winked at the      
trespass4 ,most of them were farmers1   
and did not wish to interfere with a    
poor man1 who they knew had no other way
 of getting a house of his own4         
,by-and-by1 when the cottage was built1 
the labourer was summoned to the        
court-leet of the manor1 and was        
assessed in quit rent1 a mere nominal   
sum1 perhaps fourpence or a shilling a  
year4 ,he had no objection to this1     
because it gave him a title4 ,as long as
 the quit rent was duly paid1 and he    
could produce the receipt1 he was safe  
in the occupation of his cottage1 and no
 one could turn him out4 ,to be assessed
 by the court-leet in fact established  

his title4 ,some of these court-leets or
 manor courts are only held at intervals
 of three years1 or even more1 and are  
generally composed of farmers1 presided 
over by the legal agent of the lord of  
the manor4 ,the tenants of the manor    
attend to pay their quit rent for the   
preceding years1 and it often happens   
that if the cottager has been ill1 or is
 weak and infirm1 the farmers composing 
the court subscribe and pay the quit    
rent for him4  ,the first step when a   
labourer intends to become a squatter is
 to enclose the strip of land which he  
has chosen4 ,this he does by raising a  
low bank of earth round it1 on which he 
plants elder bushes1 as that shrub grows
 quickest1 and in the course of two     
seasons will form a respectable fence4  
,then he makes a small sparred gate     
which he can fasten with a padlock1 and 
the garden is complete4 ,to build the   
cottage is quite another matter4 ,that  
is an affair of the greatest importance1
 requiring some months of thought and   

preparation4 ,the first thing is to get 
the materials4 ,if it is a clay country1
 of course bricks must be chosen2 but in
 stone countries there are often        
quarries on the farm on which he works4 
,his employer will let him have a       
considerable quantity of stone for      
nothing1 and the rest at a nominal      
charge1 and will lend him a horse and   
cart at a leisure season2 so that in a  
very short time he can transport enough 
stone for his purpose4 ,if he has no    
such friend1 there is almost sure to be 
in every parish a labouring man who     
keeps a wretched horse or two1 fed on   
the grass by the roadside1 and gains his
 living by hauling4 ,our architect      
engages this man at a low price to haul 
his materials for him4 ,the lime to make
 mortar he must buy4 ,in the parish     
there is nearly sure to be at least one 
native mason1 who works for the farmers1
 putting up pig-styes1 mending walls1   
and doing small jobs of that kind4 ,this
 is the builder who engages to come on  

,saturday afternoons or in the evenings1
 while the would-be householder himself 
is the hod-bearer and mixes the mortar4 
,nine times out of ten the site for the 
cottage is chosen so as to have a ditch 
at the back4 ,this ditch acts at once as
 the cesspool and the sewer1 and1 unless
 it happens to have a good fall1        
speedily becomes a nuisance to the      
neighbourhood4 ,a certain quantity of   
wood is of course required in building  
even this humble edifice4 ,this is      
either given by the farmers or is       
purchased at a nominal rate4  ,the      
ground plan is extremely simple4 ,it    
consists of two rooms1 oblong1 and      
generally of the same size--one to live 
in1 the other to sleep in--for the great
 majority of the squatters' hovels have 
no upstair rooms4 ,at one end there is a
 small shed for odds and ends4 ,this    
shed used to be built with an oven1 but 
now scarcely any labourers bake their   
own bread1 but buy of the baker4 ,the   
walls of the cottage having been carried

 up some six feet1 or six feet six--just
 a little higher than a man's head--the 
next process is to construct the roof1  
which is a very simple process4 ,the    
roof is then thatched1 sometimes with   
flags cut from the brooks1 but more     
usually with straw1 and practically the 
cottage is now built1 for there are no  
indoor fittings to speak of4 ,the       
chimney is placed at the end of the room
 set apart for day use4 ,there is no    
ceiling1 nothing between the floor and  
the thatch and rafters1 except perhaps  
at one end1 where there is a kind of    
loft4 ,the floor consists simply of the 
earth itself rammed down hard1 or       
sometimes of rough pitching-stones1 with
 large interstices between them4 ,the   
furniture of this room is of the        
simplest description4 ,a few chairs1 a  
deal table1 three or four shelves1 and a
 cupboard1 with a box or two in the     
corners1 constitute the whole4 ,the     
domestic utensils are equally few1 and  
strictly utilitarian4 ,a great pot1 a   

kettle1 a saucepan1 a few plates1 dishes
 and knives1 half-a-dozen spoons1 and   
that is about all4 ,but on the          
mantelpiece there is nearly sure to be a
 few ornaments in crockery1 bought from 
some itinerant trader4 ,the walls are   
whitewashed4 ,the bedroom is plainly and
 rudely furnished4 ,some cottages do not
 even attain to this degree of comfort4 
,they consist of four posts set in the  
ground which support the cross-beam and 
the roof1 and the walls are made of     
wattle and daub1 i4e41 of small split   
willow sticks1 put upright and daubed   
over with coarse plaster4 ,the roofs of 
these cottages are often half hidden    
with rank grass1 moss1 and sillgreen1 a 
vegetation perhaps encouraged by the    
drippings from a tree overhanging the   
roof2 and the situation of the cottage  
is itself in many cases low and damp4   
,but there is a class of squatters1 who 
possess habitations more fit for human  
beings4 ,these were originally built by 
men who had saved a little money1 had   

showed1 perhaps1 a certain talent for   
hedge carpentering or thatching1 become 
tinkers1 or even blacksmiths4 ,in such  
capacities a man may save a little      
money--not much1 perhaps ,l#cj or ,l#dj 
at furthest4 ,with the aid of this he   
manages to build a very tidy cottage1 in
 the face of the statement made by      
architects and builders that a good     
cottage cannot be erected under ,l#abj4 
,their dwellings do not1 indeed1 compete
 with the neat1 prim1 and business-like 
work of the professional builder2 but   
still they are roomy and substantial    
cottages4 ,the secret of cheapness lies 
in the fact that they work themselves at
 the erection1 and do not entrust some  
one else with a contract4 ,moreover1    
they make shifts and put up with        
drawbacks as no business-man could      
possibly do4 ,the materials they        
purchase are cheap and of second-class  
condition1 but good enough to hold      
together and to last some time4 ,their  
rude beams and rafters would not satisfy

 the eye of a landed proprietor1 but    
they hold up the roof-tree equally well4
 ,every pound they spend goes its full  
length1 and not a penny is wasted4      
,after a while a substantial-looking    
cottage rises up1 whitewashed and       
thatched4 ,it has an upper storey with  
two rooms1 and two1 at least1           
downstairs1 with the inevitable lean-to 
or shed1 without which no labourer's    
cottage is complete4 ,this is more like 
a house1 the residence of a man1 than   
that of the poorer squatter4 ,the floor 
is composed of flag-stones1 in this case
 always carefully washed and holystoned4
 ,there are the same chairs and deal    
table as in the poorer cottage1 but     
there are many more domestic utensils1  
and the chimney-piece is ornamented with
 more crockery figures4 ,a few coarse   
prints hang against the walls4 ,some of 
these old prints are great curiosities  
in their way--hardly valuable enough for
 a collection1 but very amusing4 ,a     
favourite set of prints is the ride of  

,dick ,turpin to ,york on ,black ,bess1 
representing every scene in that famous 
gallop4 ,the upstair rooms are better   
furnished1 and the beds often really    
good4  ,some of these cottages in       
summer-time really approach something of
 that ,arcadian beauty which is supposed
 to prevail in the country4 ,everything1
 of course1 depends upon the character  
of the inmates4 ,the dull tint of the   
thatch is relieved here and there by    
great patches of sillgreen1 which is    
religiously preserved as a good herb1   
though the exact ailments for which it  
is good are often forgotten4 ,one end of
 the cottage is often completely hidden 
with ivy1 and woodbine grows in thickest
 profusion over the porch4 ,near the    
door there are almost always a few      
cabbage-rose trees1 and under the       
windows grow wall-flowers and           
hollyhocks1 sweet peas1 columbine1 and  
sometimes the graceful lilies of the    
valley4 ,the garden stretches in a long 
strip from the door1 one mass of green4 

,it is enclosed by thick hedges1 over   
which the dog-rose grows1 and the wild  
convolvulus will blossom in the autumn4 
,trees fill up every available space and
 corner--apple trees1 pear trees1       
damsons1 plums1 bullaces--all varieties4
 ,the cottagers seem to like to have at 
least one tree of every sort4 ,these    
trees look very nice in the spring when 
the apple blossom is out1 and again in  
the autumn when the fruit is ripe4      
,under the trees are gooseberry bushes1 
raspberries1 and numbers of currants4   
,the patches are divided into strips    
producing potatoes1 cabbage1 lettuce1   
onions1 radishes1 parsnips2 in this     
kitchen produce1 as with the fruit1 they
 like to possess a few of all kinds4    
,there is generally a great bunch of    
rhubarb4 ,in odd corners there are sure 
to be a few specimens of southernwood1  
mugwort1 and other herbs2 not for use1  
but from adherence to the old customs4  
,the old people thought much of these   
yherbs1 so they must have some too1 as  

well as a little mint and similar       
potherbs4 ,in the windows you may see   
two or three geraniums1 and over the    
porch a wicker cage1 in which the ousel 
cock1 with orange-tawny bill1 pours out 
his rich melodious notes4 ,there is     
hardly a cottage without its captive    
bird1 or tame rabbit1 or mongrel cur1   
which seems as much attached to his     
master as more high-bred dogs to their  
owners4  ,these better cottages are     
extremely pleasing to look upon4 ,there 
is an old ,english1 homely look about   
them4 ,i know a man now whose cottage is
 ornamented much in the way ,i have     
described1 a man of sixty1 who can      
neither read nor write1 and is rude and 
uncouth in speech1 yet everything about 
him seems pleasant and happy4 ,to my eye
 the thatch and gables1 and picturesque 
irregularity of this class of cottages1 
are more pleasing than the modern       
glaring red brick and prim slate of     
dwellings built to order1 where         
everything is cut with a precise        

uniformity4 ,if a man can be encouraged 
to build his own house1 depend upon it  
it is better for him and his neighbours 
than that he should live in one which is
 not his own4 ,the sense of ownership   
engenders a pride in the place1 and all 
his better feelings are called into     
play4 ,some of these cottagers1 living  
in such houses as these1 are the very   
best labourers to be had4 ,they stay on 
one farm a lifetime1 and never leave    
it--an invaluable aid to a farmer4 ,they
 frequently possess some little special 
knowledge of carpentering or            
blacksmith's work1 which renders them   
extremely useful1 and at the same time  
increases their earnings4 ,these men are
 the real true peasantry1 quiet and     
peaceful1 yet strong and courageous4    
,these are the class that should be     
encouraged by every possible means2 a   
man who keeps his little habitation in  
the state ,i have described1 who        
ornaments it within1 and fills his      
garden with fruit and flowers1 though he

 may be totally unable to read or to    
speak correctly1 is nevertheless a good 
and useful citizen1 and an addition to  
the stability of the ,state4  ,though   
these cottages are worth the smallest   
sums comparatively1 it is interesting to
 note with what pride and satisfaction  
the possessors contemplate leaving them 
to their children4 ,of course this very 
feeling1 where there are quarrelsome    
relations1 often leads to bickerings and
 strife4 ,it is astonishing with what   
tenacity a man who thinks he has a claim
 to a part of such a small estate will  
cling to his cause1 and will not        
hesitate to spend to maintain his claim 
all his little earnings on the          
third-class lawyers whom the            
agricultural poor mostly patronise4     
,even after every shadow of legal chance
 is gone1 he still loudly declares his  
right2 and there is more squabbling     
about the inheritance of these places   
than over the succession to great       
domains4  ,another class of labourers'  

cottages is found chiefly in the        
villages4 ,these were not originally    
erected for the purpose to which they   
are now applied2 they were farmhouses in
 the days when small farms were the     
rule1 or they were built for tradesmen  
who have long since departed4 ,these    
buildings are divided into two1 three1  
or more habitations1 each with its      
family2 and many makeshifts have to be  
resorted to to render them decent and   
comfortable4 ,this class of cottage is  
to be avoided if possible1 because the  
close and forced intercourse which must 
take place between the families         
generally leads to quarrels4 ,perhaps   
there is one pump for the entire        
building1 and one wants to use it just  
at the moment that another requires     
water2 or there is only one gateway to  
the court1 and the passage is obstructed
 by the wheelbarrow of the other party4 
,it is from these places that the       
greater part of the malcontents go up to
 the magistrates in petty sessions4 ,it 

is rare1 indeed1 that the cottager      
living more or less isolated by the side
 of the road appears in a court of law4 
,of course1 in these villages there are 
cottages which have been built expressly
 for the use of labouring men1 and      
these1 like those in the open country1  
may be divided into three classes--the  
hovel1 the cottage proper1 and the model
 modern cottage4  ,in the villages there
 is almost sure to be one or more       
cottages which carries one's idea of    
,lilliputian dwellings to the extreme4  
,these are generally sheds or outhouses 
which have been converted into cottages4
 ,i entered one not long since which    
consisted of two rooms1 one above and   
one below1 and each of these rooms could
 not have measured1 at a guess1 more    
than six feet six across4 ,i had heard  
of this place1 and expected to find it a
 perfect den of misery and wretchedness4
 ,no such thing4 ,to my surprise the    
woman who opened the door was neatly    
clad1 clean1 and bright4 ,the floor of  

the cottage was of ordinary flag-stones1
 but there was a ceiling whitewashed and
 clean4 ,a good fire was burning in the 
grate--it was the middle of winter--and 
the room felt warm and comfortable4 ,the
 walls were completely covered with     
engravings from the ,illustrated ,london
 ,news4 ,the furniture was equal to the 
furniture of the best cottages1 and     
everything was extremely clean4 ,the    
woman said they were quite comfortable2 
and although they could have had a      
larger cottage many times since1 they   
never wished to change1 as they had no  
children4 ,that of course made a great  
difference4 ,i never should have thought
 it possible for two human beings to    
have existed1 much less been            
comfortable1 in such a diminutive place4
 ,another cottage ,i know contains but  
one room altogether1 which is about     
eight feet square2 it is inhabited by a 
solitary old woman1 and looks like a    
toy-house4 ,one or two such places as   
these may be found in most villages1 but

 it does not by any means follow that   
because they are small the inhabitants  
are badly off4 ,the condition they are  
found in depends entirely upon the      
disposition of the inmates4 ,if they are
 slatternly and dirty1 the largest      
cottages would not improve them4  ,in   
some rural villages a great many        
cottages may be observed sadly out of   
repair--the thatch coming off and in    
holes1 the windows broken1 and other    
signs of dilapidation4 ,this is usually 
set down to the landlord's fault1 but if
 the circumstances are inquired into1 it
 will often be found that the fault lies
 with the inmates themselves4 ,these    
cottages are let to labourers at a      
merely nominal rent1 and with them a    
large piece of allotment ground4 ,but   
although they thus get a house and      
garden almost free1 they refuse to do   
the slightest or simplest repairs4 ,if  
the window gets broken--,oh1 let it     
stop2 the landlord can do that4 ,if a   
piece of thatch comes off--,oh1 'tisn't 

my house2 let the landlord do it up4 ,so
 it goes on till the cottage is ready to
 tumble to pieces4 ,what is the landlord
 to do8 ,in his heart he would like to  
raze the whole village to the ground and
 rebuild it afresh4 ,but there are not  
many who can afford such an expense4    
,then1 if it were done1 the old women   
and old men1 and infirm persons who find
 a home in these places1 would be driven
 forth4 ,if the landlord puts up two    
hundred new cottages1 he finds it       
absolutely necessary to get some kind of
 return for the capital invested4 ,he   
does not want more than two and a half  
per cent42 but to ask that means a rise 
of perhaps a shilling a week4 ,that is  
enough2 the labourer seeks another      
tumbledown place where he can live for  
tenpence a week1 and the poor and infirm
 have to go to the workhouse4 ,so1      
rather than be annoyed with the endless 
complaints and troubles1 to say nothing 
of the inevitable loss of money1 the    
landlord allows things to go on as they 

are4  ,among our ,english cottages in   
out-of-the-way places may be found      
curious materials for the study of      
character in humble life4 ,in one       
cottage you may find an upright1        
stern-featured man1 a great student of  
the ,bible1 and fond of using its       
language whenever opportunity offers1   
who is the representative of the old    
,puritan1 though the denomination to    
which he may belong is technically known
 as the ,methodist4 ,he is stern1 hard1 
uncompromising--one who sets duty above 
affection4 ,his children are not spoiled
 because the rod is spared4 ,he stands  
aloof from his fellows1 and is never    
seen at the cottage alehouse1 or        
lingering in groups at the cross-roads4 
,he is certain to be at the anniversary1
 i4e41 the commemoration of the         
foundation of the ,methodist chapel of  
the parish4 ,the very next cottage may  
contain the antithesis of this man4     
,this is a genius in his way4 ,he has   
some idea of art1 as you may gather from

 the fanciful patches into which his    
garden is divided4 ,he has a            
considerable talent for construction1   
and though he has never been an         
apprentice he can do something towards  
mending a cart or a door4 ,he makes     
stands with wires to put flowers in for 
the farmers' parlours1 and strings the  
dry oak-apples on wire1 which he twists 
into baskets1 to hold knicknackeries4   
,he is witty1 and has his jest for      
everybody4 ,he can do something of      
everything--turn his hand any way--a    
perfect treasure on the farm4 ,in the   
old days there was another character in 
most villages2 this was the rhymer4 ,he 
was commonly the fiddler too1 and sang  
his own verses to tunes played by       
himself4 ,since the printing-press has  
come in1 and flooded the country with   
cheap literature1 this character has    
disappeared1 though many of the verses  
these men made still linger in the      
countryside4  ,the ordinary adult farm  
labourer commonly rises at from four to 

five o'clock2 if he is a milker1 and has
 to walk some little distance to his    
work1 even as early as half-past three4 
,four was the general rule1 but of late 
years the hour has grown later4 ,he     
milks till five or half-past1 carries   
the yokes to the dairy1 and draws water 
for the dairymaid1 or perhaps chops up  
some wood for her fire to scald the     
milk4 ,at six he goes to breakfast1     
which consists of a hunch of bread and  
cheese as the rule1 with now and then a 
piece of bacon1 and as a milker he      
receives his quart of beer4 ,at         
breakfast there is no hurry for         
half-an-hour or so2 but some time before
 seven he is on at the ordinary work of 
the day4 ,if a milker and very early    
riser1 he is not usually put at the     
heavy jobs1 but allowances are made for 
the work he has already done4 ,the other
 men on the farm arrive at six4 ,at     
eleven1 or half-past1 comes luncheon1   
which lasts a full hour1 often an hour  
and a quarter4 ,about three o'clock the 

task of milking again commences2 the    
buckets are got out with a good deal of 
rattling and noise1 the yokes fitted to 
the shoulders1 and away he goes for an  
hour or hour and a half of milking4     
,that done1 he has to clean up the court
 and help the dairymaid put the heavier 
articles in place2 then another quart of
 beer1 and away home4 ,the time of      
leaving off work varies from half-past  
five to half-past six4 ,at ordinary     
seasons the other men leave at six1 but 
in haymaking or harvest time they are   
expected to remain till the job in hand 
that day is finished1 often till eight  
or half-past4 ,this is compensated for  
by a hearty supper and almost unlimited 
beer4 ,the women employed in field      
labour generally leave at four1 and     
hasten home to prepare the evening meal4
 ,the evening meal is the great event of
 the day4 ,like the independent         
gentleman in this one thing1 the        
labourer dines late in the day4 ,his    
midday meal1 which is the farmer's      

dinner1 is his luncheon4 ,the labourer's
 dinner is taken at half-past six to    
seven in the evening1 after he has got  
home1 unlaced his heavy and cumbrous    
boots1 combed his hair1 and washed      
himself4 ,his table is always well      
supplied with vegetables1 potatoes1 and 
particularly greens1 of which he is     
peculiarly fond4 ,the staple dish is1 of
 course1 a piece of bacon1 and large    
quantities of bread are eaten4 ,it is a 
common thing now1 once or twice in the  
week1 for a labourer to have a small    
joint of mutton1 not a prime joint1 of  
course1 but still good and wholesome    
meat4 ,many of them live in a style1 so 
far as eating and drinking is concerned1
 quite equal to the small farmers1 and  
far superior to what these small farmers
 were used to4 ,instead of beer1 the    
agricultural labourer frequently drinks 
tea with his dinner--weak tea in large  
quantities4 ,after the more solid parts 
comes a salad of onions or lettuce4     
,these men eat quantities which would   

half kill many townspeople4 ,after      
dinner1 if it is the season of the year1
 they go out to the allotment and do a  
little work for themselves1 and then1   
unless the alehouse offers irresistible 
attractions1 to bed4 ,the genuine       
agricultural labourer goes early to bed4
 ,it is necessary for him1 after the    
long toil of the day1 on account of the 
hour at which he has to rise in the     
morning4  ,men employed on arable farms1
 as carters1 for instance1 have to rise 
even earlier than dairymen4 ,they often 
begin to bait their horses at half-past 
three1 or rather they used to4 ,this    
operation of baiting is a most serious  
and important one to the carter4 ,on it 
depends the appearance of his team--with
 him a matter of honest and laudable    
ambition4 ,if he wishes his horses to   
look fat and well1 with smooth shiny    
coats1 he must take the greatest care   
with their food1 not to give them too   
much or too little1 and to vary it      
properly4 ,he must begin feeding a long 

time before his horses start to plough4 
,it is1 therefore1 an object with him to
 get to rest early4 ,in the winter time 
especially the labouring poor go to bed 
very soon1 to save the expense of       
candles4  ,by the bye1 the cottagers    
have a curious habit1 which deserves to 
be recorded even for its singularity4   
,when the good woman of the cottage goes
 out for half-an-hour to fetch a pail of
 water1 or to gossip with a neighbour1  
she always leaves the door-key in the   
keyhole outside4 ,the house is1 in fact1
 at the mercy of any one who chooses to 
turn the key and enter4 ,this practice  
of locking the door and leaving the key 
in it is very prevalent4 ,the presence  
of the key is to intimate that the      
inmate has gone out1 but will shortly   
return2 and it is so understood by the  
neighbours4 ,if a cottager goes out for 
the day1 he or she locks the door1 and  
takes the key with them2 but if the key 
is left in the door1 it is a sign that  
the cottager will be back in ten minutes

 or so4  ,the alehouse is the terrible  
bane of the labourer4 ,if he can keep   
clear of that1 he is clean1 tidy1 and   
respectable2 but if he once falls into  
drinking habits1 good-bye to all hopes  
of his rising in his occupation4 ,where 
he is born there will he remain1 and his
 children after him4  ,some of the      
cottagers who show a little talent for  
music combine under the leadership of   
the parish clerk and the patronage of   
the clergyman1 and form a small brass   
band which parades the village at the   
head of the ,oddfellows or other benefit
 club once a year4 ,in the early summer1
 before the earnest work of harvest     
begins1 and while the evenings begin to 
grow long1 it is not unusual to see a   
number of the younger men at play at    
cricket in the meadow with the more     
active of the farmers4 ,most populous   
villages have their cricket club1 which 
even the richest farmers do not disdain 
to join1 and their sons stand at the    
wicket4  ,the summer is the labourer's  

good season4 ,then he can make money and
 enjoy himself4 ,in the summer three or 
four men will often join together and   
leave their native parish for a ramble4 
,they walk off perhaps some forty or    
fifty miles1 take a job of mowing or    
harvesting1 and after a change of       
scenery and associates1 return in the   
later part of the autumn1 full of the   
things they have seen1 and eager to     
relate them to the groups at the        
cross-roads or the alehouse4 ,the winter
 is under the best circumstances a hard 
time for the labourer4 ,it is not       
altogether that coals are dear and      
firewood growing scarcer year by year1  
but every condition of his daily life   
has a harshness about it4 ,in the summer
 the warm sunshine cast a glamour over  
the rude walls1 the decaying thatch1 and
 the ivy-covered window4 ,the blue smoke
 rose up curling beside the tall        
elm-tree4 ,the hedge parting his garden 
from the road was green and thick1 the  
garden itself full of trees1 and flowers

 of more or less beauty4 ,mud floors are
 not so bad in the summer2 holes in the 
thatch do not matter so much2 an        
ill-fitting window-sash gives no        
concern4 ,but with the cold blasts and  
ceaseless rain of winter all this is    
changed4 ,the hedge next the road is    
usually only elder1 and this1 once the  
leaves are off1 is the thinnest1 most   
miserable of shelters4 ,the rain comes  
through the hole in the thatch 7we are  
speaking of the large class of poor     
cottages71 the mud floor is damp1 and   
perhaps sticky4 ,if the floor is of     
uneven stones1 these grow damp and      
slimy4 ,the cold wind comes through the 
ill-fitting sash1 and drives with       
terrible force under the door4 ,very    
often the floor is one step lower than  
the ground outside1 and consequently    
there is a constant tendency in rainy   
weather for the water to run or soak in4
 ,the elm-tree overhead1 that appeared  
so picturesque in summer1 is now a      
curse1 for the great drops fall         

perpetually from it upon the thatch and 
on the pathway in front of the door4 ,in
 great storms of wind it sways to and   
fro1 causing no little alarm1 and boughs
 are sometimes blown off it1 and fall   
upon the roof-tree4 ,the thatch of the  
cottage is saturated2 the plants and    
grasses that almost always grow on it1  
and the moss1 are vividly1 rankly green2
 till all dripping1 soaked1 overgrown   
with weeds1 the wretched place looks not
 unlike a dunghill4 ,inside1 the draught
 is only one degree better than the     
smoke4 ,these low chimneys1 overshadowed
 with trees1 smoke incessantly1 and fill
 the room with smother4 ,to avoid the   
draught1 many of the cottages are fitted
 with wooden screens1 which divide the  
room1 small enough before1 into two     
parts1 the outer of which1 towards the  
door1 is a howling wilderness of draught
 and wet from under the door2 and the   
inner part close1 stuffy1 and dim with  
smoke driven down the chimney by the    
shifting wind4 ,here the family are all 

huddled up together close over the      
embers4 ,here the cooking is done1 such 
as it is4 ,here they sit in the dark1 or
 in such light as is supplied by the    
carefully hoarded stock of fuel1 till it
 is time to go to bed1 and that is      
generally early enough4 ,so rigid is the
 economy practised in many of these     
cottages that a candle is rarely if ever
 used4 ,the light of the fire suffices1 
and they find their beds in the dark4   
,even when a labourer has risen in the  
scale1 and has some small property1 the 
enforced habits of early life cling to  
him2 and ,i have frequently found men   
who were really worth some little money 
sitting at eight o'clock on a dark      
winter's night without a candle or lamp1
 their feet close to a few dying embers4
 ,the older people especially go to bed 
early4 ,going to some cottages once for 
a parish paper that had been circulated 
for signature1 ,i rapped at the closed  
door4 ,this was at half-past seven one  
evening in ,november4 ,again and again  

,i hammered at the door2 at last an old 
woman put her head out of window1 and   
the following colloquy ensued3--  ,what 
do 'ee want8  ,the paper2 have you      
signed it8  ,lor1 ,i doan't know4 ,he's 
on the table--a bin ther ever since a   
come4 ,thee's can lift th' latch an'    
take 'un4 ,we bin gone to bed this two  
hours4  ,they must have gone upstairs at
 half-past five4 ,to rise at five of a  
summer's morning1 and see the azure of  
the sky and the glorious sun1 may be1   
perhaps1 no great hardship1 although    
there are few persons who could long    
remain poetical on bread and cheese4    
,but to rise at five on a dark winter's 
morning is a very different affair4 ,to 
put on coarse nailed boots1 weighing    
fully seven pounds1 gaiters up above the
 knee1 a short greatcoat of some heavy  
material1 and to step out into the      
driving rain and trudge wearily over    
field after field of wet grass1 with the
 furrows full of water2 then to sit on a
 three-legged stool1 with mud and manure

 half-way up the ankles1 and milk cows  
with one's head leaning against their   
damp1 smoking hides for two hours1 with 
the rain coming steadily drip1 drip1    
drip--this is a very different affair4  
,the fogger on a snowy morning in the   
winter has to encounter about the most  
unpleasant circumstances imaginable4    
,icicles hang from the eaves of the     
rick1 and its thatch is covered with    
snow4 ,up the slippery ladder in the    
dark morning1 one knee out upon the     
snow-covered thatch1 he plunges the     
broad hay-knife in and cuts away an     
enormous truss--then a great prong is   
stuck into this1 a prong made on        
purpose1 with extra thick and powerful  
handle1 and the truss1 well bound round 
with a horse-hair rope1 is hoisted on   
the head and shoulders4 ,this heavy     
weight the fogger has to carry perhaps  
half-a-mile through the snow2 the       
furrows in the field are frozen over1   
but his weight crashes through the ice1 
slush into the chilly water4 ,rain1     

snow1 or bitter frost1 or still more    
bitter east winds--harsh winds1 as he   
most truly calls them--the fogger must  
take no heed of either1 for the cows    
must be fed4  ,a quart of threepenny ale
 for breakfast1 with a hunch of bread   
and cheese1 then out to work again in   
the weather1 let it be what it may4 ,the
 cowyards have to be cleaned out--if not
 done before breakfast--the manure      
thrown up into heaps1 and the heaps     
wheeled outside4 ,or1 perhaps1 the      
master has given him a job of piece-work
 to fill up the middle of the day       
with--a hedge to cut and ditch4 ,this   
means more slush1 wet1 cold1 and        
discomfort4 ,about six or half-past he  
reaches home1 thoroughly saturated1     
worn-out1 cross1 and dummel4 ,i don't   
know how to spell that word1 nor what   
its etymology may be1 but it well       
expresses the dumb1 sullen churlishness 
which such a life as this engenders4    
,for all the conditions and             
circumstances of such a life tend to one

 end only--the blunting of all the finer
 feelings1 the total erasure of         
sensitiveness4 ,the coarse1 half-cooked 
cabbage1 the small bit of fat and rafty 
bacon1 the dry bread and pint of weak   
tea1 makes no very hearty supper after  
such a day as this4 ,the man grows      
insensible to the weather1 so cold and  
damp2 his bodily frame becomes crusted  
over1 case-hardened2 and with this      
indifference there rises up at the same 
time a corresponding dulness as regards 
all moral and social matters4           
,generally the best conditions of       
cottage life are to be found wherever   
there are1 say1 three or four great1    
tall1 strong1 unmarried sons lodging in 
the house with their aged parents4 ,each
 of these pays a small sum weekly for   
his lodging1 and often an additional sum
 for the bare necessaries of life4 ,in  
the aggregate this mounts up to a       
considerable sum1 and whatever is bought
 is equally shared by the parents4 ,they
 live exceedingly well4 ,such young men 

as these earn good wages1 and now and   
then make extra time1 and come home with
 a pocketful of money4 ,even after the  
inevitable alehouse has claimed its     
share1 there still remains enough to    
purchase fresh meat for supper2 and it  
is not at all unusual in such cottages  
to find the whole family supping at     
seven 7it is1 in fact1 dining7 on a     
fairly good joint of mutton1 with every 
species of common vegetables4 ,in one   
case that was brought under my notice   
three brothers lived with their aged    
mother4 ,they were all strong1          
hard-working men1 and tolerably steady4 
,in that cottage there were no less than
 four separate barrels of beer1 and all 
on tap4 ,four barrels in one cottage    
seems an extraordinary thing1 yet it    
resolved itself very simply4 ,the       
cottage was the mother's2 they gave her 
so much for lodging1 and she had her own
 barrel of beer1 so that there should be
 no dispute4 ,the three brothers were   
mowers--mowers drink enormous quantities

 of liquor--and with the same view to   
prevent dispute each had his own        
especial barrel4 ,families like this    
live fairly well1 and have many little  
comforts4 ,still1 at the best1 in winter
 it is a rough and uncomfortable        
existence4  ,in the life of the ,english
 agricultural labourers there is        
absolutely no poetry1 no colour4 ,even  
their marriages--times when if ever in  
life poetry will manifest itself--are   
sober1 dull1 tame1 clumsy1 and          
colourless4 ,i say sober in the sense of
 tint1 for to get drunk appears to be   
the one social pleasure of the          
marriage-day4 ,they1 of course1 walk to 
church2 but then that walk usually leads
 across fields full of all the beauties 
of the spring or the summer4 ,there is  
nothing in the walk itself to flatten   
down the occasion4 ,but the procession  
is so dull--so utterly ungenial--a      
stranger might pass it without guessing 
that a wedding was toward4 ,except a few
 rude jests2 except that there is an    

attempt to walk arm-in-arm 7it is only  
an attempt1 for they forget to allow for
 each other's motions72 except the      
,sunday dresses1 utterly devoid of      
taste1 what is there to distinguish this
 day from the rest8 ,there is the       
drunken carousal1 it is true1 all the   
afternoon and evening4 ,there are no    
fete days in the foreign sense in the   
,english labourer's life4 ,there are the
 fairs and feasts1 and a fair is the    
most melancholy of sights4 ,showmen's   
vans1 with pictures outside of unknown  
monsters2 merry-go-rounds1 nut stalls1  
gingerbread stalls1 cheap ,jacks1 and   
latterly photographic studios2 behind   
all these the alehouse2 the beating of  
drums and the squalling of pigs1 the    
blowing of horns1 and the neighing of   
horses trotted out for show1 the roar of
 a rude crowd--these constitute a       
country fair4 ,there is no              
colour--nothing flowery or poetical     
about this festival of the labourer4    
,the village feasts are still less      

interesting4 ,here and there the        
clergyman of the parish has succeeded in
 turning what was a rude saturnalia into
 a decorous fete1 with tea in a tent4   
,but generally the feasts are falling   
into rapid disuse1 and would perhaps    
have died away altogether had not the   
benefit societies often chosen that day 
for their annual club-dinner4 ,a village
 feast consists of two or three gipsies 
located on the greensward by the side of
 the road1 and displaying ginger-beer1  
nuts1 and toys for sale2 an ,aunt       
,sally2 and1 if the village is a large  
one1 the day may be honoured by the     
presence of what is called a            
rifle-gallery2 the feast really and     
truly does not exist4 ,some two or three
 of the old-fashioned farmers have the  
traditional roast beef and plum-pudding 
on that day1 and invite a few friends2  
but this custom is passing away4 ,in    
what the agricultural labourer's feast  
nowadays consists no one can tell4 ,it  
is an excuse for an extra quart or two  

of beer1 that is all4  ,this dulness is 
not1 perhaps1 the fault of the labourer4
 ,it may be that it is the fault of the 
national character1 shown more broadly  
in the lower class of the population4   
,speaking nationally1 we have no fete   
days--there is no colour in our mode of 
life4 ,these ,english agricultural      
labourers have no passion plays1 no     
peasant plays1 no rustic stage and      
drama1 few songs1 very little music4    
,the club dinner is the real fete of the
 labourer2 he gets plenty to eat and    
drink for that day4 ,it is this lack of 
poetical feeling that makes the ,english
 peasantry so uninteresting a study4    
,they have no appreciation of beauty4   
,many of them1 it is true1 grow         
quantities of flowers2 but barely one in
 a thousand could arrange those flowers 
in a bouquet4  ,the alehouse forms no   
inconsiderable part of the labourer's   
life4 ,it is at once his stock exchange1
 his reading-room1 his club1 and his    
assembly rooms4 ,it is here that his    

benefit society holds its annual dinner4
 ,the club meetings take place weekly or
 monthly in the great room upstairs4    
,here he learns the news of the day2 the
 local papers are always to be found at 
the public-house1 and if he cannot read 
himself he hears the news from those who
 can4 ,in the winter he finds heat and  
light1 too often lacking at home2 at all
 times he finds amusement2 and who can  
blame him for seizing what little       
pleasure lies in his way8 ,as a rule the
 beerhouse is the only place of         
amusement to which he can resort3 it is 
his theatre1 his music-hall1            
picture-gallery1 and ,crystal ,palace4  
,the recent enactments bearing upon the 
licensed victuallers have been rather   
hard upon the agricultural labourer4 ,no
 doubt they are very excellent          
enactments1 especially those relating to
 early closing2 but in the villages and 
outlying rural districts1 where life is 
reduced to its most rude and simple     
form1 many of the restrictions are      

unjust1 and deprive the labourer of what
 he feels to be his legitimate right4   
,playing at nine-pins1 for instance1 is 
practically forbidden1 so also dominoes4
 ,now1 it was a great thing to put down 
skittle-sharping and cheating at        
gambling generally--a good thing to     
discourage gambling in every form--but  
in these thinly-populated outlying      
agricultural parishes1 where money is   
scarce and wages low1 there never       
existed any temptation to allure        
skittle-sharpers and similar cheaters to
 the spot4 ,the game at skittles was a  
legitimate game--a fair and honest      
struggle of skill and strength4 ,nine   
times out of ten it was played only for 
a quart of ale1 to be drunk by the loser
 as well as the winner in good          
fellowship4 ,why deprive the man who    
labours all day in wet and storm of so  
simple a pleasure in the evening8 ,the  
conditions are very different to those  
existing in large manufacturing towns1  
and some modification of the law ought  

to be made4 ,the agricultural labourer  
has no cheap theatre at which he can    
spend an hour1 no music-hall1 no        
reading-room2 his only resource is the  
public-house4 ,now that he is           
practically deprived of his skittles and
 such games1 he has no amusement left   
except to drink1 or play at pitch and   
toss on the quiet1 a far worse pastime  
than skittles4 ,skittles1 of course1 are
 allowed provided the players play for  
love only2 but what public-house keeper 
cares to put up the necessary           
arrangements on such terms8 ,the        
labourer will have his quart in the     
evening1 and1 despite of all cry to the 
contrary1 ,i believe it to be his right 
to have that quart2 and it is better1 if
 he must have it1 that his whole        
thoughts should not be concentrated on  
the liquor--that he should earn it by   
skill and strength4 ,there is an        
opprobrium about the public-house1 and  
let us grant that it is at least        
partially deserved--but where else is   

the labourer to go8 ,he cannot for ever 
work all day and sit in his narrow cabin
 in the evening4 ,he cannot always read1
 and those of his class who do read do  
so imperfectly4 ,a reading-room has been
 tried1 but as a rule it fails to       
attract the purely agricultural         
labourer4 ,the shoemaker1 the tailor1   
the village post-master1 grocer1 and    
such people may use it2 also a few of   
the better-educated of the young        
labourers1 the rising generation2 but   
not the full-grown labourer with a wife 
and family and cottage4 ,it does good   
undoubtedly2 in the future1 as education
 extends1 it will become a place of     
resort4 ,but at present it fails to     
reach the adult genuine agricultural    
labourer4 ,for a short period in the    
dead of the winter the farmers and      
gentry get up penny readings in many    
places1 but these are confined to at    
most one evening a week4 ,what1 then1 is
 the labourer to do8 ,let any one put   
himself in his place1 try to realise his

 feelings and circumstances4 ,at        
present1 till education extends1 he must
 go to the public-house4 ,is he to be   
punished and deprived of his game of    
skill because in large towns it bears   
evil fruit8 ,surely the law could be    
somewhat modified1 and playing permitted
 under some restrictions4  ,the early   
closing has been an unalloyed good in   
these rural districts4 ,the labourer is 
a steady drinker4 ,he does not toss down
 glasses of stiff brandy and whisky4    
,his beer requires time to produce an   
effect4 ,the last hour does the         
mischief4 ,since the earlier closing the
 village streets have been comparatively
 free from drunken men4 ,in any case1   
the agricultural labourer is the most   
lamb-like of drunkards4 ,he interferes  
with no one4 ,he unhinges no gates1     
smashes no windows1 does no injury4 ,he 
either staggers home or quietly lies on 
the grass till the liquor passes off4   
,he is not a quarrelsome man4 ,he does  
not fight with knuckle-dusters or kick  

with his heavy boots4 ,his fights1 when 
he does fight1 are very harmless        
affairs4 ,no doubt his drunkenness is an
 offence2 but it is comparatively       
innocuous to the general public4        
,religious feeling does not run high    
among the labourers4 ,a large proportion
 of them are                            
,nonconformists--principally            
,methodists4 ,but this is not out of any
 very decided notion as to the          
difference of ceremony or theological   
dogma2 it arises out of a class feeling4
 ,they say1 or rather they feel1 that   
this is their church4 ,the parish church
 is the church of the farmers and the   
gentry4 ,there is no hostility to the   
clergyman of the parish1 no bitter      
warfare of sect against sect1 or of     
,methodist against ,churchman4 ,but you 
see very few of the farmers go to       
chapel4 ,the labourer goes there1 and   
finds his own friends--his cousins and  
uncles--his wife's relations4 ,he is    
among his own class4 ,there is no       

feeling of inferiority4 ,the religion   
taught1 the service1 the hymns1 the     
preacher1 all are his4 ,he has a sense  
of proprietorship in them4 ,he helps to 
pay for them4 ,the ,french peasant      
replied to the ,english tourist1 who    
expressed surprise at the fanatic love  
of the populace for the first           
,napoleon--he was as much a tyrant as   
,king ,louis was4 ,ah1 but ,napoleon was
 our king4 ,so the labourers feel that  
this is their religion4 ,therefore it is
 that so many of them gather together   
7where there are no chapels7 in the     
cottage of some man who takes the lead1 
and sit1 with doors and windows shut1   
crammed together to pray and listen to  
others pray4 ,any of them who wishes    
can1 as it were1 ascend the pulpit here4
 ,this is why in so many parishes the   
pews of the parish church are           
comparatively empty so far as           
agricultural labourers are concerned4   
,the best of clergymen must fail to fill
 them under such disadvantages4  ,it is 

very difficult not only for the         
clergyman1 but for others who wish to   
improve the condition of the labourer1  
to reach him4 ,better cottages are1 of  
course1 a most effectual way1 but it is 
not in the power of every one to confer 
so substantial a benefit4 ,perhaps one  
of the best means devised has been that 
of cottage flower-shows4 ,these are1 of 
course1 not confined to flowers2 in     
fact1 the principal part of such shows  
consists of table vegetables and fruit4 
,by rigidly excluding all gardeners1 and
 all persons not strictly cottage       
people1 the very best results have often
 been arrived at in this way4 ,for if   
there is one thing in which the labourer
 takes an interest it is his garden and 
his allotment4 ,to offer him prizes for 
the finest productions of his garden    
touches the most sensitive part of his  
moral organisation4 ,it is wonderful    
what an amount of emulation these prizes
 excite--emulation not so much for the  
value of the prize as for the           

distinction4 ,these competitions tend   
besides to provide him with a better    
class of food1 for he depends largely   
upon vegetables4  ,there is nothing     
connected with the condition of the     
agricultural poor that is better worth  
the attention of improvers than the     
style of cookery pursued in these       
cottages4 ,a more wretched cookery      
probably does not exist on the face of  
the earth4 ,the soddened cabbage is     
typical of the whole thing4 ,since      
higher wages have come in it has become 
possible for the labourer in many cases 
to provide himself with better food1    
such as mutton--the cheap parts--more   
bacon1 pork1 and so on2 but the women do
 not know how to make the most of it4   
,it is very difficult to lay down a way 
in which this defect may be remedied2   
for there is nothing a man1 let him be  
never so poor1 so deeply resents as an  
inspection of the contents of his pot4  
,he would sooner eat half-raw bacon than
 have the teaching forced on him--how to

 make savoury meals of the simple       
provisions within his reach2 nor can he 
be blamed for this sturdy independent   
feeling4 ,possibly the establishment of 
schools of cookery in villages might do 
much good4 ,they might be attached to   
the new schools now building throughout 
the country4 ,the labourer1 from so long
 living upon coarse1 ill-cooked food1   
acquires an artificial taste4 ,some men 
eat their bacon raw2 others will drink  
large quantities of vinegar1 and well   
they may need it to correct by its      
acidity the effects of strong           
unwholesome cabbage4 ,the cottage cook  
has no idea of those nutritious and     
pleasant soups which can be made to form
 so important a feature in the economy  
of daily life4  ,the labourer is in a   
lower degree of the same class as the   
third-rate working farmer of the past4  
,he is the old small dairy farmer in a  
coarser shape4 ,with a little less      
education1 ruder manners1 with the      
instincts of eating1 drinking1 and      

avarice more prominently displayed1 he  
presents in his actual condition at this
 day a striking analogy to the          
agriculturist of a bygone time4 ,in     
fact1 those farmers of twenty or thirty 
acres1 living in cottage-like           
homesteads1 were barely distinguishable 
as far as personnel went from the       
labourers among whom they lived4 ,this  
being the case1 it is not surprising to 
find that the labourer of this day      
presents in general characteristics a   
marked affinity in ideas and sentiments 
to those entertained by the old farmer4 
,he has the same paternal creed in a    
more primeval form4 ,he considers his   
children as his absolute property4 ,he  
rules them with a rod of iron1 or rather
 of ground-ash4 ,in fact1 the ground-ash
 stick is his social religion4 ,the     
agricultural labouring poor are very    
rough and even brutal towards their     
children4 ,not that they are without    
affection towards them1 but they are    
used to thrash them into obedience      

instead of leading them into it by the  
gentle means of moral persuasion4       
,bystanders would call the agricultural 
labourer cruel4 ,carters1 for instance1 
had till lately a habit of knocking the 
boys under their control about in a     
brutal manner4 ,but ,i do not think that
 in the mass of cases it arose from     
deliberate cruelty1 but from a species  
of stolid indifference or insensibility 
to suffering4 ,somehow they do not seem 
to understand that others suffer1       
whether this arises from the rough life 
they lead1 the endless battle with the  
weather1 the hard fare--whether it has  
grown up out of the circumstances       
surrounding them4 ,the same unfeeling   
brutality often extends to the cattle   
under their care4 ,in this there has    
been a decided improvement of late      
years2 but it is not yet extinct4       
,these are some of the lights and shades
 of the labourer's daily life           
impartially presented4                  
,,field-,,faring ,,women4   ,if a       

thoughtful ,english peasant-woman       
rejoiced that in her house a son was    
born1 it would be1 not because she had  
gotten a man from the ,lord1 but a      
thanksgiving that it was not a girl4    
,that most natural thanksgiving of the  
,hebrew woman is too rarely heard in the
 rural cottage1 situated though it may  
be in the midst of meadows and fields   
abounding with the fat of the earth4    
,the fact that a fresh being has entered
 upon life1 with all its glorious       
possibilities1 is not a subject for joy4
  ,well1 ,john1 the farmer says to his  
man1 your wife has been confined1 hasn't
 she8 ,how's the young one8  ,aw1 sir1  
a' be main weak and picked1 an' like to 
go back--thank ,god6 replies the        
labourer with intense satisfaction1     
especially if he has two or three       
children already4 ,picked means thin1   
sharp-featured1 wasted1 emaciated4 ,to  
go back is to die4 ,the man does not    
like to say die1 therefore he puts it to
 go back--i4e41 whence it came2 from the

 unknown4 ,yet1 with all this hard      
indifference1 the labourer is as fond of
 his children as any one else4 ,the ego 
that utters those apparently heartless  
words is not the real man1 it is the ego
 produced by long experience of the     
hardships of poverty2 of coarse fare1   
rude labour1 exposure4 ,after all1 it is
 in a spirit of tenderness towards the  
infant that the parent half desires it  
to die4 ,the real ego1 the true man1    
delights as all humanity does in        
watching the growth of the tiny limbs1  
the expansion of the instincts into     
mind1 and the first employment of that  
mind4 ,he feels as ,marguerite in ,faust
 felt1 tending the babe--the holiest of 
all joys4 ,but life is very1 very hard1 
and circumstances push him out of       
himself4 ,still more do these hardships 
tell upon his wife2 and so it is1       
knowing what her sex have to go through1
 that she welcomes a boy more than a    
girl4 ,an aged agricultural woman said  
she would sooner have seven boys than   

one girl2 for the former1 when they     
became lads1 went out and earned their  
own living1 but the girls you never knew
 when they were got rid of--they were   
always coming back4 ,this expressed the 
practical view of the matter4 ,but      
supposing that the child should prove a 
girl2 it must not be imagined that it   
receives any ruder treatment in mere    
infancy than a boy would have had4 ,in  
early infancy children have no sex4 ,but
 the poor mother has her trials4 ,though
 in the midst of a country teeming with 
milk1 it is often with the utmost       
difficulty that she can obtain any for  
her babe1 if ,nature shall have rendered
 her dependent upon artificial supply4  
,this has become especially the case of 
late years1 now that so much milk is    
sent to ,london1 instead of being       
retained in the dairy for the           
manufacture of butter and cheese4 ,so   
that it actually happens that the poor  
mother in the courts of the metropolis  
can obtain milk easier than her far-away

 sister in those fabulous fields which  
the city woman has never seen1 and1     
perhaps1 never will4 ,often in arable   
districts there are scarcely any cows   
kept4 ,no one cares to retail a         
pennyworth of milk4 ,it is only by      
favour1 through the interest taken by   
some farmer's wife1 that it can be got4 
,very few agricultural women have a     
medical man present at their            
confinement2 they usually entrust       
themselves to the care of some village  
nurse1 who has a reputation for skill in
 such matters1 but no scientifically    
acquired knowledge--who proceeds by rule
 of thumb4 ,the doctor--almost always   
the parish doctor1 though sometimes the 
club officer--is not called in till     
after the delivery4 ,the poor woman will
 frequently come downstairs on the      
fourth day2 and it is to this disregard 
of proper precautions that the          
distortions of figure and many of the   
illnesses of poor agricultural women are
 attributable4 ,nothing but the severe  

training they have gone through from    
childhood upwards--the exposure to all  
kinds of weather--the life in the open  
air1 the physical strength induced by   
labour1 can enable them to support the  
strain upon the frame caused by so      
quickly endeavouring to resume their    
household duties4 ,it is probably this  
reserve of strength which enables them  
to recover from so serious a matter so  
quickly4 ,certain it is that very few   
die from confinement2 and yet1 from the 
point of view of the middle class of    
society1 almost every precaution and    
every luxury by them deemed necessary is
 omitted4 ,of course1 in some instances1
 agricultural women whose husbands have1
 perhaps1 worked for one master from    
boyhood1 receive much more attention    
than here indicated--wines1 jellies1    
meat1 and so on--but the majority have  
to rely upon the tender mercies of the  
parish4 ,it has been often remarked that
 the labourer1 let him be in receipt of 
what wages he will1 makes no provision  

for this1 the most serious and          
interesting of all domestic events4     
,though it can be foreseen for months1  
he does not save a single sovereign4 ,he
 does not consider it in the least      
shameful to receive parish relief on    
these occasions2 he leaves his partner  
entirely to the mercy of strangers1 and 
were it not for the clergyman's wife1   
she would frequently be without         
sympathy4 ,there are no matters in which
 so much practical good is accomplished 
by the wives of the rural clergy as in  
these confinements of the poor women in 
their parishes4 ,it is a matter         
peculiarly within their sphere1 and1 to 
their honour be it spoken1 one which    
they carry out to the utmost of their   
ability4  ,a cottage is at best a       
wretched place to be ill in4 ,it is a   
marvel how many poor women escape at    
all1 from the close atmosphere of the   
low-pitched holes in which they are     
confined4 ,it is a wonder that1 among   
the many schemes of philanthropy which  

have attracted attention of late years1 
something has not been done for these   
poor creatures4 ,why should not every   
large village or cluster of             
villages--there are often three or four 
within a mile or two--have their        
lying-in hospitals1 on the cottage      
hospital system8 ,scarcely any parish   
but has its so-called charities--money  
left by misguided but benevolent        
persons1 for the purpose of annual      
distribution in small doles of groats1  
or loaves1 or blankets4 ,often there is 
a piece of land called ,poor's ,mead1 or
 some similar name1 which has been      
devised like this1 the annual rent from 
it to be applied for the poor4 ,as it   
is1 the benefit from these charities is 
problematical4 ,if they were combined1  
and the aggregate funds applied to      
maintain a lying-in hospital for the    
district1 a real and efficient good     
would be arrived at4 ,but of all places1
 villages are neglected4 ,let it be     
drainage1 water supply1                 

allotments--anything and everything--the
 villages go on as they may1 the fault  
being the absence of local authority4   
,there are plenty of gentlemen ready and
 willing to take part in and advance    
such schemes1 but there is no           
combination4 ,spontaneous combination is
 uncertain in its operation4 ,if there  
were some system of village             
self-government1 these wants would be   
soon supplied4 ,it is true that there is
 the ,union ,workhouse4 ,a poor woman   
can go to the workhouse2 but is it      
right1 is it desirable from any point of
 view1 that decent women should be      
driven to the workhouse at such times8  
,as a matter of fact1 it is only the    
unfortunates who have illegitimate      
children that use the workhouse lying-in
 wards4 ,such an institution as has been
 suggested would be gladly welcomed by  
the agricultural poor4 ,most cottages   
have but two bedrooms1 some only one2 a 
better class of cottage is now being    
gradually erected with three1 but even  

in these the third is very small4 ,now1 
take the case of a labouring man with   
seven or eight children1 and living in a
 cottage with two bedrooms1 and whose   
wife is confined2 and let it be         
remembered that large families are      
common amongst this class4 ,the wife    
must certainly have one room to herself 
and her attendant4 ,the father1 then1   
and his children must crowd into the    
other1 or sleep as they can on the      
ground-floor4 ,in the case of nearly    
grown-up children the overcrowding is a 
serious matter4 ,the relief afforded by 
a lying-in hospital would be immense2   
and the poor woman herself would be     
restored to her family with her health  
firmly re-established1 whereas now she  
often lingers in a sickly state for     
months4  ,in the soft1 warm summer-time1
 when the midsummer hum of the myriads  
of insects in the air sheds a drowsy    
harmony over the tree-tops1 the         
field-faring woman goes out to          
haymaking1 and leaves her baby in the   

shade by the hedge-side4 ,a wooden      
sheepcage1 turned upside down and filled
 with new-made hay1 forms not at all a  
despicable cradle2 and here the little  
thing lies on its back and inhales the  
fresh pure air1 and feels the warmth of 
the genial sun1 cheered from time to    
time by visits from its busy mother4    
,perhaps this is the only true poetry of
 the hayfield1 so much talked of and    
praised4 ,the mother works with her     
rake1 or with a shorter1 smaller prong2 
and if it is a large farm1 the women are
 kept as much as possible together1 for 
their strength and skill will not allow 
them to work at the same pace as the    
men1 and if they work in company the one
 hinders the other4 ,a man can do the   
work of two women1 and do it better in  
every way1 besides being capable of the 
heavier tasks of pitching1 cock-making1 
c41 which the women cannot manage4      
,before the haymaking machines and      
horse-rakes came into vogue1 it was not 
uncommon to see as many as twenty women 

following each other in echelon1 turning
 a wallow1 or shaking up the green      
swathes left by the mowers4 ,farmers    
were obliged to employ them1 but were   
never satisfied with their work1 which  
was the dearest they paid for4 ,somehow1
 there was no finish to it4 ,large      
numbers of women still work in the      
hayfield1 but they are not used in gangs
 so much as formerly1 but distributed   
about to do light jobs for which a man  
cannot be spared1 and in these they are 
useful4 ,the pay used to be tenpence a  
day2 now it is one shilling and a pint  
of beer per day1 and in some places     
fifteenpence4 ,the ,arcadian innocence  
of the hayfield1 sung by the poets1 is  
the most barefaced fiction2 for those   
times are the rural saturnalia1 and the 
broadest and coarsest of jokes and      
insinuations are freely circulated2 nor 
does it always stop at language only1   
provided the master be out of sight4    
,matrons and young girls alike come in  
for an equal share of this rude         

treatment1 and are quite a match for the
 men in the force of compliment4 ,the   
women leave work an hour or so before   
the men1 except when there is a press1  
and the farmer is anxious to get in the 
hay before a storm comes4 ,it is not    
that the hayfield itself originates this
 coarseness but this is almost the only 
time of the year when the labouring     
classes work together in large numbers4 
,a great deal of farm-work is           
comparatively solitary2 in harvest      
droves of people are collected together1
 and the inherent vulgarity comes out   
more strongly4 ,at the wheat-harvest the
 women go reaping1 and exceedingly hard 
they work at it4 ,there is no harder    
work done under the sun than reaping1 if
 it is well followed up4 ,from earliest 
dawn to latest night they swing the     
sickles1 staying with their husbands1   
and brothers1 and friends1 till the moon
 silvers the yellow corn4 ,the reason is
 because reaping is piece-work1 and not 
paid by the day1 so that the longer and 

the harder they work the more money is  
earned4 ,in this a man's whole family   
can assist4 ,his wife1 his grown-up sons
 and daughters cut the corn1 the younger
 ones can carry it and aid in various   
ways4  ,it is wonderful how the men     
stand the excessive and continuous      
labour2 it is still more wonderful how  
the women endure it1 trying as it is to 
the back4 ,it is the hottest season of  
the year--the early autumn2 the sun     
burns and scorches1 and the warm wind   
gives no relief2 even the evenings are  
close and sultry4 ,the heated earth     
reflects the rays1 and the straw is dry 
and warm to the touch4 ,the standing    
corn1 nearly as high as the reaper1     
keeps off the breeze1 if there is any1  
from her brow4 ,grasping the straw      
continuously cuts and wounds the hand1  
and even gloves will hardly give perfect
 protection4 ,the woman's bare neck is  
turned to the colour of tan2 her thin   
muscular arms bronze right up to the    
shoulder4 ,short time is allowed for    

refreshment2 right through the hottest  
part of the day they labour4 ,it is     
remarkable that none1 or very few1 cases
 of sunstroke occur4 ,cases of vertigo  
and vomiting are frequent1 but pass off 
in a few hours4 ,large quantities of    
liquor are taken to sustain the frame   
weakened by perspiration4  ,when night  
does arrive1 even then the task is not  
over1 for they have to carry home on    
their heads the bundle of wheat gleaned 
by the smaller children1 and perhaps    
walk two miles to the cottage4 ,this is 
indeed work for a woman still suckling  
her child4 ,it is not easy to calculate 
what a woman earns at such seasons1     
because they rarely work on their own   
account3 either the father or the       
husband receives the wages in a lump    
with his own2 but it cannot be much less
 than that earned by a man2 for at these
 times they work with a will1 and they  
do not at the haymaking4 ,while reaping 
the baby is nestled down on a heap of   
coats or shawls under the shelter of the

 shocks of corn1 which form a little hut
 for it1 and1 as in the hayfield1 is    
watched by one of the children4 ,often  
three or four women will place their    
babies close together1 and leave one    
great girl in charge of the whole1 which
 is an economy1 releasing other children
 for work2 for the hayfield and the     
corn-harvest are the labourer's         
gold-mine4 ,there is not so much rough  
joking in the corn-field2 they do not   
work so close together1 and the husband 
or father is near at hand2 neither is   
there time nor inclination in the midst 
of such severe labour1 to which         
haymaking is play4  ,harvest-homes are  
going out of fashion4 ,after one of     
these feasts there was often much that  
was objectionable2 and1 wherever        
possible1 farmers have abolished them1  
giving a small sum of money instead2 but
 in places the labourers grumble greatly
 at the change1 preferring the bacon and
 the beer1 and the unrestrained license4
 ,it is noticeable how the women must   

have their tea4 ,if it is far from home1
 the children collect sticks1 and a fire
 is made in a corner of the field1 and  
the kettle boiled2 and about four       
o'clock they take a cup in              
company--always weak tea1 with a little 
brown sugar and no milk1 and usually    
small pieces of bread sopped in it1     
especially by the elder women4 ,tea is  
largely used by the agricultural        
labourers1 though it does not by any    
means prevent them from indulging in    
beer4 ,snuff is not taken by the women  
half so much as formerly1 though some of
 the old ones are very fond of it4  ,as 
soon as ever the child is old enough to 
crawl about1 it is sure to get out into 
the road and roll in the dust4 ,it is a 
curious fact that the agricultural      
children1 with every advantage of green 
fields and wide open downs1 always      
choose the dusty hard road to play in4  
,they are free to wander as they list   
over mead and leaze1 and pluck the      
flowers out of the hedges1 and idle by  

the brooks1 all the year round1 the     
latter part of the spring1 when the     
grass is nearly fit for mowing1 only    
excepted4 ,yet1 excepting a few of the  
elder boys birdnesting1 it is the rarest
 thing to meet a troop of children in   
the fields2 but there they are in the   
road1 the younger ones sprawling in the 
dust1 their naked limbs kicking it up in
 clouds1 and the bigger boys clambering 
about in the hedge-mound bounding the   
road1 making gaps1 splashing in the     
dirty water of the ditches4 ,hardy young
 dogs one and all4 ,their food is of the
 rudest and scantiest1 chiefly weak tea1
 without milk1 sweetened with moist     
sugar1 and hunches of dry bread1        
sometimes with a little lard1 or1 for a 
treat1 with treacle4 ,butter is scarcely
 ever used in the agricultural          
labourer's cottage4 ,it is too dear by  
far1 and if he does buy fats1 he        
believes in the fats expressed from     
meats1 and prefers lard or dripping4    
,children are frequently fed with bread 

and cheap sugar spread on it4 ,this is  
much cheaper than butter4 ,sometimes    
they get a bit of cheese or bacon1 but  
not often1 and a good deal of strong    
cabbage1 soddened with pot-liquor4 ,the 
elder boys get a little beer2 the young 
girls none1 save perhaps a sip from     
their mother's pint1 in summer4 ,this is
 what they have to build up a frame on  
capable of sustaining heat and cold1    
exposure1 and a life of endless labour4 
,the boys it seems to suit1 for they are
 generally tolerably plump1 though      
always very short for their age4        
,frequently teams of powerful horses    
drawing immense loads of hay or straw   
may be seen on the highway1 in the      
charge of a boy who does not look ten   
years old judged by the town standard1  
but who is really fifteen4 ,these short1
 broad1 stout lads1 look able to stand  
anything1 and in point of fact do stand 
it1 from the kick of a carter's heavy   
boot to the long and bitter winter4 ,if 
it is wished to breed up a race of men  

literally hard as nails1 no better      
process could be devised2 but1 looked at
 from a mental and moral point of view1 
there may be a difference of opinion4   
,the girls do not appear to thrive so   
well upon this dietary4 ,they are as    
tall as the boys1 taller if anything    
considering the ages1 but thin and      
skinny1 angular and bony4 ,at seven or  
eight years old the girl's labour       
begins4 ,before that she has been set to
 mind the baby1 or watch the pot1 and to
 scour about the hedges for sticks for  
the fire4 ,now she has not only to mind 
the baby1 but to nurse it2 she carries  
it about with her in her arms2 and      
really the infant looks almost as large 
as herself1 and its weight compels her  
to lean backwards4 ,she is left at home 
all day in charge of the baby1 the      
younger children1 and the cottage4      
,perhaps a little bread is left for them
 to eat1 but they get nothing more till 
the mother returns about half-past four1
 when1 woe be to the girl if the fire is

 not lit1 and the kettle on4 ,the girl  
has to fetch the water--often a hard and
 tedious task1 for many villages have a 
most imperfect supply1 and you may see  
the ditches by the roadside dammed up to
 yield a little dirty water4 ,she may   
have to walk half-a-mile to the brook1  
and then carry the bucket home as best  
she may1 and repeat the operation till  
sufficient has been acquired2 and when  
her mother is washing1 or1 still worse1 
is a washerwoman by profession1 this is 
her weary trudge all day4 ,of course    
there are villages where water is at    
hand1 and sometimes too much of it4 ,i  
know a large village where the brook    
runs beside the highway1 and you have to
 pass over a drock1 or small bridge1 to 
get to each of the cottages2 but such   
instances are rare4 ,the girl has also  
to walk into the adjacent town and bring
 back the bread1 particularly if her    
mother happens to be receiving parish   
pay4 ,a little older--at ten or eleven1 
or twelve--still more skinny and bony   

now as a rule1 she follows her mother to
 the fields1 and learns to pick up      
stones from the young mowing grass1 and 
place them in heaps to be carted away to
 mend drinking places for cattle4 ,she  
learns to beat clots and spread them    
with a small prong2 she works in the    
hayfield1 and gleans at the             
corn-harvest4 ,gleaning--poetical       
gleaning--is the most unpleasant and    
uncomfortable of labour1 tedious1 slow1 
back-aching work2 picking up ear by ear 
the dropped wheat1 searching among the  
prickly stubble4  ,notwithstanding all  
her labour1 and the hardship she has to 
endure--coarse fare1 and churlish       
treatment at the hands of those who     
should love her most--the little        
agricultural girl still retains some of 
that natural inclination towards the    
pretty and romantic inherent in the sex4
 ,in the spring she makes daisy chains1 
and winds them round the baby's neck2 or
 with the stalks of the dandelion makes 
a chain several feet in length4 ,she    

plucks great bunches of the beautiful   
bluebell1 and of the purple orchis of   
the meadow2 gathers heaps of the        
cowslip1 and after playing with them a  
little while1 they are left to wither in
 the dust by the roadside1 while she is 
sent two or three miles with her        
father's dinner4 ,she chants snatches of
 rural songs1 and sometimes three or    
four together1 joining hands1 dance     
slowly round and round1 singing slowly  
rude rhymes describing marriage--and not
 over decent some of these rhymes are4  
,she has no toys--not one in twenty such
 girls ever have a doll2 or1 if they do1
 it is but some stick dressed in a rag4 
,poor things6 they need no artificial   
dolls2 so soon as ever they can lift it1
 they are trusted with the real baby4   
,her parents probably do not mean to be 
unkind1 and use makes this treatment    
bearable1 but to an outsider it seems   
unnecessarily rough1 and even brutal4   
,her mother shouts at her in a shrill   
treble perpetually2 her father enforces 

his orders with a harsh oath and a slap4
  ,the pressure of hard circumstances1  
the endless battle with poverty1 render 
men and women both callous to others'   
feelings1 and particularly strict to    
those over whom they possess unlimited  
authority4 ,but the labourer must not be
 judged too harshly3 there is a scale in
 these matters2 a proportion as in      
everything else2 an oath from him1 and  
even a slap on the ear1 is really the   
counterpart of the frown and emphasised 
words of a father in a more fortunate   
class of life2 and the children do not  
feel it1 or think it exceptionally      
cruel1 as the children of a richer man  
would4 ,undoubtedly1 however1 it does   
lessen the bond between child and       
parent4 ,there is little filial         
affection among these cottagers--how    
should there be8 ,the boy is driven away
 from home as early as possible2 the    
girl is made day by day to feel her     
fault in being a girl2 to neither can   
the poor man give any small present1 or 

any occasional treat4 ,what love there  
is lasts longest between the mother and 
her daughter4 ,the only way in which a  
labourer exhibits his affection is when 
another labourer in authority1 as a     
carter1 ill-treats his boy--a too common
 case--and then he speaks loudly1 and   
very properly4 ,but even in most serious
 matters there is a strange callousness4
 ,i have known instances in which a     
father1 aware that a criminal assault   
has been attempted by another labourer  
upon a tender child of twelve1 has      
refused to prosecute1 and the brutal    
offender would have escaped without the 
slightest punishment had not the        
clergyman heard of the story4  ,the slow
 years roll by--they are indeed slow in 
an agricultural village--and the girl1  
now fifteen1 has to go regularly to work
 in the fields2 that is1 if the family  
be not meantime largely increased4 ,she 
has in this latter case plenty of work  
at home to assist her mother4 ,cottagers
 are not over-clean1 but they are not   

wilfully dirty in their houses2 and with
 a large family there is much washing   
and other domestic matters to attend to1
 which the mother1 now fast growing     
feeble1 cannot get through herself4 ,in 
harvest the women get up at four or     
earlier1 and do their household work    
before starting for the fields4 ,but1   
perhaps1 by this time another girl has  
grown up sufficiently to nurse baby1    
mind the young ones1 and do slave's work
 generally4 ,then the elder daughter    
goes to the fields daily when there is  
work to be had4 ,in arable districts the
 women do much work1 picking couch      
grass--a tedious operation--and hoeing4 
,they never or rarely milk now4 ,in the 
dead of winter there is nothing for     
women to do4 ,at this age--fifteen or   
sixteen--the girl perhaps goes out to   
service at some farmhouse4 ,if she is   
fortunate enough to enter the house of  
one of the modern class of farmers1 it  
is a lucky day for her when she begins  
indoor labour4 ,it is to be feared that 

the life of a girl of this kind in the  
old time1 and not so long ago1 in the   
houses of the poorer order of farmers1  
was a rough one indeed4 ,but much of    
that is past1 never to return1 and our  
business is with the present4 ,where    
they have a dairy she has to clean the  
buckets and milk-cans and other         
utensils1 to help turn the cheeses1 and 
assist the dairymaid 7a most important  
personage this last7 in all kinds of    
ways4 ,the work is coarse and rude1 but 
it only lasts a portion of the day1 and 
she has regular and ample meals4 ,the   
bacon and cheese soon begin to tell upon
 her4 ,the angular bones disappear1 the 
skinny arms grow round1 and presently   
enormously fat--not much the prettier1  
perhaps1 but far more pleasant to look  
at4 ,her face loses the pinched         
expression2 her cheeks become full1 and 
round1 and rosy2 in every way her       
physical frame improves4 ,it is         
wonderful what a difference a few months
 in a good farmhouse makes to a girl of 

this kind4 ,she soon begins to dress    
better1 not from her wages1 for these   
are small enough1 and may commence as   
low as ,l#d2 but her mistress gives her 
many things1 and1 if she is a good girl1
 buys her a dress now and then2 and with
 the shilling or two she asks in        
advance1 she purchases cheap ornaments  
of the pedlar at the door4 ,her life is 
low enough socially--it is almost an    
annual round of working1 eating1 and    
sleeping 7no one sleeps like a          
farm-wench72 but it is an infinite      
improvement upon the struggle for       
existence at the cottage4 ,she has no   
trouble1 no thought1 no care now4 ,her  
mistress may snap occasionally1 her     
master may grumble1 and the dairymaid   
may snarl2 but there are no slaps on the
 ear1 no kicks1 no going to bed         
supperless4 ,in summer she goes out in  
the afternoon haymaking as an extra     
hand1 but only works a few hours1 and it
 is really only a relaxation4 ,she picks
 up some knowledge of cooking1 learns   

how to make herself useful in the house1
 and in the course of a year or two1 if 
moderately sharp1 is capable of rising a
 degree1 and obtaining a better salary  
as a maid-servant1 having nothing to do 
with a dairy4 ,the four or five pounds  
with which she commences may seem a very
 low sum1 but the state of her domestic 
education at the time must be taken into
 consideration4 ,she has to learn       
everything4 ,all the years spent in     
working in the cottage at home have to  
be unlearnt--all the old habits replaced
 by new ones4 ,after the first year or  
so her value rises considerably2 she may
 continue in the house at a higher      
salary1 or go into the town as          
maid-servant in a tradesman's family4 ,a
 large proportion of servant-girls thus 
find their way from the country into the
 town4 ,with these we have nothing      
further to do--they are no longer       
field-farers4 ,a few after several years
 learn the art and mystery of butter and
 cheese1 and become dairymaids2 and     

then1 if they are clever1 earn good     
wages--indeed1 fabulous prices are asked
 by them4 ,there are not1 however1 so   
many dairymaids as formerly1 for the    
small dairies are getting amalgamated   
and made into larger ones1 and then the 
farmer1 if he makes butter and cheese1  
employs a dairyman in preference4 ,this 
rise to be maid-servant1 or to be       
dairymaid1 is the bright side of the    
girl's career4 ,there are darker shades 
which must be mentioned4  ,the          
overcrowding in cottages leads to what  
may be called an indifference to        
decency4 ,it is not that in families    
decency is wantonly and of a set purpose
 disregarded1 but stern necessity leads 
to a coarseness and indelicacy which    
hardens the mind and deadens the natural
 modesty even of the best girls4 ,then  
the low scandals of the village talked  
over from cottage to cottage1 the rude  
jokes of the hayfield1 the general      
looseness and indifference which prevail
 as to morality1 all prepare the girl   

for the too common fall4 ,if she remains
 at home and works in the fields after  
the age of fifteen1 unless uncommonly   
strong-minded1 it is an open question   
whether she will or will not succumb4   
,if she goes into a farmhouse as        
servant1 the chances are in favour of   
her escaping temptation4 ,but in        
farmhouses she may also sometimes run   
into the very jaws of danger4 ,it is not
 uncommon in some districts for young   
labourers to sleep in the house1 one or 
two who milk and have to be on the spot 
early4 ,these take their supper in the  
kitchen or the brewhouse1 and1 despite  
the strictest precautions on the part of
 the mistress1 enjoy plenty of          
opportunities for flirting with the     
girl4 ,young1 full of animal spirits1   
giddy and ignorant1 she thinks no harm  
of a romp1 and finally falls1 and has to
 leave her service4 ,if a little may be 
said in favour of the poor girls1 not a 
word can be said in favour of the       
agricultural men1 who are immoral almost

 without exception1 and will remain so  
until a better-educated generation with 
more self-respect arises4 ,the number of
 poor girls1 from fifteen to            
five-and-twenty1 in agricultural        
parishes who have illegitimate offspring
 is extremely large1 and is illustrated 
by the fact that1 out of the marriages  
that take place--and agricultural poor  
are a marrying class--scarcely any occur
 until the condition of the girl is too 
manifest to be any longer concealed4    
,instances could be mentioned where the 
clergyman's wife1 with a view to check  
the immorality around her1 has offered a
 reward of a piece of furniture to the  
first married woman who does not bear a 
child till nine months after marriage2  
the custom being within three months4   
,the frequency of the appeals to the    
petty sessions in rural districts for   
orders of contribution1 by young        
unmarried girls1 also illustrates the   
prevalent immorality4 ,of late the      
magistrates have taken the line of      

ordering contributions on a higher      
scale1 on the grounds that the labourer 
earns larger wages1 and that the cost of
 living has risen1 and also as a check  
upon the men4 ,this well-intentioned    
step has had the precisely opposite     
effect to what was wished4 ,the labourer
 with higher wages feels the demand upon
 his pocket but very little more4 ,the  
cost of living in rural outlying        
districts has risen only to a very      
trifling degree--barely perceptibly1 in 
fact4 ,bread is cheap--that is the      
staple--rents are the same1 and there   
are more allotments than ever1 making   
vegetables more easy to obtain4 ,the    
result1 therefore1 is this1 that the    
girl feels she can sin with comparative 
immunity4 ,she is almost sure to get her
 order 7very few such appeals are       
refused72 let this be supplemented with 
some aid from the parish1 and she is    
none the worse off than before1 for     
there is no prejudice against employing 
her in the fields4 ,should her fall take

 place with some young farmer's son from
 whom she may get a larger contribution 
in private1 or by order of the          
magistrates1 she is really and truly in 
a pecuniary sense better off than she   
was before1 for she has a certain fixed 
income4 ,the evil is aggravated by the  
new law1 which enables the order to be  
extended over a longer term of years    
than formerly1 so that for fifteen years
 is a common thing4 ,if it is decided to
 recognise immorality1 and to provide   
against the woman being unduly injured  
by it1 then these orders are certainly  
the correct procedure2 but if it is     
desired to suppress it1 then they are a 
total failure4 ,the girl who has had an 
illegitimate child is thought very      
little the worse of by her friends and  
her own class1 especially if her seducer
 is a man who can afford to pay for     
it--that is the grand point4 ,if she is 
fool enough to yield to a man who is    
badly off1 she may be jeered at as a    
fool1 but rarely reprimanded as a       

sinner1 not even by her own mother4     
,such things are not looked upon by the 
rural poor as sins1 but as accidents of 
their condition4  ,it is easy to be hard
 upon the poor girls1 but consider their
 training4 ,many of them cannot read or 
write2 how many even can sew well8 ,the 
cottage girl is always a poor hand at   
her needle1 and has to be taught by the 
elder servants when she first goes into 
her place4 ,accustomed from childhood to
 what would be considered abominable    
indecency in a higher class of life2    
constantly hearing phrases which it is  
impossible to allude to2 running wild   
about the lanes and fields with stalwart
 young men coarser and ruder than those 
at home2 seeing other girls none the    
worse off1 and commiserated with rather 
than condemned1 what wonder is it if the
 natural result takes place8 ,the fairs 
have been credited with much of the     
mischief1 and undoubtedly they are      
productive of evil2 but if they were    
abolished1 the average would in all     

probability remain about the same4 ,the 
evil is inherent1 and does not depend   
upon circumstances4 ,it is the outcome  
of a long series of generations2 it     
cannot be overcome in a decade4         
,education will do much1 but not all4   
,youth is always led by the tone of the 
elder people4 ,until the tone of the    
parent is improved1 the conduct of the  
young will remain much the same4 ,the   
more distant a parish from a town1 the  
more outlying and strictly agricultural1
 and therefore stagnant1 the greater the
 immorality4 ,it is the one blot upon   
the character of the agricultural poor4 
,they are not thieves1 they are not     
drunkards2 if they do drink they are    
harmless1 and it evaporates in shouting 
and slang4 ,they are not riotous2 but   
the immorality cannot be gainsaid4 ,no  
specific cure for this state of things  
can be devised3 it must slowly work     
itself out under the gradual pressure of
 an advancing social state4 ,it will be 
slow2 for1 up to the present1 the woman 

has had but a small share of the benefit
 that has befallen the labourer through 
higher wages4 ,if higher wages mainly go
 for drink1 the wife at home is not much
 the better4 ,the women say themselves  
they are no better off4  ,if the girl at
 eighteen or twenty--in most            
agricultural marriages the girls are    
very young--is fortunate enough to have 
placed her faith in a man who redeems   
his word1 then comes the difficulty of  
the cottage and the furniture to fill   
it4 ,cottages are often difficult to    
find1 especially anywhere near a man's  
work1 which is the great object4 ,the   
furniture required is not much1 but     
there must be some4 ,the labourer does  
not deal much with the town             
furniture-dealer4 ,a great deal of the  
furniture in cottages has been picked up
 at the sales of farmers on quitting    
their tenancies4 ,such are the old      
chairs1 the formal sideboards and       
eight-day clocks standing in tall1      
square oaken cases by the staircase in  

the cottage4 ,such1 too1 are the great  
wooden bedsteads of oak or maple        
upstairs2 and from the same source come 
the really good feather-beds and        
blankets4 ,the women--especially the    
elder women--go to great trouble1 and   
pinch themselves1 to find a way of      
purchasing a good bed1 and set no small 
pride upon it4 ,these old oaken         
bedsteads1 and sideboards1 and chairs   
have perhaps been in the farmhouse for  
three or four generations1 and are at   
last sold because the final             
representative of the family is imbued  
with modern ideas1 and quits farming for
 trade4 ,the cottagers always attend    
sales like this1 and occasionally get   
hold of good bargains1 and so it is that
 really good substantial furniture may  
often be found in the possession of the 
better class of labourers4 ,the old     
people accumulate these things1 and when
 their sons or daughters marry1 can     
generally spare a few chairs1 a bedstead
 and bed1 and with a little crockery    

from other relations1 and a few utensils
 bought in the adjacent town1 the       
cottage is furnished sufficiently well  
for a couple whose habits are           
necessarily simple4 ,after marriage the 
hard work of the woman's life really    
begins--work compared with which her    
early experience at home is nothing2 and
 many1 if they have left situations in  
farmhouses1 deeply regret the change4   
,the labourer can hardly be expected to 
feel the more exalted sentiments2 and if
 in the upper classes even it is said   
that romance ends with marriage1 it is  
doubly1 literally true of the           
agricultural poor4 ,in addition to her  
household work1 she has to labour in the
 fields1 or to wash--perhaps worse than 
the former alternative2 and after a     
while her husband1 too commonly wearying
 of his home1 in which he finds nothing 
but a tired woman and troublesome       
children1 leaves her for the            
public-house1 and consumes two-thirds of
 their slender income in beer4 ,the     

attachment of the woman for her husband 
lasts longer than that of the man for   
the woman4 ,even when he has become a   
confirmed drunkard1 and her life with   
incessant labour has become a burden to 
her1 she will struggle on1 striving to  
get bread for the children and the rent 
for the landlord4 ,she knows that as    
evening comes on1 instead of sitting    
down to rest1 her duty will be to go    
down to the public-house and wait till  
it pleases her lord and master to try to
 stagger home1 and then to guide his    
clumsy steps to the threshold4 ,of      
course there are wives who become as bad
 as their husbands1 who drink1 or do    
worse1 and neglect their homes1 but they
 are the exception4 ,as a rule1 the     
woman1 once married1 does her best to   
keep her home together4  ,the wife of   
the labourer does not get her shins     
smashed with heavy kicks from hobnailed 
boots1 such as the ,lancashire ruffians 
administer2 but1 although serious       
wife-beating cases are infrequent1 there

 are few women who escape an occasional 
blow from their husbands4 ,most of them 
get a moderate amount of thrashing in   
the course of their lives1 and take it  
much as they take the hardships and     
poverty of their condition1 as a        
necessity not to be escaped4 ,the       
labourer is not downright brutal to his 
wife1 but he certainly thinks he has a  
right to chastise her when she          
displeases him4 ,once in authority1 the 
labourer is stern1 hard1 and            
inconsiderate of the feelings of others1
 and he is in authority in his own      
cottage4 ,the wife has been accustomed  
to such treatment more or less from her 
childhood2 she has been slapped and     
banged about at home1 and therefore     
thinks comparatively little of a blow   
from her husband's hand4 ,the man does  
not mean it so brutally as it appears to
 outsiders4 ,this semi-wife-beating is  
only too prevalent4  ,does the incessant
 labour undergone by an agricultural    
woman result in ill effects to her      

physical frame8 ,the day-work in the    
fields1 the haymaking1 and such labour  
as is paid for by the day and not by the
 piece1 cannot do any injury1 for it is 
light1 and the hours are short4 ,in some
 districts the women do not come before 
half-past eight1 and leave a little     
after four1 and they have a long hour   
out for dinner4 ,it is the piece-work of
 the corn-harvest that tries the frame1 
when work begins at sunrise or shortly  
after1 and lasts till the latest        
twilight1 and when it is work1 real     
muscular strain4 ,this cannot but leave 
its mark4 ,otherwise the field is not   
injurious to the woman so far as the    
labour is concerned1 and the exposure is
 not so great as has been supposed1     
because women are scarcely ever expected
 to work in wet weather4 ,the worst of  
the exposure is probably endured upon   
the arable fields in the bitter winds of
 spring2 but this does not last very    
long4 ,in what way field-labour is      
degrading to the women it is difficult  

to understand4 ,the only work of a      
disgusting nature now performed by women
 is the beating of clots on             
pasture-land1 and that is quickly over4 
,after all1 there is nothing so very    
dreadful in it4 ,stone-picking1         
couch-clearing1 hoeing1 haymaking1      
reaping1 certainly none of these are in 
any way disgusting operations4 ,women do
 not attend to cattle now4 ,as to the   
immorality1 undoubtedly a great deal of 
what is coarse and rude does pass upon  
the hayfield1 but the hayfield does not 
originate it2 if the same men and women 
met elsewhere1 the same jokes would be  
uttered and conduct indulged in4 ,the   
position of agricultural women is a     
painful one to contemplate1 and their   
lives full of hardships2 but            
field-labour cannot be fairly accused as
 the cause of the evils they endure4    
,their strength is overstrained in the  
cornfield2 but what can you do8 ,it is  
their gold-mine--their one grand        
opportunity of getting a little money4  

,it would be cruel kindness to deny it  
to them2 and1 in point of fact1 except  
by interfering with the liberty of the  
subject1 it would be impossible to      
prevent them4 ,farm-labour is certainly 
to be preferred to much of the work that
 women do in manufacturing districts4   
,at least there is no overcrowding2     
there is plenty of fresh air1 and the   
woman who works in the field looks quite
 as robust and healthy as her sister    
sitting all day in a confined factory4  
,it used to be common to see women      
dressed in a kind of smock-frock2 this  
was in the days when they milked1 and it
 is still occasionally worn4 ,now they  
generally wear linsey dresses in the    
winter1 and cotton in the summer1 at    
prices from #d-a_/b;d4 to #f;d4 per     
yard4 ,they wear boots nailed and tipped
 much like the men1 but not so heavy1   
and in rough weather corduroy gaiters4  
,their cooking is rude and detestable to
 any one else's ideas2 but it appears   
exactly suited to the coarse tastes and 

hearty appetite of their husbands4      
,being uneducated1 and a large          
proportion unable to read1 their chief  
intellectual amusement consists in      
tittle-tattle and gossip4 ,they are     
generally inclined to be religious after
 a fashion1 and frequent the chapel or  
the cottage in which the itinerant      
preacher holds forth4 ,in summer this   
preacher will mount upon a waggon placed
 in a field by the roadside1 and draw a 
large audience1 chiefly women1 who      
loudly respond and groan and mutter     
after the most approved manner4 ,now and
 then an elderly woman may be found who 
is considered to have a gift of         
preaching1 and holds forth at great     
length1 quoting ,scripture right and    
left4 ,the exhibitions of emotion on the
 part of the women at such meetings and 
in the services in their cottages are   
not pleasant to listen to1 but the      
impression left on the mind is that they
 are in earnest4  ,they are a charitable
 race1 and eager to help each other4    

,they will watch by the bedsides of     
their sick neighbours1 divide the loaf  
of bread1 look after the children and   
trudge weary miles to the town for      
medicine4 ,on the other hand1 they are  
almost childlike in imbibing jealousies 
and hatreds1 and unsparing in abuse and 
imputation towards a supposed enemy4    
,they are bolder in speech than their   
husbands to those who occupy higher     
places in the social scale4 ,it cannot  
be said that agricultural women are     
handsome4 ,in childhood they are too    
often thin and stunted2 later they shoot
 up and grow taller1 but remain thin and
 bony till from eighteen to twenty1 when
 they get plumper1 and then is their    
period of prettiness1 if at all4 ,bright
 eyes1 clear complexions1 and glossy    
hair form their attractions1 for their  
features are scarcely ever good4 ,the   
brief beauty of the prime of youth      
speedily fades1 and at five-and-twenty  
the agricultural woman1 especially if   
married1 is pale or else burnt by the   

sun to a brown1 with flat chest and     
rounded shoulders4 ,it is rare indeed to
 see a woman with any pretensions to    
what is called a figure4 ,it would be   
wonderful if there were1 for much of the
 labour induces a stooping position1 and
 they are never taught when young to sit
 upright4  ,growing plainer and plainer 
as years go by1 the elder women are     
wrinkled and worn-looking1 and have     
contracted a perpetual stoop4 ,many live
 to a great age4 ,in small parishes it  
is common to find a large number of     
women of seventy and eighty1 and there  
are few cottages which do not contain an
 old woman4 ,this is hardly a result in 
accordance with the labour they have    
undergone4 ,the explanation probably is 
that1 continued through a series of     
generations1 it has produced a strength 
and stamina which can survive almost    
anything4 ,certain it is that young     
couples about to marry often experience 
much difficulty in finding cottages1    
because they are occupied by extremely  

aged pairs2 and landlords1 anxious to   
tear down and remove old cottages       
tumbling to pieces1 are restrained from 
doing so out of regard for the aged     
tenants1 who cling with a species of    
superstitious tenderness to the         
crumbling walls and decayed thatch4 ,at 
this age1 at seventy-five or even       
eighty1 the agricultural woman retains a
 strength of body astonishing to a      
town-bred woman4 ,she will walk eight or
 ten miles1 without apparent fatigue1 to
 and from the nearest town for her      
provisions4 ,she will almost to the last
 carry her prong out into the hayfield1 
and do a little work in some corner1 and
 bear her part in the gleaning after the
 harvest4 ,she lives almost entirely    
upon weak tea and bread sops4 ,her      
mental powers continue nearly           
unimpaired1 and her eyes are still good1
 though her teeth have long gone4 ,she  
will laugh over memories of practical   
jokes played at harvest-homes           
half-a-century ago2 and slowly spells   

over the service in a prayer-book which 
asks blessings upon a king instead of a 
queen4 ,she often keeps the village     
confectioner's shop--i4e41 a few bottles
 of sweets and jumbles in the window1   
side by side with twists of whipcord for
 the ploughboys and carters1 and perhaps
 has a license for tobacco and snuff4   
,but long before this age they have in  
most cases been kept by the parish4 ,the
 farmers who form the guardians know    
well the history of the poor of their   
parishes1 and remembering the long years
 of hard work1 always allow as liberal a
 relief as they can to these women4 ,out
 of all their many children and         
grandchildren1 it may happen that one   
has got on fairly well in life1 has a   
business as a blacksmith1 or tinker1 or 
carpenter1 and gives her a shilling or  
so a week2 and a shilling goes a long   
way with a woman who lives upon tea and 
sops4 ,in their latter days these women 
resemble the pollard oaks1 which linger 
on year after year1 and finally fall    

from sheer decay4     ,,an ,,english    
,,homestead4   ,it is easy to pass along
 a country road without observing half  
of the farmhouses1 so many being        
situated at a distance from the highway1
 and others hidden by the thick hedges  
and the foliage of the trees4 ,this is  
especially the case in districts chiefly
 occupied in pasture farming1 meadow    
land being usually found along the banks
 of rivers1 on broad level plains1 or in
 slightly undulating prairie-like       
country4 ,a splendid belt of meadows    
often runs at the base of the chalk     
hills1 where the springs break out2 and 
it is here that some of the most        
beautiful pastoral scenery is to be     
found4  ,by the side of the highway     
there are gates at intervals in the     
close-cropped hedge--kept close-cropped 
by the strict orders of the road        
surveyors--giving access to the green   
fields through which runs a             
waggon-track1 apparently losing itself  
in the grass4 ,this track will take the 

explorer to a farmhouse4 ,it is not     
altogether pleasant to drive over in a  
spring trap1 as the wheels jolt in the  
hard ruts1 and the springs are shaken in
 the deep furrows1 the vehicle going up 
and down like a boat upon the waves4    
,why there should be such furrows in a  
meadow is a question that naturally     
arises in the mind4 ,whether it be mown 
with the scythe or the mowing-machine1  
it is of advantage to have the surface  
of the field as nearly as possible      
level2 and it is therefore most probable
 that these deep furrows had their      
origin at a period when a different     
state of things prevailed1 when the     
farmer strove to grow as much wheat as  
possible1 and devoted every acre that he
 dared break up to the plough4 ,many of 
these fields were ill adapted for the   
growth of corn1 the soil unsuitable and 
liable to be partially flooded2         
consequently as soon as the market was  
opened1 and the price of wheat declined1
 so that rapid fortunes could no longer 

be made by it1 the fields were allowed  
to return to their natural condition4   
,no trouble was taken to relevel the    
land1 and the furrows remain silent     
witnesses to the past4 ,they are useful 
as drains it is true2 but1 being so     
broad1 the water only passes off slowly 
and encourages the rough grass and      
bull-polls to spring up1 which are as   
uneatable by cattle as the ,australian  
spinifex4  ,the waggon-track is not     
altogether creditable to the farmer1 who
 would1 one would have thought1 have had
 a good road up to his house at all     
events4 ,it is very wide1 and in damp   
weather every one who drives along it   
goes further and further out into the   
grass to find a firm spot1 till as much 
space is rendered barren as by one of   
the great hedges1 now so abominated4    
,the expense of laying down stone is    
considerable in some localities where   
the geological formation does not afford
 quarries2 yet even then there is a     
plan1 simple in itself1 but rarely      

resorted to1 by which a great saving in 
outlay may be effected4 ,any one who    
will look at a cart-track will see that 
there are three parallel marks left by  
the passage of the cart upon the ground4
 ,the two outside ruts are caused by the
 wheels1 and between these is a third   
beaten in by the hoofs of the horse4    
,the plan consists in placing stone1    
broken up small1 not across the whole   
width of the track1 but in these three  
ruts only2 for it is in these ruts alone
 that the wear takes place1 and1 if the 
ground were firm there1 no necessity    
would exist to go farther into the      
field4 ,to be thoroughly successful1 a  
trench1 say six or eight inches wide1   
and about as deep1 should be cut in the 
place of each rut1 and these trenches   
macadamised4 ,grass grows freely in the 
narrow green strips between the ruts1   
and the track has something of the      
appearance of a railroad4 ,it is        
astonishing how long these metals1 as it
 were1 will last1 when once well put    

down2 and the track has a neat1         
effective look4 ,the foot-passenger is  
as much benefited as the tenant of the  
field4 ,in wet weather he walks upon the
 macadamised strip dryshod1 and in      
summer upon either of the grass strips1 
easily and comfortably1 without going   
out into the mowing-grass to have the   
pleasure of turf under his feet4  ,these
 deep furrows are also awkward to cross 
with heavy loads of hay or straw1 and it
 requires much skill to build a load    
able to withstand the severe jolting and
 lurching4 ,some of the worst are often 
filled up with a couple of large faggots
 in the harvest season4 ,these tracks   
run by the side of the hedge1 and the   
ditches are crossed by bridges or       
drocks4 ,the last gate opens into a     
small field surrounded with a high thick
 hawthorn hedge1 itself a thing of      
beauty in ,may and ,june1 first with the
 ,may blossom and afterwards with the   
delicate-tinted dog or wild roses4 ,a   
spreading ash-tree stands on either side

 of the gateway1 from which on ,king    
,charles's day the ploughboys carefully 
select small branches1 those with the   
leaves evenly arranged1 instead of odd  
numbers1 to place in their hats4 ,tall  
elm-trees grow close together in the    
hedge and upon the shore of the ditch1  
enclosing the place in a high wall of   
foliage4 ,in the branches are the rooks'
 nests1 built of small twigs apparently 
thrown together1 and yet so firmly      
intertwined as to stand the swaying of  
the tree-tops in the rough blasts of    
winter4 ,in the spring the rook builds a
 second nest on the floor of the old    
one1 and this continues till five or six
 successive layers may be traced2 and   
when at last some ruder tempest strews  
the grass with its ruin1 there is enough
 wood to fill a bushel basket4  ,the    
dovecot is fixed in the fork of one of  
the larger elms1 where the trunk divides
 into huge boughs1 each the size of a   
tree2 and in the long rank grass near   
the hedge the backs of a black          

,berkshire pig or two may be seen like  
porpoises rolling in the green sea4     
,here and there an ancient apple-tree1  
bent down and bowed to the ground with  
age1 offers a mossy1 shady seat upon one
 of its branches which has returned to  
the earth from which it sprung4 ,some   
wooden posts grown green and            
lichen-covered1 standing at regular     
intervals1 show where the housewife     
dries her linen4 ,right before the very 
door a great horse-chestnut tree rears  
itself in all the beauty of its         
thousands of blossoms1 hiding half the  
house4 ,a small patch of ground in front
 is railed in with wooden palings to    
keep out the pigs1 and poultry1 and     
dogs--for almost every visitor brings   
with him one or more dogs--and in this  
narrow garden grow velvety wall-flowers1
 cloves1 pinks1 shrubs of lavender1 and 
a few herbs which are useful for        
seasoning4 ,the house is built of brick2
 but the colour is toned down by age1   
and against the wall a pear-tree is     

trained upon one side1 and upon the     
other a cherry-tree1 so that at certain 
seasons one may rise in the morning and 
gather the fresh fruits from the window4
 ,the lower windows were once latticed2 
but the old frames have been replaced   
with the sash1 which if not so          
picturesque1 affords more light1 and    
most old farmhouses are deficient in the
 supply of light4 ,the upper windows    
remain latticed still4 ,the red tiles of
 the roof are dull with lichen and the  
beating of the weather2 and the chimney1
 if looked at closely1 is full of tiny  
holes--it is where the leaden pellets   
from guns fired at the mischievous      
starlings have struck the bricks4 ,a    
pair of doves perched upon the roof-tree
 coo amorously to each other1 and a thin
 streak of blue smoke rises into the    
still air4  ,the door is ajar1 or wide  
open4 ,there is no fear here of thieves1
 or street-boys throwing stones into the
 hall4 ,excepting in rain or rough wind1
 and at night1 that front door will be  

open almost all the summer long4 ,when  
shut at night it is fastened with a     
wooden bar passing across the whole     
width of the door1 and fitting into iron
 staples on each post--a simple         
contrivance1 but very strong and not    
easily tampered with4 ,many of the      
interior doors still open with the old  
thumb-latch2 but the piece of           
shoe-string to pull and lift it is now  
relegated to the cottages1 and fast     
disappearing even there before          
brass-handled locks4 ,this house is not 
old enough to possess the nail-studded  
door of solid oak and broad stone-built 
porch of some farmhouses still          
occasionally to be found1 and which date
 from the sixteenth century4 ,the porch 
here simply projects about two feet1 and
 is supported by trellis-work1 up which 
the honeysuckle has been trained4 ,a    
path of stone slabs leads from the      
palings up to the threshold1 and the    
hall within is paved with similar flags4
 ,the staircase is opposite the doorway1

 narrow1 and guiltless of oilcloth or   
carpeting2 and with reason1 for the tips
 and nails of the heavy boots which     
tramp up and down it would speedily wear
 carpets into rags4 ,there is a door at 
the bottom of the staircase closed at   
night4 ,by the side of the staircase is 
a doorway which leads into the          
dairy--two steps lower than the front of
 the house4  ,the sitting-room is on the
 left of the hall1 and the floor is of  
the same cold stone flags1 which in damp
 weather become wet and slimy4 ,these   
flags1 in fact1 act as a barometer1 and 
foretell rain with great accuracy1 as it
 were perspiring with latent moisture at
 its approach4 ,the chimney was         
originally constructed for a wood fire  
upon the hearth1 and of enormous size1  
so that several sides of bacon could be 
hung up inside to be smoke-dried4 ,the  
fireplace was very broad1 so that huge  
logs could be thrown at once upon the   
fire with very little trouble of sawing 
them short4 ,since coal has come into   

general use1 and wood grown scarce1 the 
fireplace has been partly built up and  
an iron grate inserted1 which looks out 
of place in so large a cavity4 ,the     
curious fire-dogs1 upon which the wood  
was thrown1 may still1 perhaps1 be found
 upstairs in some corner of the         
lumber-room4 ,on the mantelpiece are    
still preserved1 well polished and      
bright1 the several pieces of the jack  
or cooking apparatus2 and a pair of     
great brazen candlesticks ornament it at
 each end4 ,a leaden or latten          
tobacco-bowl1 a brazen pestle and       
mortar1 and half-a-dozen odd figures in 
china1 are also scattered upon it1      
surmounted by a narrow looking-glass4   
,in one corner stands an old eight-day  
clock with a single hour hand--minute   
hands being a modern improvement2 but it
 is silent1 and its duties are performed
 by an ,american timepiece supported    
upon a bracket against the wall4        
,upstairs1 however1 upon the landing1 a 
similar ancient piece of clockmaking    

still ticks solemn and slow with a      
ponderous melancholy4 ,the centre of the
 room is occupied with an oaken table1  
solid and enduring1 but inconvenient to 
sit at2 and upon each side of the       
fireplace is a stiff-backed arm-chair4  
,a ledge under the window forms a       
pleasant seat in summer4 ,before the    
fireplace is a rug1 the favourite resort
 of the spaniels and cats4 ,the rest of 
the floor used to be bare2 but of late  
years a square of cocoanut matting has  
been laid down4 ,a cumbrous piece of    
furniture takes up almost half of one   
side--not known in modern manufactories4
 ,it is of oak1 rudely polished1 and    
inlaid with brass4 ,at the bottom are   
great deep drawers1 pulled open with    
brass rings ornamented with dogs' heads4
 ,in these drawers are kept             
cow-drenches--bottles of oils for the   
wounds which cattle sometimes get from  
nails or kicks2 dog-whips and           
pruning-knives2 a shot-belt and         
powder-flask2 an old horse-pistol2 a    

dozen odd stones or fossils picked up   
upon the farm and kept as curiosities2  
twenty or thirty old almanacs1 and a    
file of the county paper for forty      
years2 and a hundred similar odds and   
ends4 ,above the drawers comes a desk   
with a few pigeon-holes2 a desk little  
used1 for the farmer is less of a       
literary turn than almost any other     
class4 ,the pigeon-holes are stuffed    
full of old papers1 recipes for cattle  
medicines1 and1 perhaps1 a book of      
divinity or sermons printed in the days 
of ,charles ,,ii41 leather-covered and  
worm-eaten4 ,still higher are a pair of 
cupboards where china1 the tea-set1 and 
the sugar and groceries in immediate use
 are kept4 ,on the top1 which is three  
or four inches under the ceiling1 are   
two or three small brown-paper parcels  
of grass seeds1 and a variety of        
nondescript articles4 ,opposite1 on the 
other wall1 and close above the         
chimneypiece1 so as to be kept dry1 is  
the gun-rack with two double-barrels1 a 

long single-barrel duck gun1 and a      
cavalry sabre1 worn once a year by a son
 of the house who goes out to training  
in the yeomanry4  ,there are a few      
pictures1 not of a high class--three or 
four prints depicting ,dick ,turpin's   
ride to ,york1 and a coloured sketch of 
some steeplechase winner1 or a copy of a
 well-known engraving representing a    
feat accomplished many years ago at a   
farm4 ,a flock of sheep were shorn1 the 
wool carded and spun1 and a coat made of
 it1 and worn by the flockowner1 and all
 in one day4 ,from this room a door     
opens into the cellar and pantry1 partly
 underground1 and reached by three or   
four steps4  ,on the other side of the  
hall is the parlour1 which was          
originally floored1 like the            
sitting-room1 with stone flags1 since   
taken up and replaced by boards4 ,this  
is carpeted1 and contains a comfortable 
old-fashioned sofa1 horse-hair chairs1  
and upon the side tables may1 perhaps1  
be found a few specimens of valuable old

 china1 made to do duty as flower-vases1
 and filled with roses4 ,the room has a 
fresh1 sweet smell from the open window 
and the flowers4 ,it tempts almost      
irresistibly to repose in the noontide  
heat of a summer's day4  ,upstairs there
 are two fair-sized bedrooms1 furnished 
with four-post wooden bedsteads4 ,the   
second flight of stairs1 going up to the
 attic1 has also a door at the foot4    
,this house is built upon a simple but  
effective design1 well calculated for   
the purposes to be served4 ,it resembles
 two houses placed not end to end1 as in
 a block1 but side by side1 and each    
part has a separate roof4 ,under the    
front roof1 which is somewhat higher    
than the other1 are the living-rooms of 
the family3 sitting-room1 parlour1      
bedroom1 and attics1 or servants'       
bedrooms4 ,under the lower roof are the 
offices1 the cheese-loft1 dairy1        
kitchen1 cellar1 and wood-house4        
,numerous doors give easy communication 
on each floor1 so that the house        

consists of two distinct portions1 and  
the business is kept quite apart from   
the living rooms1 and yet close to them4
 ,this is1 perhaps1 the most convenient 
manner in which a dairy farmhouse can be
 built2 and the plan was undoubtedly the
 result of experience4 ,of course1 in   
dairy-farming upon a very extended      
scale1 or as a gentlemanly amusement1 it
 would be preferable to have the offices
 entirely apart1 and at some distance   
from the dwelling-house4 ,these remarks 
apply to an ordinary farm of moderate   
size4  ,leaving the hall by the door at 
the side of the staircase1 two steps    
descend into the dairy1 which is almost 
invariably floored with stone flags1    
even in localities where brick is used  
for the flooring of the sitting-room4   
,the great object aimed at in the       
construction of the dairy was coolness1 
and freedom from dust as much as        
possible4 ,the stone flags ensure a cool
 floor2 and the windows always open to  
the north1 so that neither the summer   

sunshine nor the warm southern winds can
 injuriously affect the produce4 ,it is 
a long open room1 whitewashed1 in the   
centre of which stands the cheese-tub1  
until lately invariably made of wood1   
but now frequently of tin1 this material
 taking much less trouble to keep clean4
 ,the cheese-tub is large enough for a  
,roman lady's bath of milk4 ,against one
 wall are the whey-leads--shallow1 long1
 and broad vessels of wood1 lined with  
lead1 supported two or three feet above 
the floor1 so that buckets can be placed
 underneath4 ,in these leads the whey is
 kept1 and drawn off by pulling up a    
wooden plug4 ,under the leads--as out of
 the way--are some of the great         
milk-pans into which the milk is poured4
 ,pussy sometimes dips her nose into    
these1 and whitens her whiskers with    
cream4 ,at one end of the room is the   
cheese-press4 ,the ancient press1 with  
its complicated arrangement of long iron
 levers weighted at the end something   
like a steelyard1 and drawn up by cords 

and pulleys1 has been taken down and    
lies discarded in the lumber-room4 ,the 
pressure in the more modern machine is  
obtained from a screw4 ,the rennet-vat  
is perhaps hidden behind the press1 and 
there are piles of the cheese-moulds or 
vats beside it1 into which the curd is  
placed when fit to be compressed into   
the proper shape and consistency4 ,all  
the utensils here are polished1 and     
clean to the last degree2 without       
extreme cleanliness success in cheese or
 butter making cannot be achieved4 ,the 
windows are devoid of glass2 they are   
really wind doors1 closed when          
necessary1 with a shutter on hinges like
 a cupboard door4 ,cats and birds are   
prevented from entering by means of wire
 screens--like a coarse netting of      
wire--and an upright iron bar keeps out 
more dangerous thieves4 ,there is a     
copper for scalding milk4 ,when in good 
order there is scarcely any odour in a  
dairy1 notwithstanding the decidedly    
strong smell of some of the materials   

employed3 free egress of air and perfect
 cleanliness takes off all but the      
faintest astringent flavour4 ,in summer 
it is often the custom of dairymaids to 
leave buckets full of water standing    
under the leads or elsewhere out of the 
way1 or a milk-pan is left with water in
 it1 to purify the atmosphere4 ,water1  
it is well known1 has a remarkable power
 of preventing the air from going dead  
as it were4 ,a model dairy should have a
 small fountain in some convenient      
position1 with a jet constantly playing4
 ,the state of the atmosphere has the   
most powerful effect upon the contents  
of the dairy1 especially during times of
 electrical tension4  ,to the right of  
the dairy is the brewhouse1 now rarely  
used for the purpose implied in its     
name1 though the tubs1 and coolers1 and 
other plant necessary for the process   
are still preserved4 ,here there is a   
large copper also2 and the oven often   
opens on to the brewhouse4 ,in this     
place the men have their meals4 ,next to

 it is the wood-house1 used for the     
storage of the wood which is required   
for immediate use1 and must therefore be
 dry2 and beyond that the kitchen1 where
 the fire is still upon the hearth1     
though coal is mixed with the logs and  
faggots4 ,along the whole length of this
 side of the house there is a paved or  
pitched courtyard enclosed by a low     
brick wall1 with one or two gates       
opening upon the paths which lead to the
 rickyards and the stalls4 ,the         
buttermilk and refuse from the dairy    
runs by a channel cut in the stone      
across the court into a vault or well   
sunk in the ground1 from whence it is   
dipped for the pigs4 ,the vault is      
closed at the mouth by a heavy wooden   
lid4 ,there is a well and pump for water
 here2 sometimes with a windlass1 when  
the well is deep4 ,if the water be low  
or out of condition1 it is fetched in   
yokes from the nearest running stream4  
,the acid or eating power of the        
buttermilk1 c41 may be noted in the     

stones1 which in many places are scooped
 or hollowed out4 ,a portion of the     
court is roofed in1 and is called the   
skilling4 ,it is merely covered in      
without walls1 the roof supported upon  
oaken posts4 ,under this the buckets are
 placed to dry after being cleaned1 and 
here the churn may often be seen4 ,a    
separate staircase1 rising from the     
dairy1 gives access to the cheese-loft4 
,it is an immense apartment1 reaching   
from one end of the house to the other1 
and as lofty as the roof will permit1   
for it is not ceiled4 ,the windows are  
like those of the dairy4 ,down the      
centre are long double shelves sustained
 upon strong upright beams1 tier upon   
tier from the floor as high as the arms 
can conveniently reach4 ,upon these     
shelves the cheese is stored1 each lying
 upon its side2 and1 as no two cheeses  
are placed one upon the other until     
quite ready for eating1 a ton or two    
occupies a considerable space while in  
process of drying4 ,they are also placed

 in rows upon the floor1 which is made  
exceptionally strong1 and supported upon
 great beams to bear the weight4 ,the   
scales used to be hung from a beam      
overhead1 and consisted of an iron bar1 
at each end of which a square board was 
slung with ropes--one board to pile up  
the cheese on1 and the other for the    
counterpoise of weights4 ,these rude and
 primitive scales are now generally     
superseded by modern and more accurate  
instruments1 weighing to a much smaller 
fraction4 ,stone half-hundredweights and
 stone quarters were in common use not  
long since4 ,a cheese-loft1 when full1  
is a noble sight of its kind1 and       
represents no little labour and skill4  
,when sold1 the cheese is carefully     
packed in the cart with straw to prevent
 its being injured4 ,the oil or grease  
from the cheese gradually works its way 
into the shelves and floor1 and even    
into the staircase1 till the woodwork   
seems saturated with it4 ,rats and mice 
are the pests of the loft2 and so great 

is their passion for cheese that neither
 cats1 traps1 nor poison can wholly     
repress these invaders1 against whom    
unceasing war is waged4 ,the            
starlings--who1 if the roof be of       
thatch1 as it is in many farmhouses1    
make their nests in it--occasionally    
carry their holes right through1 and are
 unmercifully exterminated when they    
venture within reach1 or they would     
quickly let the rain and the daylight   
in4  ,as the dairy and offices face the 
north1 so the front of the house--the   
portion used for domestic purposes--has 
a southern aspect1 which experience has 
proved to be healthy4 ,but at the same  
time1 despite its compactness and       
general convenience1 there are many     
defects in the building--defects chiefly
 of a sanitary character4 ,it is very   
doubtful if there are any drains at all4
 ,even though the soil be naturally dry1
 the ground floor is almost always cold 
and damp4 ,the stone flags are          
themselves cold enough1 and are often   

placed upon the bare earth4 ,the        
threshold is on a level with the ground 
outside1 and sometimes a step lower1 and
 in wet weather the water penetrates to 
the hall4 ,there is another             
disadvantage4 ,if the door be left open1
 which it usually is1 frogs1 toads1 and 
creeping things generally1 sometimes    
make their way in1 though ruthlessly    
swept out again2 and an occasional snake
 from the long grass at the very door is
 an unpleasant1 though perfectly        
harmless visitor4 ,the floor should be  
raised a foot or so above the level of  
the earth1 and some provision made      
against the damp by a layer of concrete 
or something of the kind4 ,if not1 even 
if boards be substituted for the flags1 
they will soon decay4 ,it often happens 
that farmhouses upon meadow land are    
situated on low ground1 which in winter 
is saturated with water which stands in 
the furrows1 and makes the footpaths    
leading to the house impassable except  
to water-tight boots4 ,this must1 and   

undoubtedly does affect the health of   
the inmates1 and hence probably the     
prevalence of rheumatism4 ,the site upon
 which the house stands should be so    
drained as to carry off the water4 ,some
 soils contract to an appreciable extent
 in a continuance of drought1 and expand
 in an equal degree with wet--a fact    
apparent to any one who walks across a  
field where the soil is clay1 in a dry  
time1 when the deep1 wide cracks cannot 
be overlooked4 ,alternate swelling and  
contraction of the earth under the      
foundations of a house produce a partial
 dislocation of the brickwork1 and hence
 it is common enough to see cracks      
running up the walls4 ,had the site been
 properly drained1 and the earth        
consequently always dry1 this would not 
have happened2 and it is a matter of    
consideration for the landlord1 who in  
time may find it necessary to shore up a
 wall with a buttress4 ,the great       
difference in the temperature of a      
drained soil and an undrained one has   

often been observed1 amounting sometimes
 to as much as twenty degrees--a serious
 matter where health is concerned4 ,a   
foolish custom was observed in the      
building of many old farmhouses1 i4e41  
of carrying beams of wood across the    
chimney--a practice that has led to     
disastrous fires4 ,the soot accumulates4
 ,these huge cavernous chimneys are     
rarely swept1 and at last catch alight  
and smoulder for many days3 presently   
fire breaks out in the middle of a room 
under which the beam passes4  ,houses   
erected in blocks or in towns do not    
encounter the full force of the storms  
of winter to the same degree as a       
solitary farmhouse1 standing a quarter  
or half-a-mile from any other dwelling4 
,this is the reason why the old farmers 
planted elm-trees and encouraged the    
growth of thick hawthorn hedges close to
 the homestead4 ,the north-east and the 
south-west are the quarters from whence 
most is to be dreaded3 the north-east   
for the bitter wind which sweeps along  

and grows colder from the damp1 wet     
meadows it passes over2 and the         
south-west for the driving rain1 lasting
 sometimes for days and weeks together4 
,trees and hedges break the force of the
 gales1 and in summer shelter from the  
glaring sun4  ,the architectural        
arrangement of the farmhouse just       
described gives almost perfect privacy4 
,except visitors1 no one comes to the   
front door or passes unpleasantly close 
to the windows4 ,labourers and others   
all go to the courtyard at the back4    
,the other plans upon which farmsteads  
are built are far from affording similar
 privacy4 ,there are some which1 in     
fact1 are nothing but an enlarged and   
somewhat elongated cottage1 with the    
dwelling-rooms at one end and the dairy 
and offices at the other1 and the       
bedrooms over both4 ,everybody and      
everything brought to or taken from the 
place has to pass before the            
dwelling-room windows--a most unpleasant
 arrangement4 ,another style is square1 

with low stone walls whitewashed1 and   
thatched roof of immense height4        
,against it is a lean-to1 the eaves of  
the roof of which are hardly three feet 
from the ground4 ,so high-pitched a roof
 necessitates the employment of a great 
amount of woodwork1 and the upper rooms 
have sloping ceilings4 ,they may look   
picturesque from a distance1 but are    
inconvenient and uncouth within1 and    
admirably calculated for burning4 ,a    
somewhat superior description is built  
in the shape of a carpenter's square4   
,the dwelling-rooms form1 as it were1   
one house1 and the offices1 dairy and   
cheese-loft are added on at one end at  
right angles4 ,the courtyard is in the  
triangular space between4 ,for some     
things this is a convenient arrangement2
 but there still remains the            
disagreeableness of the noise1 and1 at  
times1 strong odours from the courtyard 
under the windows of the dwelling-house4
 ,nearly all farmsteads have awkwardly  
low ceilings1 which in a town would     

cause a close atmosphere1 but are not so
 injurious in the open country1 with    
doors constantly ajar4 ,in erecting a   
modern house this defect would1 of      
course1 be avoided4 ,the great thickness
 of the walls is sometimes a deception2 
for in pulling down old buildings it is 
occasionally found that the interior of 
the wall is nothing but loose broken    
stones and bricks enclosed or rammed in 
between two walls4 ,the staircases are  
generally one of the worst features of  
the old houses1 being between a wall and
 a partition--narrow1 dark1 steep1 and  
awkwardly placed1 and without windows or
 handrails4 ,these houses were obviously
 built for a people living much out of  
doors4     ,,john ,,smith',s ,,shanty4  
,he was standing in the ditch leaning   
heavily upon the long handle of his axe4
 ,it was a straight stick of ash1       
roughly shaved down to some sort of     
semblance of smoothness1 such as would  
have worked up an unpractised hand into 
a mass of blisters in ten minutes'      

usage1 but which glided easily through  
those horny palms1 leaving no mark of   
friction4 ,the continuous outdoor       
labour1 the beating of innumerable      
storms1 and the hard1 coarse fare1 had  
dried up all the original moisture of   
the hand1 till it was rough1 firm1 and  
cracked or chapped like a piece of wood 
exposed to the sun and weather4 ,the    
natural oil of the skin1 which gives to 
the hand its beautiful suppleness and   
delicate sense of touch1 was gone like  
the sap in the tree he was felling1 for 
it was early in the winter4 ,however the
 brow might perspire1 there was no      
dampness on the hand1 and the helve of  
the axe was scarcely harder and drier4  
,in order1 therefore1 that the grasp    
might be firm1 it was necessary to      
artificially wet the palms1 and hence   
that custom which so often disgusts     
lookers-on1 of spitting on the hands    
before commencing work4 ,this apparently
 gratuitous piece of dirtiness is in    
reality absolutely necessary4 ,men with 

hands in this state have hardly any     
feeling in them2 they find it difficult 
to pick up anything small1 as a pin--the
 fingers fumble over it2 and as for a   
pen1 they hold it like a hammer4 ,his   
chest was open to the north wind1 which 
whistled through the bare branches of   
the tall elm overhead as if they were   
the cordage of a ship1 and came in      
sudden blasts through the gaps in the   
hedge1 blowing his shirt back1 and      
exposing the immense breadth of bone1   
and rough dark skin tanned to a         
brown-red by the summer sun while       
mowing4 ,the neck rose from it short and
 thick like that of a bull1 and the head
 was round1 and covered with a crop of  
short grizzled hair not yet quite grey1 
but fast losing its original chestnut   
colour4 ,the features were fairly       
regular1 but coarse1 and the nose       
flattened4 ,an almost worn-out old hat  
thrown back on the head showed a low1   
broad1 wrinkled forehead4 ,the eyes were
 small and bleared1 set deep under      

shaggy eyebrows4 ,the corduroy trousers1
 yellow with clay and sand1 were        
shortened below the knee by leather     
straps like garters1 so as to exhibit   
the whole of the clumsy boots1 with     
soles like planks1 and shod with iron at
 heel and tip4 ,these boots weigh seven 
pounds the pair2 and in wet weather1    
with clay and dirt clinging to them1    
must reach nearly double that4  ,in     
spite of all the magnificent muscular   
development which this man possessed1   
there was nothing of the ,hercules about
 him4 ,the grace of strength was        
wanting1 the curved lines were lacking2 
all was gaunt1 angular1 and square4 ,the
 chest was broad enough1 but flat1 a    
framework of bones hidden by a rough    
hairy skin2 the breasts did not swell up
 like the rounded prominences of the    
antique statue4 ,the neck1 strong enough
 as it was to bear the weight of a sack 
of corn with ease1 was too short1 and   
too much a part1 as it were1 of the     
shoulders4 ,it did not rise up like a   

tower1 distinct in itself2 and the      
muscles on it1 as they moved1 produced  
hollow cavities distressing to the eye4 
,it was strength without beauty2 a      
mechanical kind of power1 like that of  
an engine1 working through straight     
lines and sharp angles4 ,there was too  
much of the machine1 and too little of  
the animal2 the lithe1 easy motion of   
the lion or the tiger was not there4    
,the impression conveyed was1 that such 
strength had been gained through a      
course of incessant exertion of the     
rudest kind1 unassisted by generous food
 and checked by unnatural exposure4     
,john ,smith heaved up his axe and      
struck at the great bulging roots of the
 elm1 from which he had cleared away the
 earth with his spade4 ,a heavy chip    
flew out with a dull thud on the sward4 
,the straight handle of the axe         
increased the labour of the work1 for in
 this curiously conservative country the
 ,american improvement of the double    
curved handle has not yet been adopted4 

,chip after chip fell in the ditch1 or  
went spinning out into the field4 ,the  
axe rose and fell with a slow1          
monotonous motion4 ,though there was    
immense strength in every blow1 there   
was no vigour in it4 ,suddenly1 while it
 was swinging in the air overhead1 there
 came the faint1 low echo of a distant  
railway whistle1 and the axe was dropped
 at once1 without even completing the   
blow4 ,that's the express1 he muttered1 
and began cleaning the dirt from his    
shoes4 ,the daily whistle of the express
 was the signal for luncheon4 ,hastily  
throwing on a slop hung on the bushes1  
and over that a coat1 he picked up a    
small bag1 and walked slowly off down   
the side of the hedge to where the      
highway road went by4 ,here he sat down1
 somewhat sheltered by a hawthorn bush1 
in the ditch1 facing the road1 and drew 
out his bread and cheese4  ,about a     
quarter of a loaf of bread1 or nearly1  
and one slice of cheese was this        
full-grown and powerful man's dinner    

that cold1 raw winter's day4 ,his drink 
was a pint of cold weak tea1 kept in a  
tin can1 for these men are moderate     
enough with liquor at their meals1      
whatever they may be at other times4 ,he
 held the bread in his left hand and the
 cheese was placed on it1 and kept in   
its place by the thumb1 the grimy dirt  
on which was shielded by a small piece  
of bread beneath it from the precious   
cheese4 ,his plate and dish was his     
broad palm1 his only implement a great  
jack-knife with a buck-horn handle4 ,he 
ate slowly1 thoughtfully1 deliberately2 
weighing each mouthful1 chewing the cud 
as it were4 ,all the man's motions were 
heavy and slow1 deadened as if clogged  
with a great load4 ,there was no life in
 him4 ,what little animation there was  
left had taken him to eat his dinner by 
the roadside--the instinct of           
sociality--that if possible he might    
exchange a word with some one passing4  
,in factories men work in gangs1 and    
hundreds are often within call of each  

other2 a rough joke or an occasional    
question can be put and answered2 there 
is a certain amount of sympathy1 a      
sensation of company and companionship4 
,but alone in the fields1 the human     
instinct of friendship is checked1 the  
man is driven back upon himself and his 
own narrow range of thought1 till the   
mind and heart grow dull1 and there only
 remains such a vague ill-defined want  
as carried ,john ,smith to the roadside 
that day4  ,he had finished his cheese  
and lit a short clay pipe1 and thrust   
his hands deep in his pockets1 when     
there was a rustling noise in the hedge 
a little farther down1 and a short man  
jumped out into the road--even jumping  
with his hands in his pockets4 ,he saw  
,smith directly and came towards him1   
and sat himself on a heap of flints used
 for mending the road4  ,what's thee at 
to-day8 asked ,john1 after a pause4     
,ditching1 said the other laconically1  
pushing out one foot by way of          
illustrating the fact4 ,it was covered  

with black mud far above the ankle1 and 
there were splashes of mud up to his    
waist--his hands1 as he proceeded to    
light his pipe1 were black1 too1 from   
the same cause4  ,thee's bin in main    
deep1 said ,john1 after a slow survey of
 the other's appearance4  ,the fellow   
stamped his boot on the ground1 and the 
slime and slush oozed out of it and     
formed a puddle4 ,that's pretty stuff to
 stand in for a man of sixty-four1 yent 
it1 ,john8 ,with a volubility and energy
 of speech little to be expected from   
his wizened appearance1 the hedger and  
ditcher entered into details of his job4
 ,he began work at six that morning with
 stiff legs and swollen feet1 and as he 
stood in the mingled mire and water1 the
 rheumatism came gradually on1 rising   
higher up his limbs from the ankles1 and
 growing sharper with every twinge1     
while the cold and bitter wind cut      
through his thin slop on his chest1     
which was not so strong as it used to   
be4 ,his arms got stiff with the labour 

of lifting up shovelful after shovelful 
of heavy mud to plaster the side of the 
ditch1 his feet turned cold as flints1  
and the sickly smell of the slime upset 
his stomach so that when he tried to eat
 his bread and cheese he could not4     
,through this speech ,john smoked       
steadily on1 till the other stopped and 
looked at him for sympathy4  ,well1     
,jim1 anyhow1 said ,smith1 thee hasn't  
got far to walk to the job2 and he      
pointed with the stem of his pipe to the
 low roof of a cottage just visible a   
few hundred yards distant4  ,ay1 and a  
place it be to live in1 that1 said ,jim4
 ,there were only two rooms1 he         
explained1 and both downstairs--no      
upstairs at all--and the first of these 
was so small he could reach across it1  
and the thatch had got so thin in one   
place that the rain came through4 ,the  
floor was only hard mud1 and the garden 
not big enough to grow a sack of        
potatoes1 while one wall of the house1  
which was only wattle and daub 7i4e41   

lath and plaster71 rose up from the very
 edge of a great stagnant pond4         
,overhead there was an elm1 from the    
branches of which in wet weather there  
was a perpetual drip1 drip on the       
thatch1 till the moss and grass grew on 
the roof in profusion4 ,all the sewage  
and drainage from the cottage ran into  
the pond1 over which at night there was 
almost always a thick damp mist1 which  
crept in through the crevices of the    
rotten walls1 and froze the blood in the
 sleepers' veins4 ,sometimes a flood    
came down1 and the pond rose and washed 
away the cabbages from the garden1      
leaving a deposit of gritty sand which  
killed all vegetation1 and they could   
only keep the water from coming indoors 
by making a small dam of clay across the
 doorway4 ,there was only a low hedge of
 elder between the cottage and a dirty  
lane2 and in the night1 especially if   
there happened to be a light burning1 it
 was common enough for a stone to come  
through the window1 flung by some       

half-drunken ploughboy4 ,a pretty place 
for a human being to live in3 and again 
he looked up into ,smith's face for     
comment4  ,thee built 'un thee-self1    
didn't 'ee8 said ,john1 in his slow way4
  ,ay1 that ,i did1 continued ,jim1 not 
seeing the drift of the remark4 ,he not 
only built it1 but he brought up        
nineteen children in it1 and fourteen of
 them lived to grow up1 all the         
offspring of one wife4 ,and a time she  
had of it1 too4 ,none of them ever fell 
in that pond1 though he often wished    
they would2 and they were all pretty    
healthy1 which was a bad thing1 because 
it made them hungry1 and if they had    
been ill the parish would have kept     
them4 ,all that he had done on #abs4 a  
week1 and he minded the time when it was
 only #is41 ay1 and even when it was    
#fs41 and 'twas better then than it was 
now with #aes4 ,that was before the     
,unions came about1 in the time of the  
old workhouses in every parish4 ,then   
the farmers used to find everybody a    

job4 ,every morning they had to go round
 from one farmer to the other1 and if   
there was no work then they went to the 
workhouse1 or sometimes to the          
vestry-room in the church1 where every  
man had a loaf of bread for every head  
there was in his family1 so that the    
more children he had the more loaves of 
bread1 which was a capital thing when   
the children were small4 ,he had known a
 man in those times sent seven miles    
with a wheelbarrow to fetch a barrow    
load of coal from the canal wharf1 and  
then have to wheel it back seven miles1 
and get one shilling for his day's work4
 ,still they were better times than     
these1 because the farmers for their own
 sake were forced to find the fellows   
something to do2 but now they did not   
care1 and it was a hard thing to find   
work1 especially when a man grew old1   
and stiff about the joints4 ,now the    
,boards of ,guardians would not give any
 relief unless the applicants were ill1 
or not able-bodied1 and even then they  

were often required to break stones1 and
 he was very much inclined to throw his 
spade in that old pond and go to the    
,union with the missis and all the lot  
for good4 ,he had the rheumatism bad    
enough4 ,it would serve them right4 ,he 
had worked nigh handy sixty years2 and  
all he had got by it he could put in his
 eye4 ,they ought to keep him now4 ,it  
was not half so good as the old times   
for all the talk2 then the children     
could bring home a bit of wood out of   
the hedges to boil the pot with1 but now
 they must not touch a stick1 or there  
was the law on them in a minute4 ,and   
then coal at the price it was4 ,why     
didn't his sons keep him8 ,where were   
they8 ,one was a soldier1 and another   
had gone to ,america1 and the third was 
married and had a hard job to keep      
himself1 and the fourth was gone nobody 
knew where4 ,as for the wenches1 they   
were no good in that way4 ,so he and his
 missis muddled on at home with three of
 the youngest4 ,and they could not let  

them alone even in that4 ,he did go into
 the ,union workhouse for a bit1 a while
 ago1 when the rheumatism was           
extraordinary bad1 but some of the      
guardians smelt out that he had a       
cottage of his own1 and it was against  
the law to relieve anybody that had     
property2 so he must pay back the relief
 as a loan or sell the cottage4 ,he was 
offered ,l#be for the place and garden1 
and he meant to have taken it1 but when 
they came to look into the writings it  
was not clear that he could sell it4 ,it
 was quit-rent land1 and although the   
landlord had not taken the rent for     
twenty years1 yet he had entered it in  
his book as paid 7out of good nature71  
and the lawyers said it could not be    
done4 ,but as they would not let him    
sell it1 he would not turn out1 not he4 
,there he would stop--just to spite     
them4 ,he knew that nook of his was     
wanted for cattle stalls on the new     
principle1 and very handy it would be   
with all that water close at hand1 but  

he had worked for sixty years1 and had  
had nineteen children there1 and he     
would not turn out4 ,not he4 ,the       
parson's missis and the squire's missis 
came the other day about that youngest  
boy of his4 ,they wanted to get him into
 some school up in ,london somewhere1   
but he remembered how the squire had    
served him just for picking up a dead   
rabbit that laid in his path one hard   
snow time4 ,six weeks in gaol because he
 could not pay the fine4 ,and the parson
 turned him out of his allotment because
 he saw him stagger a little in the road
 one night with the rheumatism4 ,it was 
a lie that he was drunk4 ,and suppose he
 was8 ,the parson had his wine1 he      
reckoned4 ,they should not have his boy4
 ,he rather hoped he would grow up a bad
 one1 and bother them well4 ,he minded  
when that sharp old ,miss ---- was      
always coming round with tracts and     
blankets1 like taking some straw to a   
lot of pigs1 and lecturing his missis   
about economy4 ,what a fuss she made1   

and scolded his wife as if she was a    
thief for having that fifteenth boy6    
,his missis turned on her at last1 and  
said1 ,lor1 miss1 that's all the        
pleasure me an' my old man got4 ,as for 
this talk about the labourers' ,unions1 
it was all very well for the young men2 
but it made it worse still for the old  
ones4 ,the farmers1 if they had to give 
such a price1 would have young men in   
full strength3 there was no chance at   
all for an old fellow of sixty-four with
 rheumatism4 ,some of them1 too1 were   
terribly offended--some of the old      
sort--and turned off the few pensioners 
they had kept on at odd jobs for years4 
,however1 he supposed he must get back  
to that ditch again4  ,this long oration
 was delivered not without a certain    
degree of power and effect1 showing that
 the man1 whatever his faults1 might    
with training have become rather a      
clever fellow4 ,the very way in which he
 contradicted himself1 and announced his
 intention of never doing that which a  

moment before he was determined on1 was 
not without an amount of oratorical art1
 since the turn in his view of the      
subject was led up to by a variety of   
reasons which were supposed to convince 
himself and his hearer at the same time4
 ,his remarks were all the more         
effective because there was an evident  
substratum of stern truth beneath them4 
,but they failed to make much impression
 on ,smith1 who saw his companion depart
 without a word4  ,the fact was1 that   
,smith was too well acquainted with the 
private life of the orator4 ,in his     
dull1 dim way1 he half recognised that  
the unfortunate old fellow's evils had  
been in great part of his own creating4 
,he knew that he was far from faultless4
 ,that poaching business--a very venial 
offence in a labourer's eyes--he knew   
had been a serious one1 a matter of some
 two-score pheasants and a desperate    
fight with a gang4 ,looking at it as    
property1 the squire had been merciful1 
pleading with the magistrates for a     

mitigated penalty4 ,the drunkenness was 
habitual4 ,in short1 they were a bad    
lot--there was a name attached to the   
whole family for thieving1 poaching1    
drinking1 and even worse4 ,yet still    
there were two points that did sink deep
 into ,smith's mind1 and made him pause 
several times that afternoon in his     
work4 ,the first was that long family of
 nineteen mouths1 with the father and   
mother making twenty-one4 ,what a number
 of sins1 in the rude logic of the      
struggle for existence1 that terrible   
fact glossed over6 ,who could           
blame--what labourer at least could     
blame--the ragged1 ill-clothed children 
for taking the dead wood from the hedges
 to warm their naked limbs8 ,what       
labourer could blame the father for     
taking the hares and rabbits running    
across his very path to fill that       
wretched hovel with savoury steam from  
the pot8 ,and further1 what labourer    
could blame the miserable old man for   
drowning his feelings1 and his sensation

 of cold and hunger1 in liquor8  ,the   
great evil of these things is that a    
fellow-feeling will arise with the      
wrong-doer1 till the original           
distinction between right and wrong is  
lost sight of entirely4 ,john ,smith had
 a family too4 ,the other point was the 
sixty years of labour and their fruit4  
,after two generations of hardest toil  
and rudest exposure1 still dependent    
upon the seasons even to permit him to  
work1 when that work could be obtained4 
,no rest1 no cosy fireside nook3 still  
the bitter wind1 and the half-frozen    
slime and slush rising above the ankle4 
,in an undefined way ,smith had been    
proud of his broad1 enormous strength1  
and rocklike hardihood4 ,he had felt a  
certain rude pleasure in opening his    
broad chest to the winter wind4 ,but now
 he involuntarily closed his shirt and  
buttoned it4 ,he did not feel so        
confident in his own power of meeting   
all the contingencies of the future4    
,thought without method and without     

logical sequence is apt to press heavily
 upon the uneducated mind4 ,it was thus 
that these reflections left a sensation 
of weight and discomfort upon ,smith1   
and it was in a worse humour than was   
common to his usually well-balanced     
organisation that he hid away his tools 
under the bushes as the evening grew too
 dark for work1 and slowly paced        
homewards4 ,he had some two miles to    
walk1 and he had long since begun to    
feel hungry4 ,plodding along in a heavy1
 uneven gait1 there overtook him a tall1
 raw young lad of eighteen or twenty1   
slouching forward with vast strides and 
whistling merrily4 ,the lad slackened   
his steps and joined company6  ,where   
bist thee working now1 then8 asked      
,smith4  ,he replied1 evidently in high 
spirits1 that he had that day got a job 
at the new railway that was making4 ,the
 wages were #ahs4 a week--#cs4 a        
day--and he had heard that as soon as   
the men grew to understand their work   
and to be a little skilful1 they could  

get #bds4 easily1 up by ,london4 ,the   
only drawback was the long walk to the  
work4 ,lodgings close at hand were very 
dear1 as also was food1 so dear as to   
lower the actual receipts to an         
equality1 if not below that of the      
agricultural labourer4 ,four miles every
 morning and every night was the price  
he paid for #ahs4 a week4  ,smith began 
in his slow1 dull way to reckon up his  
wages aloud against this4 ,first he had 
#acs4 a week for his daily work4 ,then  
he had #as4 extra for milking on        
,sundays1 and two good meals with beer  
on that day4 ,every week-day he had a   
pint of beer on finishing work4 ,the    
young navvy had to find his own liquor4 
,his cottage1 it was true1 was his own  
7that is1 he only paid a low quit-rent  
of #as4 a year for it71 so that that    
could not be reckoned in as part of his 
earnings1 as it could with many other   
men4 ,but the navvy's wages were the    
same all the year round1 while his in   
summer were often nearly double4 ,as a  

stalwart mower he could earn #bes4 a    
week and more1 as a haymaker #ahs41 and 
at harvesting perhaps #cjs4 ,if the     
season was good1 and there was a press  
for hands1 he would get more4 ,but1     
looking forward1 there was no prospect  
of rising higher in his trade1 of       
getting higher wages for more skilful   
work4 ,he could not be more skilful than
 he was in ordinary farm work2 and as   
yet the call for clever men to attend to
 machinery1 c41 was very limited2 nor   
were such a class of workmen usually    
drawn from the resident population where
 improvements were introduced4 ,the only
 hope of higher wages that was held out 
to him was from the gradual rise of     
everything1 or the forced rise          
consequent upon agitation4 ,but1 said   
he1 the navvy must follow his work from 
place to place1 and lodgings are dear in
 the towns1 and the farmers in country  
places will not let their cottages      
except to their own labourers--how was  
the navvy even with higher wages to keep

 a wife8 ,the aspiring young fellow     
beside him replied at once sharply and  
decisively1 that he did not mean to have
 a wife1 leastways not till he had got  
his regular #cjs4 a week1 which he might
 in time4 ,then ,john ,smith made a     
noise in his chest like a grunt4  ,they 
parted after this4 ,smith went into the 
farmhouse1 and got his pint of beer1    
drinking it in one long slow draught1   
and then made his way through the       
scattered village to his cottage4 ,there
 was a frown on his forehead as he      
lifted the latch of the long low        
thatched building which was his home4   
,the flickering light of the fire on the
 hearth1 throwing great shadows as it   
blazed up and fell1 dazed his eyes as he
 stepped in1 and he did not notice a    
line stretched right across the room on 
which small articles of clothing were   
hanging to dry in a row4 ,a damp worsted
 stocking flapped against his face1 and 
his foot stumbled on the uneven flag    
stones which formed the floor4 ,he sat  

down silently upon a three-legged       
stool--an old milking-stool--and1       
putting his hands on his knees1 stared  
into the fire4 ,it was formed of a few  
sticks with just one knob of coal       
balanced on the top of them1 evident    
care having been taken that not a jot of
 its precious heat should be lost4 ,a   
great black pot with open lid swung over
 it1 from which rose a slight steam and 
a bubbling noise2 and this huge1 gaunt1 
bareboned1 hungry man1 looking into it1 
saw a large raw swede1 just as from the 
field1 with only the greens cut off1    
simmering for his supper4 ,that root in 
its day of life had been fed well with  
superphosphate1 and flourished          
exceedingly1 till now its globe could   
hardly go into the pot4 ,down the low   
chimney there came the monotonous growl 
of the bitter winter wind1 and a few    
spots of rain fell hissing on the       
embers4  ,is this all thee has got8 he  
asked1 turning to a woman who was busied
 with some more damp clothes in a       

basket4  ,she faced round quickly--a    
short1 narrow1 meagre creature1         
flat-chested and square-shouldered1     
whose face was the hue of light-coloured
 clay1 an almost corpse-like complexion4
 ,her thin lips hissed out1 ,ay1 if thee
 takes thee money to the pothouse thee  
won't get bacon for supper4  ,smith said
 nothing in reply1 but stared again into
 the fire4  ,the children's voices1     
which had lowered the moment there      
seemed a coming quarrel between their   
parents1 rose again4 ,there were three  
of them--the youngest four1 the eldest  
seven--playing on the stone flags of the
 floor1 between whose rough edges there 
were wide crevices of hardened mud4     
,with a few short sticks and a broken   
piece of earthenware for toys1 they were
 happy in their way4 ,whatever their    
food might have been1 they showed no    
traces of hard usage4 ,their red puddy  
fists were fat1 and their naked legs    
round and plump enough4 ,their faces    
were full and rosy1 and their voices    

clear and anything but querulous4 ,the  
eager passions of childhood come out    
fierce and unrestrained1 and blows were 
freely interchanged1 without1 however1  
either cries or apparent hatred4 ,their 
naked knees were on the stone-flags1 and
 the wind1 creeping in a draught under  
the ill-fitting door1 blew their ragged 
clothes about4  ,thee med well look at  
'em1 ,john1 said the woman1 seeing      
,smith cast a sideway glance at the     
children2 and rapidly manipulating the  
clothing1 her thin nervous lips poured  
forth a torrent of words upon the silent
 man4 ,they had had nothing but bread   
that day1 and nothing but bread and lard
 the day before1 and now the lard was   
gone1 and the baker would not trust any 
more4 ,there were no potatoes because   
the disease had destroyed them1 and the 
cabbages were sold for that bit of coal2
 and as for the swede1 she took it out  
of ,mr4 ----'s field1 and he was a      
cross-grained man1 and who knew but what
 they might have the constable on them  

before morning8 ,jane ,w4 and ,sarah ,y4
 went to prison for seven days for      
stealing swedes4 ,all along of that     
cursed drink4 ,if she were the squire   
she'd shut up all the pothouses in the  
county4 ,the men went there1 and drank  
the very shirts off their backs1 and the
 clothes off their children1 ay1 and the
 shoes off their feet2 and what was the 
use of their having more money when it  
only went into the publican's pocket8   
,there they sat1 and drank the bread out
 of the babies' mouths4 ,as for the     
women1 the most of them1 poor things1   
never tasted beer from one year's end to
 another4 ,old ,carter handed her a pint
 that day1 and when she tasted it she   
did not know what it was4 ,he might     
smile1 but it was true though3 no more  
did ,jane ,w4 and ,sally ,y43 they did  
not know what it tasted like4 ,and yet  
they had to be out in the fields at work
 at eight o'clock1 and their washing to 
do before that1 and perhaps a baby in   
their arms1 and the tea as weak as      

water1 and no sugar4 ,milk1 they could  
not get milk for money--he knew that    
very well2 all the milk went to ,london4
 ,a precious lot of good the higher     
wages had done them4 ,the farmers would 
not let them have a drop of milk or a   
scrap of victuals1 and talked about     
rising the price of the allotment       
grounds4 ,allotment1 did she say8 and   
how did he lose his allotment8--didn't  
he drink1 drink1 drink1 till he had to  
hand over his allotment to the landlord 
of the pothouse1 and did not they take  
it away from both as soon as they heard 
of it8 ,served him right4 ,they had not 
got a pound of potatoes1 and the        
children did use to lick up the         
potato-pot liquor as if they liked it4  
,smith asked where ,polly was1 but that 
was only a signal for a fresh outburst4 
,polly1 if he'd a looked after her she  
would have been all right4 7,smith      
turned a sharp glance at her in some    
alarm at this47 ,letting a great girl   
like that go about at night by herself  

while he was a drink1 drink1 drinking1  
and there she was now1 the bad hussy1   
gone to the workhouse to lie in4 7,smith
 winced47 ,she never disgraced herself  
like that2 and if he had sent the wench 
to service1 or stopped her going down to
 that pothouse with the fellows1 this   
would not have happened4 ,she always    
told him how it would end4 ,he was a    
good-for-nothing1 drunken brute of a    
man1 and had brought her to all this    
misery2 and she began sobbing4  ,after  
twelve long hours of toil1 including the
 walk to and fro1 exposed to the bitter 
cold1 with but a slice of cheese to     
support the strength of that brawny     
chest1 this welcome to his supper was   
more than the sturdy1 silent man could  
bear4 ,with a dull remembrance of the   
happy sunlit summer1 twenty years ago1  
when ,martha was a plump1 laughing girl1
 of sloe-black eyes and nut-brown       
complexion--with a glimpse of that merry
 courting time passing across his mind1 
,smith got up and walked out into the   

dark rainy night4 ,ay1 thee bist agoing 
to the liquor again1 were the last words
 he heard as he shut the door4  ,it was 
too true4 ,but what labourer1 let us    
ask1 with a full conception of the      
circumstances1 would blame him8 ,here   
there was nothing but hard and scanty   
fare1 no heat1 no light1 nothing to     
cheer the heart1 nothing to cause it to 
forget the toil of the day and the      
thought of the morrow1 no generous      
liquor sung by poets to warm the        
physical man4 ,but only a few yards     
farther down the road there was a great 
house1 with its shutters cosily closed1 
ablaze with heat and light1 echoing with
 merry laughter and song4 ,there was an 
array of good fellows ready to welcome  
him1 to tell him the news1 to listen    
eagerly to what he could tell them1 to  
ask him to drink1 and to drink from his 
cup in boon companionship4 ,there was a 
social circle in which his heart and    
intellect could expand1 at least for a  
while1 till the strong liquor mounted up

 and overcame his brain2 and then1 even 
then1 there was the forgetfulness1 the  
deep slumber of intoxication1 utterly   
oblivious of all things--perhaps the    
greatest pleasure of all4 ,smith went   
there1 and who of his own class would   
blame him8 ,and if his own class did    
not1 of what use is it for other and    
higher classes to preach morality to    
him8 ,it is a man's own comrades1 his   
own class1 whose opinions he dreads and 
conforms to4 ,if they condemned him for 
going there1 he would avoid the         
public-house4 ,but they would have      
called him a fool if he avoided it4 ,in 
their logic who could say they were     
wrong8 ,a man who is happy is a long    
while getting drunk1 he talks as much as
 he drinks2 but ,smith was dull and     
silent1 and drank steadily4 ,it was not 
late1 but when the house closed he could
 but just keep his feet4 ,in the thick  
darkness and the driving rain he        
staggered on1 unconscious of the road he
 was taking1 but bearing roughly towards

 home4 ,the cold air rather more        
stupefied him than brought him to       
himself4 ,insensibly he wandered with   
uncertain steps down a lane which led by
 a gentle slope out into the fields1 the
 fall of the ground guiding his         
footsteps1 and then stumbling over the  
root of an ash-tree1 fell heavily on the
 wet grass4 ,his eyes1 half-shut before1
 closed as if by clockwork1 and in a    
moment he was firm asleep4 ,his hat had 
fallen from his brow1 and the grizzled  
hair was blown about by the wind as it  
came in gusts through the hedge4 ,his   
body was a little sheltered by the tree1
 but his chest was open and bare        
half-way down his waistcoat2 and the    
heavy drops fell from the boughs of the 
ash on his stalwart neck1 gradually     
saturating his shirt4 ,it may have been 
that the cold numbed him and rendered   
him more insensible than he otherwise   
would have been4 ,no star shone out that
 night2 all was darkness1 clouds1 and   
rain till the dawn broke4  ,soon after  

dawn1 the young navvy1 going to his work
 by a short cut1 found ,smith still     
asleep1 and shook him till he got up4   
,he was stupid beyond all power of words
 to express2 but at last came to a dim  
idea that he must get home4 ,then the   
young navvy left him1 anxious about     
being late at his employment1 and ,john 
,smith slowly felt his way to his own   
door4 ,his wife1 already up1 opened it4 
,thee varmint6 thee never gi'ed ,i that 
shilling last night for the baker4      
,smith felt hopelessly in his pocket1   
and then looked at her vacantly4 ,thee  
drunken1 nasty old----1 said the        
infuriated woman1 almost unconsciously  
lifting her hand4 ,perhaps it was that  
action of hers which suggested the same 
to his mind1 which was in a mechanical  
state4 ,perhaps the stinging words of   
last night had at last sunk deep enough 
to scarify his self-esteem4 ,perhaps he 
did not at that moment fully remember   
the strength of his own mighty arm4 ,but
 he struck her1 and she fell4 ,her      

forehead came in contact with the       
cradle1 in which the youngest boy was   
sleeping1 and woke him with a cry4 ,she 
lay quite still4 ,smith sat stupidly    
down on the old milking-stool1 with his 
elbows on his knees4 ,the shrill voice  
of his wife1 as she met him at the door1
 had brought more than one female       
neighbour to the window2 they saw what  
happened1 and they were there in a      
minute4 ,martha was only insensible1 and
 they soon brought her to1 but the mark 
on the temple remained4  ,five days     
afterwards ,john ,smith1 agricultural   
labourer1 aged forty-five1 stood in the 
dock to answer a charge of assaulting   
his wife4 ,there were five magistrates  
on the ,bench--two large landowners1 a  
baronet in the chair1 and two clergymen4
 ,martha ,smith hung her head as they   
placed her in the witness-box1 and tried
 to evade kissing the ,book1 but the    
police saw that that formality was      
complied with4 ,the ,clerk asked her    
what she had to complain of4 ,no answer4

 ,come1 tell us all about it1 said the  
eldest of the magistrates in a fatherly 
tone of voice4 ,still silence4 ,well1   
how did you get that mark on your       
forehead8 asked the ,clerk4 ,no answer4 
,speak up6 cried a shrill voice in the  
body of the court4 ,it was one of       
,martha's cronies1 who was immediately  
silenced by the police2 but the train   
had been fired4 ,martha would not fail  
before another woman4 ,but she did not  
commence about the assault4 ,it was the 
drink she spoke of1 nothing but the     
drink2 and as she talked of that she    
warmed with her subject and her         
grievances1 and forgot the old love for 
her husband1 and her former hesitation1 
and placed that vice in all its naked   
deformity and hideous results in plain  
but burning words before the ,bench4    
,had she been the cleverest advocate she
 could not have prepared the ground for 
her case better4 ,this tale of drink    
predisposed their minds against the     
defendant4 ,only the ,clerk1 wedded to  

legal forms1 fidgeted under this        
eloquence1 and seized the first pause3  
,but now1 how about the assault8 ,come  
to that1 he said sharply4 ,i'm coming1  
sir1 said ,martha2 and she described    
,smith coming home1 stupid and          
ferocious1 after staying out all night1 
and felling her to the ground because   
she asked him for a shilling to buy the 
children's daily bread4 ,then she       
pointed to the bruise on her forehead1  
and a suppressed murmur of indignation  
ran through the ,court1 and angry looks 
were directed at the defendant4 ,did she
 do or say anything to provoke the blow8
 asked the ,chairman4 ,no more than to  
ask for the shilling4 ,did she not abuse
 him8 ,well1 yes1 she did2 she owned she
 did call him a drunken brute           
afterwards2 she could not help it4      
,these women1 with their rapid tongues1 
have a terrible advantage over the      
slower-witted men4  ,had the defendant  
any questions to ask his wife8 ,smith   
began to say that he was very sorry1    

sir1 but the ,clerk snapped him up      
short4 ,that's your defence4 ,have you  
any questions8 ,no2 well1 call your     
witnesses4 ,martha called her witnesses1
 the women living next door4 ,they did  
not do her case much good2 they were too
 evidently eager to obtain the          
defendant's condemnation4 ,but1 on the  
other hand1 they did not do it any harm1
 for in the main it was easy to see that
 they really corroborated her           
statements4 ,smith asked them no        
questions2 the labouring class rarely   
understand the object of                
cross-questioning4 ,if asked to do so   
they almost invariably begin to tell    
their own tale4  ,now1 then1 said the   
,clerk1 what have you got to say for    
yourself--what's your defence8 ,smith   
looked down and stammered something4 ,he
 was confused2 they checked him from    
telling his story when his mouth was    
full of language1 now it would not come4
 ,he did not know but that if he began  
he might be checked again4 ,the eldest  

magistrate on the ,bench saw his        
embarrassment1 and1 willing to assist   
him1 spoke as kindly as he could under  
the circumstances4 ,speak up1 ,john2    
tell us all about it4 ,i am sorry to see
 you there4 ,he's the finest1 most      
stalwart man in my parish1 he continued1
 turning to the ,chairman4 ,thus        
encouraged1 ,john got out a word or two4
 ,he was very sorry2 he did not mean to 
hurt her2 he knew he was tipsy1 and     
'twas his own fault2 she had been a good
 wife to him2 she asked him for money4  
,then all of a sudden ,john drew up his 
form to his full height1 and his chest  
swelled out1 and he spoke in his own    
strong voice clearly now that he had got
 a topic apart from his disgrace4 ,these
 were his words1 a little softened into 
more civilised pronunciation to make    
them intelligible3--  ,she asked ,i for 
money1 she did1 and what was ,i to gi'e 
her8 ,i hadn't a got a shilling nor a   
sixpence1 and she knew it1 and knowed   
that ,i couldn't get one either till    

,saturday night4 ,i gets thirteen       
shillings a week from ,master ,h41 and a
 shilling on ,sundays1 and ,i hev got   
five children and a wife to keep out of 
that--that's two shillings a week for   
each on us1 that's just threepence      
halfpenny a day1 look 'ee1 sir4 ,and    
what victuals be ,i to buy wi' that1 let
 alone beer8 and a man can't do no work 
wi'out a quart a day1 and that's        
fourpence1 and there's my share1 look   
'ee1 gone at onst4 ,wur be ,i to get any
 victuals1 and wur be ,i to get any     
clothes an' boots1 ,i should like for to
 know8 ,and ,jack he gets big and wants 
a main lot1 and so did ,polly1 but her's
 gone to the work'us'1 wuss luck4 ,and  
parson wants ,i to send the young 'uns  
to school1 and pay a penny a week for   
'em1 and missis she wants a bit o' bacon
 in the house and a loaf1 and what good 
is that of1 among all we8 ,i gets a     
slice of bacon twice a week1 and        
sometimes narn4 ,and beer--,i knows ,i  
drinks beer1 and more as ,i ought1 but  

what's a chap to do when he's a'most    
shrammed wi' cold1 and nar a bit o'     
nothin' in the pot but an old yeller    
swede as hard as wood8 ,and my teeth    
bean't as good as 'em used to be4 ,i    
knows ,i drinks beer1 and so would      
anybody in my place--it makes me kinder 
stupid1 as ,i don't feel nothing then4  
,wot's the good--,i've worked this      
thirty year or more1 since ,i wur big   
enough to go with the plough1 and ,i've 
a knowed they as have worked for nigh   
handy sixty1 and wot do 'em get for it8 
,all he'd a got wur the rheumatiz4 ,yer 
med as well drink while 'ee can4 ,i     
never meaned to hurt her1 and her knows 
it2 and if it wurn't for a parcel of    
women a-shoving on her on1 her would    
never a come here agen me4 ,i knows ,i  
drinks1 and what else be ,i to do8 ,i   
can't work allus4  ,but what are you    
going to say in your defence--do you say
 she provoked you or anything8 asked the
 ,clerk4  ,no1 ,i don't know as she     
provoked ,i4 ,i wur provoked1 though1 ,i

 wur4 ,i don't bear no malice agen she4 
,i ain't a got nothin' more for to say4 
,the magistrates retired1 and the       
,chairman1 on returning1 said that this 
was a most brutal and unprovoked        
assault1 made all the worse by the      
previous drinking habits of the         
defendant4 ,if it had not been for the  
good character he bore generally        
speaking 7here he looked towards the    
elder magistrate1 who had evidently said
 a word in ,smith's behalf71 he would   
have had a month's imprisonment1 or     
more4 ,as it was1 he was committed for a
 fortnight1 and to pay the costs1 or    
seven additional days2 and he hoped this
 would be a warning to him4  ,the elder 
magistrate looked at ,john ,smith1 and  
saw his jaw set firmly1 and his brow    
contract1 and his heart was moved       
towards him4  ,cannot you get better    
wages than that1 ,john8 he said4 ,at the
 railway they would give you eighteen or
 twenty4  ,it's so far to walk1 sir1 and
 my legs bean't as lissom as they used  

to be4  ,but take the missis and live   
there4  ,lodgings is too dear1 sir4     
,ah1 exactly4 ,still ,i don't see how   
the farmers could pay you more4 ,i'll   
see what can be done for you4  ,smith   
was led from the dock to the cell4 ,the 
expenses were paid by an unknown hand2  
but he underwent his fortnight's        
imprisonment4 ,his wife and children1   
with an empty larder1 were obliged to go
 to the workhouse1 where also his       
daughter was at the same time confined  
of an illegitimate child4 ,this is no   
fiction1 but an uncompromising picture  
of things as they are4 ,who is to blame 
for them8     ,,wiltshire ,,labourers4  
,,letter ,i4  7,to the ,editor of the   
,times47  ,,sir1--,the ,wiltshire       
agricultural labourer is not so highly  
paid as those of ,northumberland1 nor so
 low as those of ,dorset2 but in the    
amount of his wages1 as in intelligence 
and general position1 he may fairly be  
taken as an average specimen of his     
class throughout a large portion of the 

kingdom4  ,as a man1 he is usually      
strongly built1 broad-shouldered1 and   
massive in frame1 but his appearance is 
spoilt by the clumsiness of his walk and
 the want of grace in his movements4    
,though quite as large in muscle1 it is 
very doubtful if he possesses the       
strength of the seamen who may be seen  
lounging about the ports4 ,there is a   
want of firmness1 a certain disjointed  
style1 about his limbs1 and the muscles 
themselves have not the hardness and    
tension of the sailor's4 ,the labourer's
 muscle is that of a cart-horse1 his    
motions lumbering and slow4 ,his style  
of walk is caused by following the      
plough in early childhood1 when the weak
 limbs find it a hard labour to pull the
 heavy nailed boots from the thick clay 
soil4 ,ever afterwards he walks as if it
 were an exertion to lift his legs4 ,his
 food may1 perhaps1 have something to do
 with the deadened slowness which seems 
to pervade everything he does--there    
seems a lack of vitality about him4 ,it 

consists chiefly of bread and cheese1   
with bacon twice or thrice a week1      
varied with onions1 and if he be a      
milker 7on some farms7 with a good      
tuck-out at his employer's expense on   
,sundays4 ,on ordinary days he dines at 
the fashionable hour of six or seven in 
the evening--that is1 about that time   
his cottage scents the road with a      
powerful odour of boiled cabbage1 of    
which he eats an immense quantity4      
,vegetables are his luxuries1 and a     
large garden1 therefore1 is the greatest
 blessing he can have4 ,he eats huge    
onions raw2 he has no idea of flavouring
 his food with them1 nor of making those
 savoury and inviting messes or         
vegetable soups at which the ,french    
peasantry are so clever4 ,in ,picardy ,i
 have often dined in a peasant's        
cottage1 and thoroughly enjoyed the     
excellent soup he puts upon the table   
for his ordinary meal4 ,to dine in an   
,english labourer's cottage would be    
impossible4 ,his bread is generally     

good1 certainly2 but his bacon is the   
cheapest he can buy at small            
second-class shops--oily1 soft1 wretched
 stuff2 his vegetables are cooked in    
detestable style1 and eaten saturated   
with the pot liquor4 ,pot liquor is a   
favourite soup4 ,i have known cottagers 
actually apply at farmers' kitchens not 
only for the pot liquor in which meat   
has been soddened1 but for the water in 
which potatoes have been boiled--potato 
liquor--and sup it up with avidity4 ,and
 this not in times of dearth or         
scarcity1 but rather as a relish4 ,they 
never buy anything but bacon2 never     
butchers' meat4 ,philanthropic ladies1  
to my knowledge1 have demonstrated over 
and over again even to their limited    
capacities that certain parts of        
butchers' meat can be bought just as    
cheap1 and will make more savoury and   
nutritive food2 and even now1 with the  
present high price of meat1 a certain   
proportion would be advantageous4 ,in   
vain2 the labourers obstinately adhere  

to the pig1 and the pig only4 ,when1    
however1 an opportunity does occur the  
amount of food they will eat is         
something astonishing4 ,once a year1 at 
the village club dinner1 they gormandise
 to repletion4 ,in one instance ,i knew 
of a man eating a plate of roast beef   
7and the slices are cut enormously thick
 at these dinners71 a plate of boiled   
beef1 then another of boiled mutton1 and
 then a fourth of roast mutton1 and a   
fifth of ham4 ,he said he could not do  
much to the bread and cheese2 but didn't
 he go into the pudding6 ,i have even   
heard of men stuffing to the fullest    
extent of their powers1 and then        
retiring from the table to take an      
emetic of mustard and return to a second
 gorging4 ,there is scarcely any limit  
to their power of absorbing beer4 ,i    
have known reapers and mowers make it   
their boast that they could lie on their
 backs and never take the wooden bottle 
7in the shape of a small barrel7 from   
their lips till they had drunk a gallon1

 and from the feats ,i have seen ,i     
verily believe it a fact4 ,the beer they
 get is usually poor and thin1 though   
sometimes in harvest the farmers bring  
out a taste of strong liquor1 but not   
till the work is nearly over2 for from  
this very practice of drinking enormous 
quantities of small beer the labourer   
cannot drink more than a very limited   
amount of good liquor without getting   
tipsy4 ,this is why he so speedily gets 
inebriated at the alehouse4 ,while      
mowing and reaping many of them lay in a
 small cask4  ,they are much better     
clothed now than formerly4 ,corduroy    
trousers and slops are the usual style4 
,smock-frocks are going out of use1     
except for milkers and faggers4 ,almost 
every labourer has his ,sunday suit1    
very often really good clothes1         
sometimes glossy black1 with the        
regulation chimneypot4 ,his unfortunate 
walk betrays him1 dress how he will4    
,since labour has become so expensive it
 has become a common remark among the   

farmers that the labourer will go to    
church in broadcloth and the masters in 
smock-frocks4 ,the labourer never wears 
gloves--that has to come with the march 
of the times2 but he is particularly    
choice over his necktie4 ,the women must
 dress in the fashion4 ,a very          
respectable draper in an agricultural   
district was complaining to me the other
 day that the poorest class of women    
would have everything in the fashionable
 style1 let it change as often as it    
would4 ,in former times1 if he laid in a
 stock of goods suited to tradesmen1 and
 farmers' wives and daughters1 if the   
fashion changed1 or they got out of     
date1 he could dispose of them easily to
 the servants4 ,now no such thing4 ,the 
quality did not matter so much1 but the 
style must be the style of the day--no  
sale for remnants4 ,the poorest girl1   
who had not got two yards of flannel on 
her back1 must have the same style of   
dress as the squire's daughter--,dolly  
,vardens1 chignons1 and parasols for    

ladies who can work all day reaping in  
the broiling sun of ,august6 ,gloves1   
kid1 for hands that milk the cows6  ,the
 cottages now are infinitely better than
 they were4 ,there is scarcely room for 
further improvement in the cottages now 
erected upon estates4 ,they have three  
bedrooms1 and every appliance and       
comfort compatible with their           
necessarily small size4 ,it is only the 
cottages erected by the labourers       
themselves on waste plots of ground     
which are open to objection4 ,those he  
builds himself are1 indeed1 as a rule1  
miserable huts1 disgraceful to a        
,christian country4 ,i have an instance 
before me at this moment where a man    
built a cottage with two rooms and no   
staircase or upper apartments1 and in   
those two rooms eight persons lived and 
slept--himself and wife1 grown-up       
daughters1 and children4 ,there was not 
a scrap of garden attached1 not enough  
to grow half-a-dozen onions4 ,the refuse
 and sewage was flung into the road1 or 

filtered down a ditch into the brook    
which supplied that part of the village 
with water4 ,in another case at one time
 there was a cottage in which twelve    
persons lived4 ,this had upper          
apartments1 but so low was the ceiling  
that a tall man could stand on the      
floor1 with his head right through the  
opening for the staircase1 and see along
 the upper floor under the beds6 ,these 
squatters are the curse of the          
community4 ,it is among them that fever 
and kindred infectious diseases break   
out2 it is among them that wretched     
couples are seen bent double with       
rheumatism and affections of the joints 
caused by damp4 ,they have often been   
known to remain so long1 generation     
after generation1 in these wretched     
hovels1 that at last the lord of the    
manor1 having neglected to claim        
quit-rent1 they can defy him1 and claim 
them as their own property1 and there   
they stick1 eyesores and blots1 the     
fungi of the land4 ,the cottages erected

 by farmers or by landlords are now1 one
 and all1 fit and proper habitations for
 human beings2 and ,i verily believe it 
would be impossible throughout the      
length and breadth of ,wiltshire to find
 a single bad cottage on any large      
estate1 so well and so thoroughly have  
the landed proprietors done their work4 
,on all farms gardens are attached to   
the cottages1 in many instances very    
large1 and always sufficient to produce 
enough vegetables for the resident4 ,in 
villages the allotment system has been  
greatly extended of late years1 and has 
been found most beneficial1 both to     
owners and tenants4 ,as a rule the      
allotments are let at a rate which may  
be taken as ,l#d per annum--a sum which 
pays the landlord very well1 and enables
 the labourer to remunerate himself4 ,in
 one village which came under my        
observation the clergyman of the parish 
has turned a portion of his glebe land  
into allotments--a most excellent and   
noble example1 which cannot be too      

widely followed or too much extolled4   
,he is thus enabled to benefit almost   
every one of his poor parishioners1 and 
yet without destroying that sense of    
independence which is the great         
characteristic of a true ,englishman4   
,he has issued a book of rules and      
conditions under which these allotments 
are held1 and he thus places a strong   
check upon drunkenness and dissolute    
habits1 indulgence in which is a sure   
way to lose the portions of ground4     
,there is scarcely an end to the        
benefits of the allotment system4 ,in   
villages there cannot be extensive      
gardens1 and the allotments supply their
 place4 ,the extra produce above that   
which supplies the table and pays the   
rent is easily disposed of in the next  
town1 and places many additional        
comforts in the labourer's reach4 ,the  
refuse goes to help support and fatten  
the labourer's pig1 which brings him in 
profit enough to pay the rent of his    
cottage1 and the pig1 in turn1 manures  

the allotment4 ,some towns have large   
common lands1 held under certain        
conditions2 such are ,malmesbury1 with  
#ejj acres1 and ,tetbury 7the common    
land of which extends two miles71 both  
these being arable1 c4 ,these are not   
exactly in the use of labourers1 but    
they are in the hands of a class to     
which the labourer often rises4 ,many   
labourers have fruit-trees in their     
gardens1 which1 in some seasons1 prove  
very profitable4 ,in the present year1  
to my knowledge1 a labourer sold ,l#d   
worth of apples2 and another made ,l#c1 
#ajs4 off the produce of one pear-tree1 
pears being scarce4  ,to come at last to
 the difficult question of wages4 ,in   
,wiltshire there has been no extended   
strike1 and very few meetings upon the  
subject1 for the simple reason that the 
agitators can gain no hold upon a county
 where1 as a mass1 the labourers are    
well paid4 ,the common day-labourer     
receives #ajs41 #aas41 and #abs4 a week1
 according to the state of supply and   

demand for labour in various districts2 
and1 if he milks1 #as4 more1 making     
#acs4 a week1 now common wages4 ,these  
figures are rather below the mark2 ,i   
could give instances of much higher pay4
 ,to give a good idea of the wages paid 
,i will take the case of a hill farmer  
7arable1 ,marlborough ,downs71 who paid 
this last summer during harvest #ahs4   
per week per man4 ,his reapers often    
earned #ajs4 a day--enough to pay their 
year's rent in a week4 ,these men lived 
in cottages on the farm1 with three     
bedrooms each1 and some larger1 with    
every modern appliance1 each having a   
garden of a quarter of an acre attached 
and close at hand1 for which cottage and
 garden they paid #as4 per week rent4   
,the whole of these cottages were       
insured by the farmer himself1 their    
furniture1 c41 in one lump1 and the     
insurance policy cost him1 as nearly as 
possible1 #as4 #c;d4 per cottage per    
year4 ,for this he deducted #as4 per    
year each from their wages4 ,none of the

 men would have insured unless he had   
insisted upon doing it for them4 ,these 
men had from six to eight quarts of beer
 per man 7over and above their #ahs4 a  
week7 during harvest every day4 ,in     
spring and autumn their wages are much  
increased by piece-work1 hoeing1 c4 ,in 
winter the farmer draws their coal for  
them in his waggons1 a distance of eight
 miles from the nearest wharf1 enabling 
them to get it at cost price4 ,this is  
no slight advantage1 for1 at the present
 high price of coal1 it is sold1        
delivered in the villages1 at #bs4 per  
cwt4 ,many who cannot afford it in the  
week buy a quarter of a cwt4 on         
,saturday night1 to cook their ,sunday's
 dinner with1 for #f;d4 ,this is at the 
rate of ,l#b per ton4 ,another          
gentleman1 a large steam cultivator in  
the ,vale1 whose name is often before   
the public1 informs me that his books   
show that he paid ,l#ajj in one year in 
cash to one cottage for labour1 showing 
the advantage the labourer possesses    

over the mechanic1 since his wife and   
child can add to his income4 ,many      
farmers pay ,l#ej and ,l#fj a year for  
beer drunk by their labourers--a serious
 addition to their wages4 ,the railway  
companies and others who employ         
mechanics1 do not allow them any beer4  
,the allowance of a good cottage and a  
quarter of an acre of garden for #as4   
per week is not singular4 ,many who were
 at the ,autumn ,manoeuvres of the      
present year may remember having a      
handsome row of houses1 rather than     
cottages1 pointed out to them as        
inhabited by labourers at #as4 per week4
 ,in the immediate neighbourhood of     
large manufacturing towns #as4 #f;d4 a  
week is sometimes paid2 but then these  
cottages would in such positions readily
 let to mechanics for #cs41 #ds41 and   
even #es4 per week4 ,there was a great  
outcry when the ,duke of ,marlborough   
issued an order that the cottages on his
 estate should in future only be let to 
such men as worked upon the farms where 

those cottages were situated4 ,in       
reality this was the very greatest      
blessing the ,duke could have conferred 
upon the agricultural labourer2 for it  
ensured him a good cottage at a nearly  
nominal rent and close to his work2     
whereas in many instances previously the
 cottages on the farms had been let at a
 high rate to the mechanics1 and the    
labourer had to walk miles before he got
 to his labour4 ,cottages are not       
erected by landowners or by farmers as  
paying speculations4 ,it is well known  
that the condition of things prevents   
the agricultural labourer from being    
able to pay a sufficient rent to be a   
fair percentage upon the sum expended4  
,in one instance a landlord has built   
some cottages for his tenant1 the tenant
 paying a certain amount of interest on 
the sum invested by the landlord4 ,now1 
although this is a matter of            
arrangement1 and not of                 
speculation--that is1 although the      
interest paid by the tenant is a low    

percentage upon the money laid out1 yet 
the rent paid by the labourers          
inhabiting these cottages to the tenant 
does not reimburse him what he pays his 
landlord as interest--not by a          
considerable margin4 ,but then he has   
the advantage of his labourers close to 
his work1 always ready at hand4  ,over  
and above the actual cash wages of the  
labourer1 which are now very good1 must 
be reckoned his cottage and garden1 and 
often a small orchard1 at a nominal     
rent1 his beer at his master's expense1 
piece-work1 gleaning after harvest1 c41 
which alter his real position very      
materially4 ,in ,gloucestershire1 on the
 ,cotswolds1 the best-paid labourers are
 the shepherds1 for in that great       
sheep-country much trust is reposed in  
them4 ,at the annual auctions of        
shearlings which are held upon the large
 farms a purse is made for the shepherd 
of the flock1 into which every one who  
attends is expected to drop a shilling1 
often producing ,l#e4 ,the shepherds on 

the ,wiltshire downs are also well paid1
 especially in lambing-time1 when the   
greatest watchfulness and care are      
required4 ,it has been stated that the  
labourer has no chance of rising from   
his position4 ,this is sheer cant4 ,he  
has very good opportunities of rising1  
and often does rise1 to my knowledge4   
,at this present moment ,i could mention
 a person who has risen from a position 
scarcely equal to that of a labourer1   
not only to have a farm himself1 but to 
place his sons in farms4 ,another has   
just entered on a farm2 and several more
 are on the highroad to that desirable  
consummation4 ,if a labourer possesses  
any amount of intelligence he becomes   
head-carter or head-fagger1 as the case 
may be2 and from that to be assistant or
 under-bailiff1 and finally bailiff4 ,as
 a bailiff he has every opportunity to  
learn the working of a farm1 and is     
often placed in entire charge of a farm 
at a distance from his employer's       
residence4 ,in time he establishes a    

reputation as a practical man1 and being
 in receipt of good wages1 with very    
little expenditure1 saves some money4   
,he has now little difficulty in        
obtaining the promise of a farm1 and    
with this can readily take up money4    
,with average care he is a made man4    
,others rise from petty trading1 petty  
dealing in pigs and calves1 till they   
save sufficient to rent a small farm1   
and make that the basis of larger       
dealing operations4 ,i question very    
much whether a clerk in a firm would not
 find it much more difficult1 as        
requiring larger capital1 to raise      
himself to a level with his employer    
than an agricultural labourer does to   
the level of a farmer4  ,many labourers 
now wander far and wide as navvies1 c41 
and perhaps when these return home1 as  
most of them do1 to agricultural labour1
 they are the most useful and           
intelligent of their class1 from a      
readiness they possess to turn their    
hand to anything4 ,i know one at this   

moment who makes a large addition to his
 ordinary wages by brewing for the small
 inns1 and very good liquor he brews1   
too4 ,they pick up a large amount of    
practical knowledge4  ,the agricultural 
women are certainly not handsome2 ,i    
know no peasantry so entirely           
uninviting4 ,occasionally there is a    
girl whose nut-brown complexion and     
sloe-black eyes are pretty1 but their   
features are very rarely good1 and they 
get plain quickly1 so soon as the first 
flush of youth is past4 ,many have      
really good hair in abundance1 glossy   
and rich1 perhaps from its exposure to  
the fresh air4 ,but on ,sundays they    
plaster it with strong-smelling pomade  
and hair-oil1 which scents the air for  
yards most unpleasantly4 ,as a rule1 it 
may safely be laid down that the        
agricultural women are moral1 far more  
so than those of the town4 ,rough and   
rude jokes and language are1 indeed1 too
 common2 but that is all4 ,no evil comes
 of it4 ,the fairs are the chief cause  

of immorality4 ,many an honest1         
hard-working servant-girl owes her ruin 
to these fatal mops and fairs1 when     
liquor to which she is unaccustomed     
overcomes her4 ,yet it seems cruel to   
take from them the one day or two of the
 year on which they can enjoy themselves
 fairly in their own fashion4 ,the      
spread of friendly societies1 patronised
 by the gentry and clergy1 with their   
annual festivities1 is a remedy which is
 gradually supplying them with safer1   
and yet congenial1 amusement4 ,in what  
may be termed lesser morals ,i cannot   
accord either them or the men the same  
praise4 ,they are too ungrateful for the
 many great benefits which are          
bountifully supplied them--the brandy1  
the soup1 and fresh meat readily        
extended without stint from the farmer's
 home in sickness to the cottage are too
 quickly forgotten4 ,they who were most 
benefited are often the first to most   
loudly complain and to backbite4 ,never 
once in all my observation have ,i heard

 a labouring man or woman make a        
grateful remark2 and yet ,i can         
confidently say that there is no class  
of persons in ,england who receive so   
many attentions and benefits from their 
superiors as the agricultural labourers4
 ,stories are rife of their even        
refusing to work at disastrous fires    
because beer was not immediately        
forthcoming4 ,i trust this is not true2 
but it is too much in character4 ,no    
term is too strong in condemnation for  
those persons who endeavour to arouse an
 agitation among a class of people so   
short-sighted and so ready to turn      
against their own benefactors and their 
own interest4 ,i am credibly informed   
that one of these agitators1 immediately
 after the ,bishop of ,gloucester's     
unfortunate but harmlessly intended     
speech at the ,gloucester ,agricultural 
,society's dinner--one of these         
agitators mounted a platform at a       
village meeting and in plain language   
incited and advised the labourers to    

duck the farmers6 ,the agricultural     
women either go out to field-work or    
become indoor servants4 ,in harvest they
 hay-make--chiefly light work1 as       
raking--and reap1 which is much harder  
labour2 but then1 while reaping they    
work their own time1 as it is done by   
the piece4 ,significantly enough1 they  
make longer hours while reaping4 ,they  
are notoriously late to arrive1 and     
eager to return home1 on the hay-field4 
,the children help both in haymaking and
 reaping4 ,in spring and autumn they hoe
 and do other piece-work4 ,on pasture   
farms they beat clots or pick up stones 
out of the way of the mowers' scythes4  
,occasionally1 but rarely now1 they     
milk4 ,in winter they wear gaiters1     
which give the ankles a most ungainly   
appearance4 ,those who go out to service
 get very low wages at first from their 
extreme awkwardness1 but generally      
quickly rise4 ,as dairymaids they get   
very good wages indeed4 ,dairymaids are 
scarce and valuable4 ,a dairymaid who   

can be trusted to take charge of a dairy
 will sometimes get ,l#bj besides her   
board 7liberal7 and sundry perquisites4 
,these often save money1 marry bailiffs1
 and help their husbands to start a     
farm4  ,in the education provided for   
children ,wiltshire compares favourably 
with other counties4 ,long before the   
passing of the recent ,act in reference 
to education the clergy had established 
schools in almost every parish1 and     
their exertions have enabled the greater
 number of places to come up to the     
standard required by the ,act1 without  
the assistance of a ,school ,board4 ,the
 great difficulty is the distance       
children have to walk to school1 from   
the sparseness of population and the    
number of outlying hamlets4 ,this       
difficulty is felt equally by the       
farmers1 who1 in the majority of cases1 
find themselves situated far from a good
 school4 ,in only one place has anything
 like a cry for education arisen1 and   
that is on the extreme northern edge of 

the county4 ,the ,vice-,chairman of the 
,swindon ,chamber of ,agriculture       
recently stated that only one-half of   
the entire population of ,inglesham     
could read and write4 ,it subsequently  
appeared that the parish of ,inglesham  
was very sparsely populated1 and that a 
variety of circumstances had prevented  
vigorous efforts being made4 ,the       
children1 however1 could attend schools 
in adjoining parishes1 not farther than 
two miles1 a distance which they        
frequently walk in other parts of the   
country4  ,those who are so ready to    
cast every blame upon the farmer1 and to
 represent him as eating up the earnings
 of his men and enriching himself with  
their ill-paid labour1 should remember  
that farming1 as a rule1 is carried on  
with a large amount of borrowed capital4
 ,in these days1 when ,l#f an acre has  
been expended in growing roots for      
sheep1 when the slightest derangement of
 calculation in the price of wool1 meat1
 or corn1 or the loss of a crop1        

seriously interferes with a fair return 
for capital invested1 the farmer has to 
sail extremely close to the wind1 and   
only a little more would find his canvas
 shaking4 ,it was only recently that the
 cashier of the principal bank of an    
agricultural county1 after an           
unprosperous year1 declared that such   
another season would make almost every  
farmer insolvent4 ,under these          
circumstances it is really to be        
wondered at that they have done as much 
as they have for the labourer in the    
last few years1 finding him with better 
cottages1 better wages1 better          
education1 and affording him better     
opportunities of rising in the social   
scale4--,i am1 ,sir1 faithfully yours1  
,,richard ,,jefferies4  ,,coate ,,farm1 
,,swindon1 ,nov4 #ab1 #ahgb4   ,lord    
,shaftesbury1 in the ,times1 ,dec4 #fth1
 says3--  ,it is our duty and our       
interest to elevate the present         
condition of the labourer1 and to enable
 him to assert and enjoy every one of   

his rights4 ,but ,i must agree with ,mr4
 ,jefferies that1 even under the actual 
system of things1 numerous instances    
have occurred of a rise in the social   
scale as the result of temperance1 good 
conduct1 and economy4 ,he has furnished 
some examples4 ,i will give only one    
from my own estate3--',t4 ,m4 was for   
many years shepherd to ,farmer ,p----2  
he bought with his savings a small      
leasehold property at ---- for ,l#agj1  
and he had accumulated ,l#ajj besides4  
,he had brought up a son and three      
daughters1 and his son now occupies the 
leasehold4' ,this is the statement as   
given to me in writing4   ,,letter ,,ii4
  7,to the ,editor of the ,times47      
,,sir1--,i did not intend to make any   
reply to the numerous attacks made upon 
my letter published in the ,times of the
 #adth inst41 but the statements made by
 ,the ,son of a ,wiltshire ,labourer are
 such as ,i feel bound to resent on the 
part of the farmers of this county4  ,he
 says he wishes the landed proprietors  

would take as much care to provide      
cottages for their labourers as ,i      
represent them as doing4 ,i repeat what 
,i said1 that the cottages on large     
estates are now1 one and all1 fit       
habitations for human beings4 ,the ,duke
 of ,marlborough is a large proprietor  
of cottages in this neighbourhood1 and  
his plan has been1 whenever a cottage   
did not appear sufficiently commodious1 
to throw two into one4 ,the owner of the
 largest estate near ,swindon has been  
engaged for many years past in removing 
the old thatched mud hovels1 and        
replacing them with substantial1 roomy1 
and slate-roofed buildings4 ,farmers are
 invariably anxious to have good        
cottages4 ,there is a reluctance to     
destroy the existing ones1 both from the
 inconvenience and the uncertainty      
sometimes of others being erected4      
,often1 too1 the poor have the strongest
 attachment to the cabin in which they  
were born and bred1 and would strongly  
resent its destruction1 though obviously

 for their good4 ,farmers never build   
bad cottages now4 ,when a tenement falls
 in1 either from decay or the death of  
the tenant1 the cottage which is erected
 on its site is invariably a good one4  
,a row of splendid cottages has recently
 been erected at ,wanborough4 ,they are 
very large1 with extensive gardens      
attached4 ,some even begin to complain  
that the cottages now erected are in a  
sense too good for the purpose4 ,the    
system of three bedrooms is undoubtedly 
the best from a sanitary point of view1 
but it is a question whether the        
widespread belief in that system1 and   
that system alone1 has not actually     
retarded the erection of reasonably good
 buildings4 ,it is that third bedroom   
which just prevents the investment of   
building a cottage from paying a        
remunerative percentage on the capital  
expended4 ,two bedrooms are easily      
made--the third puzzles the builder     
where to put it with due regard to      
economy4 ,nor is a third bedroom always 

required4 ,out of ten families perhaps  
only two require a third bedroom2 in    
this way there is a large waste in      
erecting a row4 ,it has been suggested  
that a row should consist of so many    
cottages with two bedrooms only for     
families who do not want more1 and at   
each end a building with three bedrooms 
for larger families4 ,in one instance   
two cottages were ordered to be erected 
on an estate1 the estimate for which was
 ,l#fdj2 these when completed might have
 let for ,l#aj per annum1 or #a-c_/d per
 cent1 on the capital invested6 ,the    
plans for these cottages had so many    
dormer windows1 porches1 intricacies of 
design in variegated tiles1 c41 that the
 contractor gave it up as a bad job4 ,i 
mention this to show that the tendency  
to build good cottages has gone even    
beyond what was really required1 and    
ornamentation is added to utility4      
,then it is further stated that the     
labourer cannot build cottages4 ,i could
 name a lane at this moment the cottages

 in which were one and all built by     
labourers2 and there are half-a-dozen in
 this village which were erected by     
regular farm labourers4 ,the majority of
 these are1 as ,i said before1 wretched 
hovels1 but there are two or three which
 demonstrate that the labourer1 if he is
 a thrifty man1 earns quite sufficient  
to enable him to erect a reasonably good
 building4 ,the worst hovel ,i ever saw 
7it was mentioned in my letter of the   
#adth7 was built by a man who is        
notorious for his drinking habits4 ,some
 forty years ago1 when wages were much  
lower than they are now1 two labourers1 
to my knowledge1 took possession of a   
strip of waste land by the roadside1 and
 built themselves cottages4 ,one of     
these was a very fair building2 the     
other would certainly be condemned      
now-a-days4 ,the lord of the manor      
claimed these2 and the difficulty was   
thus adjusted3--,the builders were to   
receive the value of their tenements    
from the lord of the manor1 and were to 

remain permanent tenants for life on    
payment of a small percentage1 interest 
upon the purchase-money1 as quit-rent4  
,on their deaths the cottages were to   
become the property of the lord of the  
manor4 ,one man received ,l#dj for his  
cottage1 the other ,l#bj1 which sums    
forty years ago represented relatively a
 far higher value than now1 and         
demonstrate conclusively that the       
labourer1 if he is a steady1            
hard-working man1 can build a cottage4  
,another cottage ,i know of1 built by a 
farm labourer1 is really a very         
creditable building--good walls1 floors1
 staircase1 sashes1 doors2 it stands    
high1 and appears very comfortable1 and 
even pleasant1 in summer1 for they are a
 thrifty family1 and can even display   
flower-pots in the window4 ,other       
cottages have been built or largely     
added to in my memory by labourers4 ,on 
these occasions they readily obtain help
 from the farmers4 ,one lends his team  
and waggons to draw the stones2 another 

supplies wood for nothing2 but of late  
,i must admit there has been some       
reluctance to assist in this way 7unless
 for repairs7 because it was so often   
found that the buildings thus erected   
were not fit habitations4 ,the ,boards  
of ,guardians often find a difficulty   
from the limited ownership of some of   
the labourers1 who apply for relief1 of 
their cottages4 ,perhaps they have not  
paid quit-rent for a year or two2 but   
still they cannot sell1 and yet it seems
 unjust to the ratepayers to assist a   
man who has a tenement which he at least
 calls his own1 and from which he cannot
 be ejected1 ,i know a labourer at this 
moment living in a cottage originally   
built by his father1 and added to by    
himself by the assistance of the        
neighbouring farmers4 ,this man has been
 greatly assisted by one farmer in      
particular1 who advanced him money by   
which he purchased a horse and cart1 and
 was enabled to do a quantity of        
hauling1 flint-carting for the          

waywardens1 and occasionally to earn    
money by assisting to carry a farmer's  
harvest4 ,he rents a large piece of     
arable land1 and ought to be            
comparatively well off4  ,the ,son of a 
,wiltshire ,labourer complains that the 
farmers or proprietors do not make      
sufficient efforts to supply the        
cottages with water4 ,the lord of the   
manor and the tenant of the largest     
farms in this immediate neighbourhood   
have but just sunk a well for their     
cottages2 previously they had got their 
supply from a pump in an adjacent       
farmyard thrown open by the proprietor  
to all the village4  ,it is the labourer
 himself who will not rise4 ,in a       
village with which ,i am acquainted     
great efforts have been made by a farmer
 and a gentleman living near to provide 
proper school instruction for the       
children4 ,one labourer was asked why he
 did not send his children to school4   
,he replied1 ,because he could not      
afford it4 ,but1 said the farmer1 it is 

only threepence altogether4 ,oh1 no2 he 
could not afford it4 ,the farmer        
explained to him that the object was to 
avoid a ,school ,board1 which1 in other 
places1 had the power to fine for not   
sending children to school4 ,no1 he     
could not afford it4 ,the farmer's books
 show that this labourer1 his wife1 and 
two children received #bhs4 #f;d4 per   
week1 his cottage rent free1 and a very 
large garden at a low rent4 ,yet he     
could not afford the #c;d4 a week which 
would enable his children ultimately to 
take a better position in the world6    
,the same farmer1 who is a liberal and  
large-minded man1 has endeavoured1      
without success1 to introduce the       
practice of paying in cash instead of   
beer1 and also the system of payment for
 overtime4 ,the men say no1 they would  
rather not4 ,in wet weather1 they say1  
we do no work1 but you pay us2 and if we
 work a little later in harvest1 it only
 makes it fair4 ,they would not take    
money instead of beer4 ,in another case 

which came under my personal observation
 in the middle of last summer1 a farmer 
announced his intention of paying in    
cash instead of allowing beer4 ,in the  
very press of the haymaking1 with acres 
upon acres of grass spoiling1 his men1  
one and all1 struck work because he     
would not give them beer1 and went over 
to a neighbour's field adjacent and     
worked for him for nothing but their    
share in the beer4 ,if labourers work   
longer hours in harvest 7corn71 it is   
because it is piece-work1 and they      
thereby make more money4 ,i contend that
 the payment in kind1 the beer1 the     
gleanings1 the piece-work1 the low and  
nominal cottage rent1 the allotment     
ground and produce1 and the pig 7not    
restricted to one pig in a year71 may   
fairly be taken as an addition to their 
wages4 ,i am informed that in one parish
 the cottage rents vary from #aj;d4 to  
#as4 #b;d4 per week2 nearly all have    
gardens1 and all may have allotments up 
to a quarter of an acre each at #c;d4   

per lug1 or #djs4 per acre4 ,i am also  
informed of a labourer renting a cottage
 and garden at #as4 per week1 the       
fruit-trees in whose garden produced    
this year three sacks of damsons1 which 
he sold at #as4 #f;d4 per gallon1 or    
,l#f1 #ahs4 ,i know of a case in which a
 labourer--an earnest1 intelligent1     
hard-working man--makes ,l#b a week on  
an average all the year round4 ,but then
 he works only at piece-work1 going from
 farm to farm1 and this is1 of course1  
an exceptional case4 ,the old men1 worn 
out with age and infirmity1 are kept on 
year after year by many farmers out of  
charity1 rather than let them go to the 
workhouse1 though totally useless and a 
dead loss1 especially as occupying      
valuable cottage-room4 ,there is a      
society1 the annual meetings of which   
are held at ,chippenham1 and which is   
supported by the clergy1 gentry1 and    
farmers generally of ,north ,wilts1 for 
the object of promoting steady habits   
among the labourers and rewarding cases 

of long and deserving services4 ,there  
is also a friendly society on the best  
and most reliable basis1 supported by   
the gentry1 and introduced as far as    
possible into villages4 ,the labourers  
on the ,great ,western ,railway works at
 ,swindon earn from #aes4 a week        
upwards1 according as they approach to  
skilled workmen4 ,attracted by these    
wages1 most of the young men of the     
neighbourhood try the factory1 but1     
usually1 after a short period return to 
farm-work1 the result of their          
experience being that they are better   
off as agricultural labourers4 ,lodgings
 in the town close to the factory are   
very expensive1 and food in proportion2 
consequently they have to walk long     
distances to their labour--some from    
,wanborough1 five miles2 ,wroughton1    
three and a half miles2 ,purton1 four   
miles2 and even ,wootton ,bassett1 six  
miles1 which twice a day is a day's work
 in itself4 ,add to this the temptations
 to spend money in towns1 and the severe

 labour1 and the man finds himself      
better off with his quiet cottage and   
garden on a farm at #abs4 a week1 and   
#as4 for milking1 with beer1 and a meal 
on ,sundays4 ,the skilled mechanics1 who
 earn #cfs4 to ,l#b per week1 rent      
houses in the town at #fs4 to #hs42 and 
in one case ,i knew of #abs4 per week   
paid by a lodger for two rooms4 ,these  
prices cannot be paid out of the        
mechanic's wage2 consequently he        
sub-lets1 or takes lodgers1 and         
sometimes these sub-let1 and the result 
is an overcrowding worse than that of   
the agricultural cottages1 around which 
there is at least fresh air and plenty  
of light 7nearly as important71 which   
are denied in a town4 ,the factory      
labourer and the mechanic are liable to 
instant dismissal4 ,the agricultural    
labourers 7half of them at least7 are   
hired by the year or half-year1 and     
cannot be summarily sent along unless   
for misconduct4 ,wages have recently    
been increased by the farmers of        

,wiltshire voluntarily and without      
pressure from threatened strikes4 ,it is
 often those who receive the highest    
wages who are the first to come to the  
parish for relief4 ,it is not uncommon  
for mechanics and others to go for      
relief where it is discovered that they 
are in receipt of sick pay from the yard
 club1 and sometimes from two friendly  
societies1 making #ahs4 a week4 ,a      
manufacturing gentleman informed me that
 the very men whom he had been paying   
,l#h a week to were the first to apply  
for relief when distress came and the   
mills stopped4 ,it is not low wages1    
then1 which causes improvident habits4  
,the only result of deporting           
agricultural labourers to different     
counties is to equalise the wages paid  
all over ,england4 ,this union-assisted 
emigration affords the improvident      
labourer a good opportunity of          
transporting himself to a distant       
county1 and leaving deeply in debt with 
the tradesmen with whom he has long     

dealt4 ,i am informed that this is      
commonly the case with emigrating       
labourers4 ,a significant fact is noted 
in the leader of the ,labour ,news of   
the #afth of ,november2 the return of   
certain emigrants from ,america is      
announced as indicative that higher     
quotations are not always representative
 of greater positive advantages4 ,the   
agricultural labourer found that out    
when he returned from the factory at    
#aes4 per week to farm labour at #abs4  
,i am positive that the morality of the 
country compares favourably with that of
 the town4 ,i was particularly struck   
with this fact on a visit to the ,black 
,country4 ,one of the worst parishes for
 immorality in ,wiltshire is one where  
glovemaking is carried on2 singularly   
enough1 manufactures and immorality seem
 to go together4 ,the ,son of a         
,labourer says that all the advantages  
the labourer does possess are owing to  
the exertions of the clergy2 pray who   
support the clergy but the farmers8  ,i 

think that the facts ,i have mentioned  
sufficiently demonstrate that the       
farmers and the landlords of ,wiltshire 
have done their duty1 and more than     
their mere duty1 towards the labourers2 
and only a little investigation will    
show that at present it is out of their 
power to do more4 ,take the case of a   
farmer entering a dairy-farm of1 say1   
#bej acres1 and calculate his immediate 
outgoings--say fifty cows at ,l#bj1     
,l#a1jjj2 two horses at ,l#be1 ,l#ej2   
waggons1 carts1 implements1 ,l#ajj2     
labour1 three men at #abs4 per week1    
,l#id2 harvest labour1 ,l#bj2 dairymaid 
,l#aj2 tithe1 taxes1 rates1 c41 ,l#ajj2 
rent1 ,l#b per acre1 ,l#ejj4 ,total1    
,l#ahgd4 ,in other words 7exclusive of  
the capital invested in stock71 the     
outgoings amount to ,l#gbd per annum2   
against which put--fifty cows' milk1 c41
 at ,l#aj per head1 ,l#ejj2 fifty       
calves1 ,l#ajj2 fifty tons of hay at    
,l#c1 #ajs41 ,l#age4 ,total income1     
,l#gge2 balance in hand1 ,l#ea4 ,then   

comes the village school subscription2  
sometimes a church rate 7legally        
voluntary1 but morally binding71 c4  ,so
 that1 in hard figures 7all these are   
below the mark1 if anything71 there is  
positively nothing left for the farmer  
but a house and garden free4 ,how1 then1
 is money made8 ,by good judgment in    
crops1 in stock1 by lucky accidents4 ,on
 a dairy-farm the returns begin         
immediately2 on an arable one there is  
half a year at least to wait4 ,the care1
 the judgment1 required to be exercised 
is something astonishing1 and a farmer  
is said to be all his life learning his 
trade4 ,if sheep are dear and pay well1 
the farmer plants roots2 then1 perhaps1 
after a heavy expenditure for manure1   
for labour1 and seed1 there comes the   
fly1 or a drought1 and his capital is   
sunk4 ,on the other hand1 if the season 
be good1 roots are cheap and            
over-plentiful1 and where is his profit 
then8 ,he works like a labourer himself 
in all weathers and at all times2 he has

 the responsibility and the loss1 yet he
 is expected to find the labourer1 not  
only good cottages1 allotments1         
schooling1 good wages1 but ,heaven knows
 what besides4 ,supposing the ,l#ahgd   
7on the dairy-farm7 be borrowed capital 
for which he must pay at least #d per   
cent4--and few1 indeed1 are there who   
get money at that price--it is obvious  
how hard he must personally work1 how   
hard1 too1 he must live1 to make both   
ends meet4 ,and it speaks well for his  
energy and thrift that ,i heard a bank  
director not long since remark that he  
had noticed1 after all1 with every      
drawback1 the tenant farmers had made as
 a rule more money in proportion than   
their landlords4 ,a harder-working class
 of men does not exist than the         
,wiltshire farmers4  ,only a few days   
ago ,i saw in your valuable paper a     
list1 nearly a column long1 of the      
millionaires who had died in the last   
ten years4 ,it would be interesting to  
know how much they had spent for the    

benefit of the agricultural labourer4   
,yet no one attacks them4 ,they pay no  
poor-rates1 no local taxation1 or       
nothing in proportion4 ,the farmer pays 
the poor-rate which supports the        
labourer in disease1 accident1 and old  
age2 the highway rates on which the     
millionaire's carriage rolls2 and very  
soon the turnpike trusts will fall in1  
and the farmers--i4e41 the land--will   
have to support the imperial roads also4
 ,with all these heavy burdens on his   
back1 having to compete against the     
world1 he has yet no right to           
compensation for his invested capital if
 he is ordered to quit4 ,without some   
equalisation of local taxation--as ,i   
have shown1 the local taxes often make  
another rent almost--without a          
recognised tenant-right1 not            
revolutionary1 but for unexhausted      
improvements1 better security1 so that  
he can freely invest capital1 the farmer
 cannot--,i reiterate it1 he cannot--do 
more than he has done for the labourer4 

,he would then employ more skilled      
labour1 and wages would be better4 ,and1
 after all that he does for them1 he    
dares not find fault1 or he may find his
 ricks blazing away--thanks to the      
teaching of the agitators that the      
farmers are tyrants1 and1 by inference1 
that to injure them is meritorious4     
,there is a poster in ,swindon now      
offering ,l#bj reward for the discovery 
of the person who maliciously set fire  
to a rick of hay in ,lord ,bolingbroke's
 park at ,lydiard4  ,if any farmers are 
hard upon their men1 it is those who    
have themselves been labourers and have 
risen to be employers of labour4 ,these 
very often thoroughly understand the art
 of getting the value of a man's wage   
out of him4 ,i deliberately affirm that 
the true farmers1 one and all1 are in   
favour of that maxim of a well-known and
 respected agriculturist of our         
county--,a fair day's wage for a fair   
day's work4  ,i fear the farmers of     
,wiltshire would be only too happy to   

ride thorough-breds to the hunt1 and see
 their daughters driving phaetons1 as   
they are accused of doing2 but ,i also  
fear that very1 very few enjoy that     
privilege4 ,most farmers1 it is true1 do
 keep some kind of vehicle2 it is       
necessary when their great distance from
 a town is considered1 and the keep of a
 horse or two comes to nothing on a     
large farm4 ,it is customary for them to
 drive their wives or daughters once a  
week on market-days into the nearest    
town4 ,if here and there an energetic   
man succeeds in making money1 and is    
able to send his son to a university1   
all honour to him4 ,i hope the farmers  
will send their sons to universities2   
the spread of education in their class  
will be of as much advantage to the     
community as among the labouring        
population1 for it will lead to the more
 general application of science to the  
land and a higher amount of production4 
,if the labourer attempted to rise he   
would be praised2 why not the farmer8   

,it is simply an unjustifiable libel on 
the entire class to accuse them of      
wilful extravagance4 ,i deliberately    
affirm that the majority of farmers in  
,wiltshire are exactly the reverse2     
that1 while they practise a generous    
hospitality to a friend or a stranger1  
they are decidedly saving and frugal    
rather than extravagant1 and they are   
compelled to be so by the condition of  
their finances4 ,to prove that their    
efforts are for the good of the         
community ,i need only allude to the    
work of the late ,mr4 ,stratton1 so     
crowned with success in improving the   
breed of cattle--a work in the sister   
county of ,gloucester so ably carried on
 at this present moment by ,mr4 ,edward 
,bowly1 and by ,mr4 ,lane and ,mr4      
,garne in the noted ,cotswold sheep4    
,the breeds produced by these gentlemen 
have in a manner impregnated the whole  
world1 imported as they have been to    
,america and ,australia4 ,it was once   
ably said that the readings of the      

,english ,bible ,sunday after ,sunday in
 our churches had preserved our language
 pure for centuries2 and1 in the same   
way1 ,i do verily believe that the      
,english 7not the ,wiltshire only1 but  
the ,english7 farmer as an institution1 
with his upright1 untainted ideas of    
honour1 honesty1 and morality1 has      
preserved the tone of society from that 
corruption which has so miserably       
degraded ,france--so much so that ,dumas
 recently scientifically predicted that 
,france was en route a prostitution     
generale4 ,just in the same way his     
splendid constitution as a man recruits 
the exhausted1 pale1 nervous race who   
dwell in cities1 and prevents the       
,englishman from physically             
degenerating4--,i am1 ,sir1 faithfully  
yours1  ,,richard ,,jefferies4  ,,coate 
,,farm1 ,,swindon1 ,november #be1 #ahgb4
     ,,the ,,allotment ,,system4  7,to  
the ,editor of the ,times47             
,,sir1--,many gentlemen having written  
to me for further information upon the  

system of glebe allotments for labourers
 mentioned in my letter to the ,times of
 ,november #ad1 it has occurred to me   
that the following facts may be         
interesting3--  ,the glebe alluded to   
was that of ,lyddington1 near ,swindon1 
and the plan was originated by the late 
incumbent1 ,mr4 ,may1 but carried out   
into a complete system by the present   
much-respected rector1 the ,rev4 ,h4    
,munn4 ,the land itself is situated not 
more than #cjj yards from the village of
 ,lyddington1 by the side of a good     
turnpike-road1 and is traversed by two  
roads giving easy access to every       
allotment4 ,each plot of ground is      
divided from the next by a narrow green 
path3 no hedges or mounds are permitted1
 and the field itself is enclosed       
without a hedge to harbour birds4 ,the  
soil is a rich dark loam1 yielding good 
crops1 with very little manure1 and the 
surface is level4 ,there are sixty-three
 tenants occupying plots varying in     
size1 according to circumstances1 from  

#dh lug downwards--#be1 #cj1 #af1 c4 ,a 
lug is a provincialism for perch4 ,the  
rent is #e;d4 per lug or perch1 and each
 occupier on becoming a tenant receives 
a card on which the following rules are 
printed in large type3--                
,,lyddington ,,garden ,,allotments4     
,,rules ,,and ,,regulations4       #a4  
,the land shall be cultivated by the    
spade only1 and proper      attention   
shall be paid to its cultivation4       
#b4 ,no allotment1 or any part thereof1 
shall be under-let or      exchanged4   
#c4 ,the rent shall be due on the #ast  
of ,september in each year1 and         
shall be paid before the crop is taken  
off the ground4       #d4 ,all tenants  
shall maintain a character for morality 
and      sobriety1 and shall not        
frequent a public-house on the          
,sabbath-day4       #e4 ,if any tenant  
fail to pay his rent or to perform any  
of the      foregoing conditions he     
shall immediately forfeit his allotment1
      with his crop upon the same1 and  

the landlord or his agent shall         
take possession and enforce payment of  
the rent due by sale of the      crop or
 otherwise1 as in arrears of rent4      
,all the tenants are earnestly requested
 to attend regularly at the      ,house 
of ,god during the times of ,divine     
,service1 with their      families1 to  
the best of their abilities4   ,the     
object of ,rule #b is to enable the     
landlord to retain a certain amount of  
influence over the tenant1 to bring him 
in immediate contact with the tenant1   
and to keep the land itself under his   
control4 ,many occupiers endeavour to   
under-let their allotments1 which1 if   
permitted1 would entirely defeat the    
main object of the landlord1 besides    
complicating the already great labour of
 collecting the rents1 c4  ,rule #c     
prevents the produce of the allotment   
going to pay the public-house score2    
while the date on which the rent falls  
due is so adjusted as to enable the     
occupier to receive his money for       

harvest-work before paying it4  ,rule #d
 places a great restraint upon          
drunkenness and dissolute habits4 ,last 
year the ,rev4 ,h4 ,munn addressed a    
private circular to his tenants1 in     
which he says3--  ,sad reports have been
 brought to me lately of the conduct of 
some in the parish1 and among them1 ,i  
am sorry to say1 are tenants of the     
,allotment ,gardens4 ,such conduct is   
contrary to the rules on which the      
allotments are held1 and also contrary  
to the intentions of my predecessor in  
letting them out to the parishioners4   
,they are intended to improve the       
condition of the labourers and their    
families1 giving them employment in the 
summer evenings1 increasing their supply
 of food1 and withdrawing them from the 
influence of the public-house4 ,but when
 drinking habits are indulged all these 
benefits are lost1 and the allotments1  
which were intended to do the labourer  
good1 only increase his means of        
obtaining intoxicating drinks4  ,the    

landlord can1 of course1 exercise his   
discretion in enforcing ,rule #e--;can  
allow time for payment1 and in certain  
cases of misfortune1 such as the failure
 of the potato crop1 remit it entirely4 
,but this power must be sparingly used1 
otherwise every one would endeavour to  
find excuses for non-fulfilment of the  
contract4  ,the extent of the allotment 
is written on the back of the card of   
rules1 with the name of the tenant1     
thus3--,d4 ,hancock4--,lot #a1 ,lug #ae2
 rent #fs4 #c;d42 and each payment is   
receipted underneath1 with the date and 
initials of the landlord4  ,the present 
landlord has in no case disturbed or    
removed the tenants received by his     
predecessor1 but where land has fallen  
in he has endeavoured to arrange the    
extent of the new allotments made to    
suit the requirements of families1 and  
to allow of a sufficient crop of        
potatoes being grown for one season on  
one half of the allotment1 while the    
other half bears different vegetables1  

and vice versa for the next season1     
being the same thing as a rotation of   
crops4  ,the field has recently been    
drained at the joint cost of landlord   
and tenant4 ,the ,rev4 ,h4 ,munn        
provided the drain-pipes1 and the       
occupiers paid for the labour1 which    
latter came to ,l#h1 the amount being   
proportioned according to the size of   
each allotment4 ,the highest amount paid
 by any one tenant was1 ,i believe1 ,l#a
 7for #dh lug71 others going down to    
#as4  ,the rent at #e;d4 per lug or     
perch comes to ,l#c1 #fs4 #h;d4 per     
acre1 an amount which bears a proper    
relation to the rent of arable farming  
land1 when the labour of collecting so  
many small sums and other circumstances 
are taken into consideration4 ,the moral
 effect of the arrangement has been     
incalculable--as one old woman          
pertinently remarked1 ,we needn't steal 
now1 sir4 ,in the olden times the       
farmers' gardens were constantly subject
 to depredations4 ,the ordinary rate at 

which gardens are let in the            
neighbourhood is #f;d4 per lug4 ,at     
,swindon1 the nearest town 7#ab1jjj     
inhabitants71 there are large allotment 
fields let at #as4 #f;d4 per lug1 or    
,l#ab per acre1 and eagerly caught up at
 that price4 ,these allotments are      
rented by every class1 from labourers   
and mechanics to well-to-do tradesmen4  
,the very first desire of every         
agricultural labourer's heart is a      
garden1 and so strong is the feeling    
that ,i have known men apply for        
permission to cultivate the vacant space
 between the large double mounds of the 
hedges on some pasture farms1 and work  
hard at it despite the roots of the     
bushes and the thefts of the rooks4     
,the facts mentioned above only add one 
more to the numberless ways in which the
 noble clergy of the ,church of ,england
 have been silently labouring for the   
good of the people committed to their   
care for years before the agitators     
bestowed one thought on the agricultural

 poor4--,i am1 ,sir1 faithfully yours1  
,,richard ,,jefferies4  ,,coate ,,farm1 
,,swindon4   7,published in the ,times1 
,nov4 #bc1 #ahgb47     ,a ,,true ,,tale 
,,of ,,the ,,wiltshire ,,labourer4      
,now then--hold fast there--mind the    
furrow1 ,tim4 ,the man who was loading  
prepared himself for the shock1 and the 
waggon safely jolted over the furrow1   
and on between the wakes of light-brown 
hay1 crackling to the touch as if it    
would catch fire in the brilliant       
sunshine4 ,the pitchers1 one on each    
side1 stuck their prongs into the wakes 
and sent up great pitches1 clearing the 
ground rapidly1 through emulation1 for  
it was a point of honour to keep pace   
with each other4 ,tim1 the old man who  
had led the horses1 resumed his rake in 
the rear among the women1 who instantly 
began teasing the poor wretch4  ,tim1   
she's allus in the way1 said one1       
purposely hitching her rake in his4     
,thur--get away4  ,i shan't1 said ,tim1 
surly as crabbed age and incessant      

banter under a hot sun could make him4  
,now--mind1 thee's break th' rake4      
,they both pulled as hard as they       
dared--each expecting the other to give 
way1 for the master was in sight1 on    
horseback1 by the rick1 and a rake      
broken wantonly would bring a sharp     
reprimand4  ,go it1 ,sal6 cried the     
loader on the waggon hoarsely1 half     
choked with hay dust4 ,pull away6       
,pull1 ,tim6 cried one of the pitchers4 
,ha6 ha6 laughed two or three more      
women1 closing round as the girl gave a 
tug which nearly upset ,tim and broke   
half-a-dozen teeth out of his rake4     
,darn thee6 growled the old fellow4 ,the
 youngest of the girls at the same      
moment gave him a push under the arm    
with the end of her rake-handle4 ,it was
 the last straw which broke the back of 
,tim's temper4 ,swearing1 he dropped the
 rake and seized a prong1 and hobbled   
after the girl1 who danced away half in 
delight and half in terror4  ,i'll job  
this into thee--darn thee--if ,i can    

come near thee1 thee hussy6  ,the hussy 
let him come near1 and danced away again
 gracefully4 ,she was at once the most  
handsome and most impudent of his       
tormentors4 ,there's no saying whether  
the old man1 roused as he was and       
incensed beyond control1 might not      
really have jobbed1 i4e41 stabbed1 his  
prong at her1 had not one of the        
pitchers left his wake and rushed on    
him4  ,my eye6 shouted the loader1      
,absalom's at 'un6  ,absalom took ,tim  
by the shoulders and hurled him on the  
ground pretty heavily4 ,flinging the    
prong twenty yards away1 he threatened  
to knock his head off if he didn't let  
,madge alone4 ,old ,tim slowly got up   
and went off after his tool1 growling to
 himself1 while ,madge clung hold of    
,absalom's arm1 who1 turning round1     
kissed her4 ,the other women looked     
jealously on as she followed him back to
 his wake1 and kept close to him at his 
work4  ,madge was tall and slenderly    
made4 ,her limbs were more delicately   

proportioned than is usual among women  
accustomed to manual labour from        
childhood4 ,the rosy glow of health lit 
up her brown but clear cheek1 free from 
freckles and sun-spots4 ,her eyes1 black
 as sloes1 were fringed with long dark  
eyelashes which gave their glances an   
espiegle expression4 ,they were very    
wicked-looking eyes1 full of fun and    
mischief4 ,her dress1 open at the       
throat1 displayed a faultless neck1 but 
slightly sun-browned4 ,her curly        
dark-brown hair escaped in ringlets down
 her back4 ,a lovely nut-brown maid6    
,soft glances passed rapidly between    
,madge and ,absalom1 as she raked behind
 him4 ,they did not escape the jealous  
notice of the other women4 ,it was the  
last day of the hay-harvest--it was hay 
home that night4  ,harvest is a time of 
freedom1 but the last day resembles the 
ancient ,saturnalia1 or rather perhaps  
the vine season in ,italy1 when the     
grape-gatherers indulged their rude wit 
on every one who came near4 ,raillery   

and banter poured incessantly on ,madge 
and ,absalom1 who replied with equal    
freedom4  ,grin away1 shouted ,absalom  
at last1 half pleased1 half irritated1  
as he stuck his prong in the ground1 and
 seizing ,madge1 kissed her before them 
all4 ,thur--,i bean't ashamed on her6   
,ha6 ha6 ha6 ,hoorah6 shouted the men4  
,madge slipped away towards the rear1   
blushing scarlet4 ,so absorbed had they 
been as not to notice the approach of   
another waggon coming in the opposite   
direction1 which was now alongside4     
,seeing the kiss and hearing the laugh1 
one of the men1 following it1 shouted in
 a stentorian voice1 for which he was   
renowned--  ,darn my buttons if ,i won't
 have one of they6  ,in an instant he   
was over the wake and caught ,madge in  
his arms4 ,but she struggled and cried4 
,absalom was there in a moment4  ,go it1
 ,roaring ,billy6 shouted the followers 
of the other waggon4 ,but ,absalom shook
 him free1 and the girl darted away4    
,the two men stood fronting each other4 

,absalom was angry4 ,billy had had a    
trifle too much beer4 ,a quarrel was    
imminent1 and fists were doubled1 when  
the pitchers rushed up and separated    
them4  ,the last pitch was now flung up1
 and the women began to decorate the    
horses and the waggons with green       
boughs4  ,come on1 ,madge1 said         
,absalom1 we'll ride whoam2 and despite 
of much feminine shyness and many       
objections1 and after much trouble and  
blushing and rude jokes about legs1     
,madge was hoisted up1 and ,absalom     
followed her4 ,to the rickyard they rode
 in triumph among green boughs1 and to  
the rude chorus of a song4  ,at seven   
that evening the whole gang were        
collected in the farmer's great kitchen4
 ,a huge room it was1 paved with stone  
flags1 the walls whitewashed1 and the   
ceiling being the roof itself1 whose    
black beams were festooned with cobwebs4
 ,three or four tables had been arranged
 in a row1 and there was a strong smell 
of dinner from smoking joints4 ,absalom 

came in last4 ,he had spent some time in
 adorning himself in a white clean slop 
and new corduroys1 with a gay necktie   
and his grandfather's watch4 ,his face  
shone from a recent wash4 ,it was an    
open countenance1 which unconsciously   
prepossessed one in his favour4         
,light-blue or grey eyes1 which looked  
you straight in the face1 were          
overshadowed with rather thick eyebrows4
 ,his forehead was well proportioned1   
and crowned with a mass of curling      
yellow hair4 ,a profusion of whiskers   
hid his chin1 which perhaps in its shape
 indicated a character too easy and     
yielding4 ,his shoulders were broad2 his
 appearance one of great strength4 ,but 
his mouth had a sensual look4 ,absalom  
pushed in and out by ,madge4  ,what     
didst thee have to eat8 asked a crony of
 his afterwards4  ,aw1 said ,absalom1   
fetching a sigh at the remembrance of   
the good things4 ,fust ,i had a plate of
 rus beef1 then a plate of boiled beef2 
then ,i had one of boiled mutton1 and   

next one of roast mutton2 last1 bacon4  
,i found ,i couldn't git on at all wi'  
th' pudding1 but when the cheese and th'
 salad came1 didn't ,i pitch into that6 
,absalom's love did not spoil his       
appetite4  ,soon as the dishes were     
removed1 pipes were brought out and     
tankards sent on their rounds4 ,by this 
time poor old ,tim's weak brains were   
muddled1 and he was discovered leaning  
back against the wall and mumbling out  
the tag-end of an old song3--           
,on' ,humphry wi' his flail1      ,but  
,kitty she wur the charming ma-aid      
,to carry th' milking pa-ail6   ,this   
set them on singing1 and ,roaring ,billy
 insisted on bawling out at the top of  
his stentorian lungs the doleful ditty  
of ,lord ,bateman and his ,daughters1   
which ran to thirty verses1 and lasted  
half-an-hour4 ,hardly were the last     
words out of his mouth1 when an         
impatient wight struck up the ,leathern 
,bottel1 and heartily did they all join 
in the chorus1 down to where the ballad 

describes the married man wanting to    
beat his wife1 and using a glass bottle 
for the purpose1 which broke and let all
 the wine about3--        ,whereas it   
had been the ,leathern ,bottel1         
,the stopper been in he might banged    
away well1   without danger of creating 
an unanswerable argument in favour of   
leathern bottles4  ,by this time they   
were pretty well boozed4 ,a thick cloud 
of tobacco-smoke filled the kitchen4    
,heads were rolling about from side to  
side and arms stretched over the tables 
among the debris of broken pipes and in 
pools of spilt beer and froth4 ,despite 
these rude1 unromantic surroundings1    
,absalom and ,madge were leaning close  
against each other1 hand-in-hand1 almost
 silent1 but looking in each other's    
eyes4 ,what account takes passion of    
pipes or beer1 smoke or drunken men1 of 
snores and hoarse voices8 ,none3 they   
were oblivious of these things4         
,,chapter ,,ii4   ,a month after the hay
 home a gaily dressed party passed      

through the fields towards the village  
church4 ,absalom and ,madge went first1 
arm-in-arm2 followed by ,roaring ,billy1
 who was to give the bride away1 with   
his lady beside him4 ,behind these came 
two or three more couples1 and last of  
all1 toiling along by herself1 an old   
woman1 bent nearly double2 it was       
,madge's mother4 ,with laugh and light  
jest they pushed on merrily over the    
stiles and through the brown autumn     
grass1 covered with a lacework of       
cobwebs4 ,the ceremony passed off well  
enough1 except that ,billy1 as best-man1
 made the old arches of the church echo 
again with his response4  ,absalom had  
taken a cottage of ,farmer ,humphreys4  
,i'd 'ave sooner had 'un of anybody     
else1 said he1 but thur war nur anuther 
to be had1 and it bean't such a bad 'un 
nither1 only ,measter ,humphreys be     
hardish in the mouth4 ,by the which he  
meant that ,humphreys had the reputation
 of being rather harsh in his dealings  
with his workpeople4 ,the cottage       

itself1 however1 was pleasant enough to 
look upon1 half thatched and half       
slated1 with a narrow strip of          
flower-garden in front full of          
hollyhocks1 sun-flowers1 and            
wall-flowers1 enclosed in a high        
elder-hedge4 ,besides which1 the        
occupier had a prescriptive right1 by   
custom1 to a patch of potato ground in  
the allotments about a mile up the road4
 ,and half-a-dozen damson-trees         
overshadowed the back of the cottage1   
their branches coquetting with the roof 
when the wind blew4  ,here the bridal   
party made a hearty dinner1 and grew    
jolly and genial afterwards over several
 gallons of beer ordered from the ,good 
,woman inn3 a sign which represented a  
woman minus a head1 and therefore       
silent4 ,it was the end of the harvest1 
and ,absalom had plenty of money in his 
pocket3 a week's holiday was therefore  
indispensable4 ,the imbibing so much    
beer left a taste in the mouth next     
morning3 this must be washed away by a  

visit to the barrel4 ,then there was a  
stroll to the top of a high hill in the 
neighbourhood1 and as it was very hot1  
the party was obliged to wet their      
whistles and wash the dust out of their 
throats at every sign on the road1 there
 and back2 always backed up with a      
second glass for the good of the house4 
,the week wore on1 and by ,saturday     
,absalom had thoroughly emancipated     
himself from the traces of control4     
,saturday evening brought a company     
together at the ,good ,woman1 whom it   
behoved him to treat4 ,gallon after     
gallon was disposed of2 ,absalom1 as the
 hero of the evening1 rising higher and 
higher in his own estimation with every 
glass4 ,at length a rude jest led to a  
blow4 ,absalom had his coat off in an   
instant1 and felled ,roaring ,billy like
 an ox4 ,a row began4 ,the landlord1    
jealous of his license1 turned them all 
out into the road1 when one or two1     
overcome by the fresh air on top of so  
much liquor1 quietly laid down in the   

dust4 ,absalom1 mad with drink and      
vanity1 hit out right and left1 and     
piled up three half-stupefied fellows on
 top of each other1 then1 shouting--    
,i'm the king of the castle6   stood up 
in the middle of the road1 and          
brandishing his arms1 challenged all    
comers4  ,at that moment a pair of      
ponies dashed round the corner and      
suddenly stopped--obstructed by         
half-a-dozen men lying in the way4 ,a   
tall gentleman1 with a very broad       
forehead1 a very small nose1 and a      
profusion of grey beard1 sprang out1 and
 went up to the landlord1 who stood at  
the door4  ,johnson1 said he sharply1   
this is disgraceful4 ,what's that       
fellow's name8 pointing to ,absalom4    
,the landlord of course didn't know--was
 very sorry4  ,i can tell 'ee1 zur1 said
 a voice1 almost a childish treble1 and 
old ,tim crept out from whence he had   
been sipping up the forsaken goblets4   
,it be ,absalom ,white--it be4  ,very   
good1 said the ,reverend ,j4 ,horton1   

and resuming his seat1 drove on2 while  
,absalom1 shouting and staggering1      
marched down the road1 imagining he had 
carried all before him4  ,the ,reverend 
,j4 ,horton was the owner of the        
allotment grounds1 which he had broken  
up from the glebe land with the idea of 
benefiting the poor4 ,every tenant      
received a circular of rules which were 
to be observed4 ,foremost amongst these 
was a rule against fighting and         
drinking4 ,absalom next week received an
 intimation that he must give up his    
allotment4 ,he swore1 and said it didn't
 matter a cuss1 it was autumn1 and the  
crop was up1 and he'd warrant he'd get  
another piece before spring somewhere4  
,but ,madge cried1 for her mother had   
prophesied evil from this offending of  
the gentle-folk4 ,absalom kissed her and
 went to his work4  ,madge1 despite     
these things1 was happy enough4 ,her    
education had not taught her to expect  
great things4 ,she went forth to her    
work in the morning with a light heart4 

,merry as a cricket1 she forgot in the  
sunshine all the ominous forebodings of 
her feeble old mother4 ,it so chanced1  
however1 that ,absalom's master could   
not find her employment at that season1 
and she therefore worked on a farm at a 
little distance4 ,madge saw little of   
,absalom1 except at night1 and then he  
was tired and went early to bed4 ,her   
restless spirit could not be satisfied  
with so little companionship4 ,naturally
 fond of admiration1 she thought no harm
 of talking and joking with the men1 and
 her gossips encouraged her in it4 ,the 
very same gossips reported her freedom  
to ,absalom--very much exaggerated4     
,absalom said nothing4 ,he was slow to  
understand any new idea4 ,on her road   
home from her work ,madge had to come   
down a lane with but one solitary       
cottage in it4 ,it belonged to an       
itinerant tinker1 his own property1 only
 paying quit-rent of a shilling a year4 
,he was a bachelor1 a gipsy sort of     
fellow1 full of fun and rollicksome     

mirth1 better educated than the         
labourers1 and with a store of original 
ideas which he had acquired in          
travelling about4 ,this                 
fellow--,bellows1 as he was             
called--admired ,madge exceedingly1 and 
had tried to win her for himself1 but   
failed4 ,still1 what pretty woman was   
ever displeased with the attentions of a
 smart young fellow8 ,after her marriage
 ,bellows courted her more and more4 ,it
 became a talk1 as the country people   
call it4 ,madge1 thinking her title as  
wife exonerated her from all remarks1   
perhaps allowed him to go further than  
she ought1 but1 in strict earnestness1  
meant no harm4 ,these things came to    
,absalom's ears4 ,he grew fonder and    
fonder of the public-house4 ,still1 at  
home he said nothing4  ,it grew to be   
winter4 ,one cold1 frosty1 but beautiful
 moonlight night ,absalom came home late
 from his work4 ,he had been sent up on 
the hills with some sheep1 and did not  
return till two hours after his usual   

time4 ,weary and hungry1 and not in the 
best of tempers1 he walked in4 ,the door
 was ajar1 and there were some embers on
 the hearth1 but ,madge was neither in  
sight nor call4 ,eager for his supper1  
,absalom went out1 and soon learned that
 she had gone up to the ,good ,woman4   
,madge indeed1 finding he did not come  
home1 had gone up there to look for him4
 ,bellows was there1 and the landlord   
and he had been drinking pretty freely4 
,no sooner did ,madge come in than the  
landlord blew out the candle1 slipped   
out1 and locked the door with a loud    
guffaw1 leaving the pair alone in the   
dark4 ,unable to escape1 ,madge sat     
down1 and they chatted away gaily       
enough4  ,it was thus that ,absalom     
found them4 ,he said nothing when he    
learnt where ,madge was1 but left the   
house and walked back to the cottage4   
,alarmed at his sullen demeanour1 the   
landlord unlocked the door4 ,madge flew 
back to the cottage4  ,ab1 said she1    
rushing in with an armful of sticks to  

make a blaze1 you'll want your supper4  
,the reply was a blow which doubled her 
up in a corner senseless4  ,absalom sat 
for a while sullenly glowering over the 
embers1 and then went to bed1 leaving   
,madge sobbing on the bare1 hard earthen
 floor4 ,it was midnight before she     
crept to his side4  ,early in the       
morning ,absalom got up and dressed4    
,madge was sleeping soundly1 a dark     
circle under each eye2 she had cried    
herself to sleep4 ,he went out and left 
her4     ,,chapter ,,iii4   ,six weeks  
passed1 and ,absalom did not return4    
,madge went over to her mother4 ,he     
bean't come1 she said1 beginning to cry4
  ,i knowed a wassn't1 said the old     
woman1 rocking herself to and fro in her
 low rush-bottomed chair1 with her feet 
on the hearth1 almost among the ashes4  
,thee's soon have to look out for       
theeself4  ,how1 mother8  ,cos ,i'm     
going to die4  ,mother6  ,i be goin' to 
die1 repeated the old woman in the same 
calm1 hard tone4 ,a life of incessant   

labour had crushed all sentiment out of 
her--except superstition--and she faced 
the hard facts of existence without     
emotion4  ,madge began to weep4  ,thee  
go and shut up the cottage1 wench1 and  
come and bide wi' ,i4  ,madge did so4   
,in a few days the old woman took to her
 bed4 ,she had it dragged out of the    
next room--there was but one floor--and 
placed near the fire1 which was         
constantly kept up4 ,madge waited on her
 assiduously when she was not out of    
doors at field-work4 ,work was growing  
scarcer and scarcer as the winter       
advanced4 ,the old woman slowly grew    
weaker and weaker1 till ,madge could    
leave her no longer4 ,so she stayed at  
home1 and so lost the little employment 
she had4 ,one evening1 when the         
firelight was growing low and dark      
shadows were flickering over the        
ceiling1 the old woman seemed to recover
 a little strength1 and sat up in bed4  
,madge6  ,yes1 mother4  ,thee must      
promise ,i one thing4  ,what be it1     

mother8  ,as thee won't have ,i buried  
by the parish4  ,madge began to cry4    
,dost thee hear8  ,i won't4  ,a long    
silence4  ,madge6  ,yes1 mother4  ,thee 
go to the fire4 ,dost thee see that     
brick in the chimbley as sticks out a   
little way8  ,yes4  ,pull it out4       
,madge caught hold1 and after a few tugs
 pulled the brick out4  ,put thee hand  
in6  ,madge thrust hand and arm into the
 cavity1 and brought out a dirty        
stocking4  ,has thee got th' stocking8  
,yes1 mother4  ,bury ,i wi' wots in     
thur1 and take care o' the rest on't4   
,thee's want it bad enough afore th'    
spring comes4  ,madge replaced the      
stocking without examining it4 ,she was 
heavy at heart4  ,before morning her    
mother was dead4  ,madge went back to   
her own cottage1 carrying with her just 
a sovereign in sixpences and            
fourpenny-bits4 ,she sat down and wept4 
,no one came near her4 ,her former      
gossips1 always jealous of her beauty1  
left her alone with her sorrow4 ,but she

 knew that she could not remain idle4   
,something must be done4 ,so she went   
out to rick-work1 but there was none to 
be had4 ,from farm to farm ,madge       
wearily toiled along1 meeting the same  
answer everywhere--,had got more on now 
than they could find work for4 ,madge   
felt exceedingly ill as she slowly      
wended her way homewards4 ,then for the 
first time she remembered that she must 
shortly become a mother4  ,in her weak  
state ,madge caught cold4 ,she shivered 
incessantly4 ,the poor child could not  
rise from her bed in the morning1 her   
limbs were so stiff and her head so bad4
 ,she lay there all day1 crying to      
herself4 ,hunger at last1 towards       
evening1 compelled her to get up and    
seek food4 ,there was only a piece of   
crust in the cupboard and a little lard4
 ,she was trying to masticate these when
 there came a tap at the door4 ,come in1
 said ,madge4 ,farmer ,humphreys now    
appeared in the doorway4 ,he was a      
short1 thick man1 with a shock-head of  

yellow hair1 small grey eyes1 and lips  
almost blue4  ,there be ten weeks' rent 
a-owing1 said he1 sitting down2 and we  
don't mean to wait no longer4 ,and      
there's a half-side o' bacon an' a load 
of faggots4  ,how much is it altogether8
  ,seventeen-and-six4  ,i ain't a-got   
but a pound1 and ,absalom bean't come   
whoam4  ,the vagabond--cuss 'im6  ,a    
bean't no vagabond1 cried ,madge1 firing
 up in defence of her husband4  ,bist   
thee a-goin' to pay--or bisn't8 said the
 fellow1 beginning to bully4  ,madge    
counted him out the money1 and he left1 
casting an ugly leer on her as he went4 
,half-a-crown remained4 ,on that        
half-crown ,madge lived for one whole   
month4 ,the cold clung to her and grew  
worse4 ,her tongue burned and her limbs 
shook2 it was fever as well as          
cold--that low aguish fever1 the curse  
of the poor4 ,bread and lard day by day1
 bread and lard1 and a little weak tea4 
,and at the month's end the half-crown  
was gone3 sixpence went for her last    

half-dozen faggots4 ,madge crawled      
upstairs and wrapped herself up in a    
blanket1 sitting on the side of the bed4
 ,it was her miserable loneliness which 
troubled the poor child most4 ,her      
cough1 and the cold1 and want of food   
and firing1 might have been borne had   
there been some one to talk to4 ,but    
alone they did their work4 ,her form was
 dreadfully shrunken1 her hands as thin 
and bony as those her old mother last   
stretched over the fire4 ,the ale-house 
which had absorbed her husband's        
earnings sent her no aid in this time of
 distress1 and he had offended the      
clergyman who would otherwise have found
 her out4 ,it grew dusky1 as the poor   
creature sat on the edge of the bed4    
,suddenly there was a hand on the latch 
of the door downstairs4 ,madge trembled 
with eagerness as a heavy step sounded  
on the floor--could it be ,absalom8 ,her
 black eyes1 looking larger from the    
paleness of her sunken cheeks1 began to 
blaze with a new light4 ,the steps came 

to the foot of the stairs and began     
ascending4 ,she listened eagerly4 ,a    
head of yellow hair came up through the 
trap-door1 and the small grey eyes of   
young ,humphreys leered on her4         
,disappointed and amazed1 ,madge        
remained silent4 ,humphreys came up and 
sat on the bed beside her4  ,thee's got 
thin1 he said1 with a sort of chuckle4  
,like some grub1 wouldn't ye8  ,no      
answer4 ,he put his hand on her shoulder
 and muttered something in her ear4     
,madge seemed scarcely to understand    
him1 but sat staring wildly4  ,i'll give
 thee sixpence1 said ,humphreys1 showing
 one4  ,then a full sense of his        
dishonourable intentions1 mingled with  
shame and disgust at his unutterable    
meanness1 came over ,madge1 and rising  
with a flush on her cheek1 she struck   
him with all her might4 ,it was a feeble
 blow1 but he was unprepared3 it        
over-balanced him2 he staggered         
backwards1 and fell heavily down the    
stairs4 ,madge1 her heart beating       

painfully fast1 leaned back on the bed  
and listened4 ,there was not a sound4 ,a
 dreadful thought that he might be      
killed flashed across her mind4 ,her    
impulse was to go down and see1 but her 
strength failed1 and she sat down again 
and waited4 ,it seemed hours before she 
heard him stir and1 after a noise like a
 great dog shaking himself1 with mingled
 curses and threats1 leave the house4   
,then a great pain came over her4 ,she  
felt as if she should die1 but the      
greatest dread was the dread of         
loneliness4 ,she staggered to the window
 and looked out4 ,a boy was passing1 and
 she told him to go to ,mrs4 ,green's   
and send her down4 ,then she fell on the
 bed in a faint1 with the window open   
and the cold1 bitter1 biting east wind  
blowing in4  ,it was half a mile to     
,mrs4 ,green's--one of ,madge's old     
gossips4 ,the boy got there in two      
hours4 ,mrs4 ,green was putting her baby
 to bed1 but instantly transferred that 
duty to her eldest girl1 and went off   

eager for news4  ,at nine that night the
 ,good ,woman inn resounded with talk of
 ,madge4 ,not a bit nor a drop was there
 in the house1 according to ,mrs4       
,green4 ,the landlord said ,absalom owed
 him two shillings unpaid score3 he     
could forgive her the debt1 but he      
couldn't give nothing4 ,mrs4 ,green went
 home for her supper1 and returning1    
found ,madge conscious4 ,she would not  
have the parish doctor4  ,bellows1 the  
tinker1 had during these late months    
been out on an itinerant journey4 ,he   
came home that night1 and at the ,good  
,woman heard the news4 ,his quick wit   
put him up to a plan to serve the poor  
girl4 ,early in the morning he took his 
pack and went through the village up to 
the ,rev4 ,mr4 ,horton's4 ,there1 under 
pretence of asking for kettles to mend1 
he told the most dismal tale to the     
housemaid4 ,at breakfast-time this was  
reported to ,mrs4 ,horton4 ,distress at 
such a time was sufficient to engage any
 lady's attention4 ,mrs4 ,horton was a  

frail1 tender woman1 but earnest in     
works of charity4 ,the ponies were      
ordered1 and down they drove4 ,the tale 
was not overdrawn4 ,not a crust in the  
cupboard--not a stick to light a fire3  
the poor creature starved1 and--and--you
 know1 coming1 said the good lady       
afterwards1 describing the scene4 ,john 
drove after the doctor instantly1 and ,i
 stayed4 ,poor girl6 ,it was still-born2
 and she1 poor thing6 we saw1 could not 
live long4  ,madge1 indeed1 died the    
same night1 totally worn out at         
nineteen4   ,and ,absalom8 ,he had gone 
to work on a distant railway as a navvy1
 and1 earning good wages and able to    
enjoy himself nightly at the taverns1   
forgot poor ,madge4 ,months went on4    
,news travels slowly among the poor1 but
 at last intelligence did reach him that
 his mother was dead and ,madge         
starving4 ,to do him justice1 he had    
never thought of that1 and he started at
 once for home1 travelling on foot4 ,but
 passing through a village with his     

bundle on his shoulders1 he was arrested
 by a policeman who observed some blood 
on it4 ,it was on the slop he had worn  
in the fight at the ,good ,woman1 and   
came only from the nose4 ,but there had 
been a brutal murder in the             
neighbourhood1 the public mind was      
excited1 and ,absalom was remanded for  
inquiries4 ,it took a fortnight to prove
 his identity1 and by then ,madge was   
dead4  ,absalom went back to the railway
 and drank harder than ever4 ,it was    
observed that he drank now by himself   
and for drinking's sake1 whereas before 
he had only been fond of liquor with    
company4 ,after a year he found his way 
back home4 ,madge was forgotten1 and he 
easily got work4 ,likely young men are  
not so common on farms3 strict inquiries
 are rarely made4  ,the last that was   
heard of him appeared in the local      
newspaper3--  ,,drunk ,,and             
,,disorderly4--,absalom ,white was      
brought up in custody1 charged with     
obstructing the road while in a state of

 intoxication4 ,fined five shillings and
 seven-and-six costs4     ,,part ,,ii4  
,,the ,,coming ,,of ,,summer4   ,the    
,june sky is of the deepest blue when   
seen above the fresh foliage of the oaks
 in the morning before the sun has      
filled the heavens with his meridian    
light4 ,to see the blue at its best it  
needs something to form a screen so that
 the azure may strike the eye with its  
fulness undiminished by its own beauty2 
for if you look at the open sky such a  
breadth of the same hue tones itself    
down4 ,but let the eye rise upwards     
along a wall of oak spray1 then at the  
rim the rich blue is thick1 quite thick1
 opaque1 and steeped in luscious colour4
 ,unless1 indeed1 upon the high         
downs1--there the ,june sky is too deep 
even for the brilliance of the light1   
and requires no more screen than the    
hand put up to shade the eyes4 ,these   
level plains by the ,thames are         
different1 and here ,i like to see the  
sky behind and over an oak4  ,about     

,surbiton the oaks come out into leaf   
earlier than in many places2 this       
spring#b there were oak-leaves appearing
 on ,april #bd1 yet so backward are some
 of them that1 while all the rest were  
green1 there were two in the hedge of a 
field by the ,ewell road still dark     
within ten days of ,june4 ,they looked  
dark because their trunks and boughs    
were leafless against a background of   
hawthorn1 elm1 and other trees in full  
foliage1 the clover flowering under     
them1 and ,may bloom on the hedge4 ,they
 were black as winter1 and even now1 on 
the #ast of ,june1 the leaves are not   
fully formed4 ,the trees flowered in    
great perfection this spring2 many oaks 
were covered with their green pendants1 
and they hung from the sycamores4       
,except the chestnuts1 whose bloom can  
hardly be overlooked1 the flowering of  
the trees is but little noticed2 the elm
 is one of the earliest1 and becomes    
ruddy--it is as early as the catkins on 
the hazel2 willow1 aspen1 oak1 sycamore1

 ash1 all have flower or catkin--even   
the pine1 whose fructification is very  
interesting4 ,the pines or ,scotch firs 
by the ,long ,ditton road hang their    
sweeping branches to the verge of the   
footpath1 and the new cones1 the sulphur
 farina1 and the fresh shoots are easily
 seen4 ,the very earliest oak to put    
forth its flowers is in a garden on ,oak
 ,hill2 it is green with them1 while yet
 the bitter winds have left a sense of  
winter in the air4  ,there is a broad   
streak of bright-yellow charlock--in the
 open arable field beyond the ,common4  
,it lights up the level landscape2 the  
glance falls on it immediately4 ,field  
beans are in flower1 and their scent    
comes sweet even through the dust of the
 ,derby ,day4 ,red heads of trifolium   
dot the ground2 the vetches have long   
since been out1 and are so still2 along 
the hedges parsley forms a white fringe4
 ,the charlock seems late this year2 it 
is generally up well before ,june--the  
first flowers by the roadside or        

rickyard1 in a waste dry corner4 ,such  
dry waste places send up plants to      
flower1 such as charlock and poppy1     
quicker than happens in better soil1 but
 they do not reach nearly the height or 
size4 ,the field beans are short from   
lack of rain2 there are some reeds in   
the ditch by them1 and these too are    
short2 they have not half shot up yet1  
for the same reason4 ,on the sward by   
the ,long ,ditton road the goat's-beard 
is up2 it grows to some size there every
 season1 but is not very common         
elsewhere4 ,it is said to close its     
sepals at noon1 and was therefore called
 ,jack-go-to-bed-at-noon1 but in fact it
 shuts much earlier1 and often does not 
open at all1 and you may pass twenty    
times and not see it open4 ,its head is 
like that of the dandelion1 and children
 blow it to see what's o'clock in the   
same way4 ,it forms a large ball1 and   
browner2 dandelion seed-balls are white4
 ,the grass is dotted with them now2    
they give a glossy1 silky appearance to 

the meadows4 ,tiny pink geranium flowers
 show on bunches of dusty grass2 silver 
weed lays its yellow buttercup-like     
flower on the ground1 placing it in the 
angle of the road and the sward1 where  
the sward makes a ridge4 ,cockspur      
grass--three claws and a spur like a    
cock's foot--is already whitened with   
pollen2 already in comparison1 for the  
grasses are late to lift their heads    
this summer4 ,as the petals of the ,may 
fall the young leaves appear1 small and 
green1 to gradually enlarge through the 
hay-time4  ,a slight movement of the    
leaves on a branch of birch shows that  
something living is there1 and presently
 the little head and neck of a          
whitethroat peers over them1 and then   
under1 looking above and beneath each   
leaf1 and then with a noiseless motion  
passing on to the next4 ,another        
whitethroat follows immediately1 and    
there is not a leaf forgotten nor a     
creeping thing that can hide from them4 
,every tree and every bush is visited by

 these birds1 and others of the         
insect-feeders2 the whole summer's day  
they are searching1 and the caterpillar1
 as it comes down on a thread1 slipping 
from the upper branches1 only drops into
 their beaks4 ,birds1 too1 that at other
 periods feed on grain and seed1 now    
live themselves1 and bring up their     
young1 upon insects4  ,i went to look   
over a gate to see how the corn was     
rising--it is so short1 now in ,june1   
that it will not hide a hare--and on    
coming near there was a cock chaffinch  
perched on the top1 a fine bird in full 
colour4 ,he did not move though ,i was  
now within three yards1 nor till ,i     
could have almost touched him did he    
fly2 he had a large caterpillar in his  
beak1 and no doubt his nest or the young
 from it were in the hedge4 ,in feeding 
the young birds the old ones always     
perch first at a short distance1 and    
after waiting a minute proceed to their 
fledgelings4 ,should a blackbird come at
 full speed across the meadow and stay  

on a hedge-top1 and then go down into   
the mound1 it is certain that his nest  
is there4 ,if a thrush frequents a tree1
 flying up into the branches for a      
minute and then descending into the     
underwood1 most likely the young        
thrushes are there4  ,little indeed do  
the birds care for appropriate          
surroundings2 anything does for them1   
they do not aim at effect4 ,i heard a   
tit-lark singing his loudest1 and found 
him perched on the edge of a tub1 formed
 of a barrel sawn in two1 placed in the 
field for the horses to drink from1 as  
there was no pond4 ,some swallows are   
very fond of a notice-board fastened to 
a pole beside the ,hogsmill bank4 ,upon 
its upper edge they perch and twitter   
sweetly4 ,there is a muddy pond by      
,tolworth ,farm1 near the road2 it is   
muddy because a herd of cows drink from 
and stand in it1 stirring up the bottom4
 ,an elm overhangs it1 and the lower    
boughs are dead and leafless4 ,on these 
there are always swallows twittering    

over the water4 ,grey and yellow        
wagtails run along the verge4 ,in the   
morning the flock of goslings who began 
to swim in the pond1 now grown large and
 grey1 arrange themselves in a double   
row1 some twenty or thirty of them1 in  
loose order1 tuck their bills under     
their wings and sleep4 ,two old birds   
stand in the rear as if in command of   
the detachment4 ,a sow1 plastered with  
mud like the rhinoceri in the ,african  
lakes1 lies on the edge of the brown    
water1 so nearly the hue of the water   
and the mire1 and so exactly at their   
juncture1 as to be easily overlooked4   
,but the sweet summer swallows sing on  
the branches2 they do not see the       
wallowing animal1 they see only the     
sunshine and the summer1 golden         
buttercups and blue sky4  ,in the hollow
 at ,long ,ditton ,i had the delight1 a 
day or two since1 to see a kingfisher4  
,there is a quiet lane1 and at the      
bottom1 in a valley1 two ponds1 one in  
enclosed grounds1 the other in a meadow 

opposite4 ,standing there a minute to   
see if there was a martin among the     
birds with which the pond in the grounds
 is thickly covered1 something came     
shooting straight towards me1 and       
swerving only a yard or two to pass me1 
a kingfisher went by4 ,his blue wings1  
his ruddy front1 the white streak beside
 his neck1 and long bill1 were all      
visible for a moment2 then he was away  
straight over the meadow1 the directness
 of his course enabling it to be        
followed for some time till he cleared  
the distant hedge1 probably going to    
visit his nest4 ,kingfishers1 though    
living by the stream1 often build a good
 way from water4 ,the months have       
lengthened into years since ,i saw one  
here before1 sitting on the trunk of a  
willow which bends over the pond in the 
mead4 ,the tree rises out of the water  
and is partly in it2 it is hung with    
moss1 and the kingfisher was on the     
trunk within a foot or so of the        
surface4 ,after that there came severe  

winters1 and till now ,i did not see    
another here4 ,so that the bird came    
upon me unexpectedly out from the shadow
 of the trees that overhang the water1  
past me1 and on into the sunshine over  
the buttercups and sorrel of the field4 
,this hollow at ,long ,ditton is the    
very place of singing birds2 never was  
such a place for singing--the valley is 
full of music4 ,in the oaks blackbirds  
whistle4 ,you do not often see them2    
they are concealed by the thick foliage 
up on high1 for they seek the top       
branches1 which are more leafy2 but once
 now and then they quietly flutter      
across to another perch4 ,the           
blackbird's whistle is very human1 like 
a human being playing the flute2 an     
uncertain player1 now drawing forth a   
bar of a beautiful melody and then      
losing it again4 ,he does not know what 
quiver or what turn his note will take  
before it ends2 the note leads him and  
completes itself4 ,it is a song which   
strives to express the singer's keen    

delight1 the singer's exquisite         
appreciation of the loveliness of the   
days2 the golden glory of the meadow1   
the light1 the luxurious shadows1 the   
indolent clouds reclining on their azure
 couch4 ,such thoughts can only be      
expressed in fragments1 like a          
sculptor's chips thrown off as the      
inspiration seizes him1 not mechanically
 sawn to a set line4 ,now and again the 
blackbird feels the beauty of the time1 
the large white daisy stars1 the grass  
with yellow-dusted tips1 the air which  
comes so softly unperceived by any      
precedent rustle of the hedge1 the water
 which runs slower1 held awhile by      
rootlet1 flag1 and forget-me-not4 ,he   
feels the beauty of the time and he must
 say it4 ,his notes come like wild      
flowers1 not sown in order4 ,the        
sunshine opens and shuts the stops of   
his instrument4 ,there is not an oak    
without a blackbird1 and there are      
others afar off in the hedges4 ,the     
thrushes sing louder here than anywhere2

 they really seem to have louder notes2 
they are all round4 ,thrushes appear to 
vary their songs with the period of the 
year2 they sing loudly now1 but more    
plaintively and delicately in the       
autumn4 ,warblers and willow wrens sing 
out of sight among the trees2 they are  
easily hidden by a leaf2 ivy-leaves are 
so smooth1 with an enamelled surface1   
that high up1 as the wind moves them1   
they reflect the sunlight and           
scintillate4 ,greenfinches in the elms  
never cease love-making1 and love-making
 needs much soft talking4 ,there is a   
nightingale in a bush by the lane which 
sings so loud the hawthorn seems to     
shake with the vigour of his song2 too  
loud1 though a nightingale1 if you stand
 at the verge of the boughs1 as he would
 let you without alarm2 farther away it 
becomes sweet and softer4 ,yellowhammers
 call from the trees up towards the     
arable fields4 ,there are but a few of  
them3 it is the place of singing birds4 
,the doves in the copse are nearer the  

house this year2 ,i see them more often 
in the field at the end of the garden4  
,as the dove rises the white fringe on  
the tip of the tail becomes visible1    
especially when flying up into a tree4  
,one afternoon one flew up into a       
hornbeam close to the garden1 beside it 
in fact1 and perched there full in view1
 not twenty yards at farthest4 ,at first
 he sat upright1 raising his neck and   
watching us in the garden2 then1 in a   
minute or so1 turned and fluttered down 
to his nest4 ,the wood-pigeons are more 
quiet now2 their whoo-hoo-ing is not so 
frequently heard4 ,by the sounds up in  
the elms at the top of the ,brighton    
road 7at the end of ,langley ,lane7 the 
young rooks have not yet all flown1     
though it is the end of the first week  
in ,june4 ,there is a little pond near  
the rookeries1 and by it a row of elms4 
,from one of these a heavy bough has    
just fallen without the least apparent  
cause4 ,there is no sign of lightning1  
nor does it even look decayed2 the wood 

has fractured short off2 it came down   
with such force that the ends of the    
lesser branches are broken and turned   
up1 though1 as it was the lowest limb1  
it had not far to fall1 showing the     
weight of the timber4 ,there has been no
 hurricane of wind1 nothing at all to   
cause it1 yet this thick bough snapped4 
,no other tree is subject to these      
dangerous falls of immense limbs1       
without warning or apparent cause1 so   
that it is not safe to rest under elms4 
,an accident might not occur once in ten
 years2 nevertheless the risk is there4 
,elms topple over before gales which    
scarcely affect other trees1 or only    
tear off a few twigs4 ,two have thus    
been thrown recently--within eighteen   
months--in the fields opposite ,tolworth
 ,farm4 ,the elm drags up its own roots1
 which are often only a fringe round its
 butt1 and leaves a hollow in the earth1
 as if it had been simply stood on end  
and held by these guy-ropes4 ,other     
trees do1 indeed1 fall in course of     

time1 but not till they are obviously on
 the point of tottering1 but the elm    
goes down in full pride of foliage4 ,by 
this pond there is a rough old oak1     
which is the peculiar home of some      
titmice2 they were there every day1 far 
back on the frost and snow1 and their   
sharp notes sounded like some one       
chipping the ice on the horse-pond with 
an iron instrument4 ,probably1 before   
now1 they have had a nest in a crevice4 
,the tallest grass yet to be seen is in 
a little orchard on the right-hand side 
of the ,long ,ditton road4 ,this little 
orchard is a favourite spot of mine1    
meaning1 of course1 to look at3 it is a 
natural orchard and left to itself4 ,the
 palings by the road are falling1 and   
held up chiefly by the brambles and the 
ivy that has climbed up them4 ,there are
 trees on the left and trees on the     
right2 a fine spruce fir at the back4   
,the apple-trees are not set in straight
 lines2 they were at first1 but some    
have died away and left an irregularity4

 ,the trees themselves lean this way and
 that2 they are scarred and marked1 as  
it were1 with lichen and moss4 ,it is   
the home of birds4 ,a blackbird had a   
nest this spring in the bushes on the   
left side1 a nightingale in the bushes  
on the right side1 and there he sang and
 sang for hours every morning4 ,a sharp1
 relentless shrike lives in one of the  
trees close by1 and is perpetually      
darting across the road upon insects on 
the sward among the fern there4 ,there  
are several thrushes who reside in this 
orchard besides the lesser birds4       
,swallows sometimes twitter from the    
tops of the apple-trees4 ,as the grass  
is so safe from intrusion1 one of the   
earliest buttercups flowers here4 ,the  
apple-bloom appears rosy on the bare    
boughs only lately scourged by the east 
wind4 ,after a time the trees are in    
full bloom1 set about into the green of 
the hedges and bushes and the dark      
spruce behind4 ,bennets1 the flower of  
the grass1 come up4 ,the first bennet is

 to green things what a swallow is to   
the breathing creatures of summer4      
,white horse-chestnut blooms stand up in
 their stately way1 lighting the path1  
which is strewn with fallen oak-flower4 
,may appears on the hawthorn3 there is  
an early bush of it4 ,now the grass is  
so high the flowers are lost under it2  
even the buttercups are overtopped2 and 
soon as the young apples take form and  
shape white bramble-bloom will cover the
 bushes by the palings4 ,acorns will    
show on the oaks3 the berries will ripen
 from red to black beneath4 ,along the  
edge of the path1 where the dandelions  
and plantains are thick with seed1 the  
greenfinches will come down and select  
those they like best3 this they often do
 by the footpath beside the road4       
,lastly1 the apples become red2 the     
beech in the corner has an orange spray1
 and cones hang long and brown upon the 
spruce4 ,the thrushes after silence sing
 again1 and autumn approaches4 ,but1    
pass when you may1 this little orchard  

has always something1 because it is left
 to itself--,i had written neglected4 ,i
 struck the word out1 for this is not   
neglect1 this is true attention1 to     
leave it to itself1 so that the young   
trees trail over the bushes and stay    
till the berries fall of their own      
over-ripeness1 if perchance spared by   
the birds2 so that the dead brown leaves
 lie and are not swept away unless the  
wind pleases2 so that all things follow 
their own course and bent4 ,almost      
opposite1 by autumn1 when the reapers   
are busy with the sheaves1 the hedge is 
white with the large trumpet-flowers of 
the greater convolvulus4 ,the hedgerow  
seems made of convolvulus then1 nothing 
but convolvulus2 nowhere else does the  
flower flourish so strongly1 and the    
bines remain till the following spring4 
,this little orchard1 without a path    
through it1 without a border1 or a      
parterre1 or a terrace1 is a place to   
sit down and dream in1 notwithstanding  
that it touches the road1 for thus left 

to itself it has acquired an atmosphere 
of peace and stillness such as belongs  
to and grows up in woods and far-away   
coombs of the hills4 ,a stray passer-by 
would go on without even noticing it1 it
 is so commonplace and unpretentious1   
merely a corner of meadow irregularly   
dotted with apple-trees2 a place that   
needs frequent glances and a dreamy mood
 to understand as the birds understand  
it4 ,they are always here1 even in the  
winter1 starlings and blackbirds        
particularly1 who resort to a kind of   
furrow there1 which1 even in frost1     
seems to afford them some food4 ,in the 
spring thrushes move along1 rustling the
 fallen leaves as they search behind the
 arum-sheaths unrolling beside the      
palings1 or under the shelter of the    
group of trees where arum-roots are     
plentiful4 ,there are nooks and corners 
from which shy creatures can steal out  
from the shadow and be happy4 ,the dew  
falls softly1 more noiseless than snow1 
and a star shines to the north over the 

spruce fir4 ,by day there is a loving   
streak of sunshine somewhere among the  
tree-trunks2 by night a star above4 ,the
 trees are nothing to speak of in size  
or height1 but they seem always to bloom
 well and to be fruitful2 tree-climbers 
run up these and then go off to the     
elms4  ,beside the ,long ,ditton road1  
up the gentle incline on the left side1 
the broad sward is broken by thickets   
and brake like those of a forest4 ,if a 
forest were cleared1 as those in        
,america are swept away before the axe1 
but a line of underwood left beside the 
highway1 the result would be much the   
same as may be seen here when the bushes
 and fern are in perfection4 ,thick     
hawthorn bushes stand at unequal        
distances surrounded with brake2 one    
with a young oak in the centre4 ,fern   
extends from one thicket to the other1  
and brambles fence the thorns1 which are
 themselves well around4 ,from such     
coverts the boar was started in old     
,english days1 the fawns hide behind and

 about them even now in many a fair     
park1 and where there are no deer they  
are frequented by hares4 ,so near the   
dust which settles on them as the wheels
 raise it1 of course1 every dog that    
passes runs through1 and no game could  
stay an hour1 but they are the exact    
kind of cover game like4 ,one morning   
this spring1 indeed1 ,i noticed a       
cock-pheasant calmly walking along the  
ridge of a furrow in the ploughed field1
 parted from these bushes by the hedge4 
,he was so near the highway that ,i     
could see the ring about his neck4 ,i   
have seen peewits or green plovers in   
the same field1 which is now about to be
 built on4 ,but though no game could    
stay an hour in such places1 lesser     
birds love them1 white-throats build    
there1 gold-crests come down from the   
dark pines opposite--they seem fond of  
pines--yellow-hammers sit and sing on   
them1 and they are visited all day long 
by one or other4 ,the little yellow     
flowers of tormentil are common in the  

grass as autumn approaches1 and         
grasshoppers1 which do not seem         
plentiful here1 sing there4 ,some betony
 flowers are opposite on the other      
sward4 ,there is a marshy spot by one of
 the bushes where among the rushes      
various semi-aquatic grasses grow4      
,blackberries are thick in favourable   
seasons--like all fruit1 they are an    
uncertain crop2 and hawkweeds are there 
everywhere on the sward towards the     
edge4 ,the peculiar green of fern1 which
 is more of a relief to the eye than any
 other shrub with which ,i am           
acquainted1 so much so that ,i wonder it
 is not more imitated1 is remarkable    
here when the burning ,july sun shines  
on the white dust thus fringed4 ,by then
 trees are gone off in colour1 the      
hedges are tired with heat1 but the fern
 is a soft green which holds the glance4
 ,this varies much with various seasons2
 this year the fern is particularly late
 from a lack of moisture1 but sometimes 
it is really beautiful between these    

bushes4 ,it is cut down in its full     
growth by those who have charge of the  
road1 and the scene is entirely         
destroyed for the remainder of the      
season2 it is not often that such bushes
 and such fern are found beside the     
highway1 and1 if not any annoyance to   
the residents1 are quite as worthy of   
preservation 7not preservation by       
beadle7 as open spaces like commons4    
,children1 and many of larger growth1   
revel about them1 gathering the flowers 
in spring and summer1 the grasses and   
the blackberries in autumn4 ,it is but a
 strip of sward1 but it is as wild as if
 in the midst of a forest4 ,a pleasure  
to every one--therefore destroy it4  ,in
 the evening from the rise of the road  
here ,i sometimes hear the cry of a barn
 owl skirting the hedge of ,southborough
 ,park1 and disappearing under the      
shadow of the elms that stand there4    
,the stars appear and the whole dome of 
the summer night is visible1 for in a   
level plain like this a slight elevation

 brings the horizon into view4 ,without 
moon the ,june nights are white2 a faint
 white light shows through the trees of 
,southborough ,park northwards2 the west
 has not lost all its tint over the     
,ditton hollow2 white flowers stand in  
the grass2 white road1 white flint-heaps
 even1 white clouds1 and the stars1 too1
 light without colour4  ,by day the     
breeze comes south and west1 free over  
fields1 over corn and grass and         
hedgerow2 so slight a mound as this mere
 rise in the river-side plain lifts you 
up into the current of the air4 ,where  
the wind comes the sunlight is purer4   
,the sorrel is now high and ripening in 
the little meadows beside the road just 
beyond the orchard4 ,as it ripens the   
meadow becomes red1 for the stalks rise 
above the grass4 ,this is the beginning 
of the feast of seeds4 ,the sorrel      
ripens just as the fledgelings are      
leaving the nest2 if you watch the      
meadow a minute you will see the birds  
go out to it1 now flying up a moment and

 then settling again4 ,after a while    
comes the feast of grain2 then another  
feast of seeds among the stubble1 and   
the ample fields1 and the furze of the  
hills2 then berries1 and then winter1   
and the last seed4  ,a ,june rose4      
,something caught my eye on the top of  
the high hawthorn hedge beside the      
,brighton road one evening as it was    
growing dusk1 and on looking again there
 was a spray of briar in flower1 two    
roses in full bloom and out of reach1   
and one spray of three growing buds4 ,so
 it is ever with the ,june rose4 ,it is 
found unexpectedly1 and when you are not
 looking for it4 ,it is a gift1 not a   
discovery1 or anything earned--a gift   
like love and happiness4 ,with ripening 
grasses the rose comes1 and the rose is 
summer3 till then it is spring4 ,on the 
green banks--waste places--beside the   
,new ,road 7,kingsdown ,road formerly7  
the streaked pink convolvulus is in     
flower2 a sign that the spring forces   
have spent themselves1 that the sun is  

near his fulness4 ,the flower itself is 
shapely1 yet it is not quite welcome2 it
 says too plainly that we are near the  
meridian4 ,there are months of warmth to
 follow--brilliant sunshine and new     
beauties2 but the freshness1 the joyous 
looking forward of spring is gone4 ,upon
 these banks the first coltsfoot flowers
 in ,march1 the first convolvulus in    
summer1 and almost the last hawkweed in 
autumn4 ,a yellow vetchling1 too1 is now
 opening its yellow petals beside the   
,long ,ditton road3 another summer      
flower1 which comes in as the blue      
veronica is leaving the sward4  ,as tall
 as the young corn the mayweed fringes  
the arable fields with its white rays   
and yellow centre1 somewhat as the broad
 moon-daisies stand in the grass4 ,by   
this time generally the corn is high    
above the mayweed1 but this year the    
flower is level with its shelter4 ,the  
pale corn buttercup is in flower by the 
,new ,road1 not in the least            
overshadowed by the crops at the edge of

 which it grows4 ,by the stream through 
,tolworth ,common spotted persicaria is 
rising thickly1 but even this           
strong-growing plant is backward and    
checked on the verge of the shrunken    
stream4 ,the showers that have since    
fallen have not made up for the lack of 
the ,april rains1 which in the most     
literal sense cause the flowers of ,may 
and ,june4 ,without those early spring  
rains the wild flowers cannot push their
 roots and develop their stalks in time 
for the summer sun4 ,the sunshine and   
heat finds them unprepared4 ,in the     
ditches the square-stemmed figwort is   
conspicuous by its dark green4 ,it is   
very plentiful about ,surbiton4 ,just   
outside the garden in a waste corner the
 yellow flowers of celandine are        
overhung by wild hops and white bryony1 
two strong plants of which have climbed 
up the copse hedge1 twining in and out  
each other4 ,both have vine-like leaves2
 but the hops are wrinkled1 those of the
 bryony hairy or rough to the touch4    

,the hops seem to be the most powerful1 
and hold the bryony in the background4  
,the young spruce firs which the        
wood-pigeon visited in the spring with  
an idea of building there look larger   
and thicker now the fresh green needles 
have appeared4  ,in the woodland lane to
 ,claygate the great elder-bushes are   
coming into flower1 each petal a        
creamy-white4 ,the dogwood1 too1 is     
opening1 and the wild guelder-roses     
there are in full bloom4 ,there is a    
stile from which a path leads across the
 fields thence to ,hook4 ,the field by  
the stile was fed off in spring1 and now
 is yellow with birdsfoot lotus1 which  
tints it because the grass is so short4 
,from the grass at every footstep a     
crowd of little hoppers leap in every   
direction1 scattering themselves hastily
 abroad4 ,the little mead by the copse  
here is more open to the view this year1
 as the dry winter has checked the      
growth of ferns and rushes4 ,there is a 
flock of missel-thrushes in it3 the old 

birds feed the young1 who can fly well  
in the centre of the field4 ,lesser     
birds come over from the hedges to the  
bunches of rushes4 ,slowly wandering    
along the lane and looking over the     
mound on the right hand 7cow-wheat with 
yellow lip is in flower on the mound71  
there are glimpses between the bushes   
and the ,spanish chestnut-trees of      
far-away blue hills--blue under the     
summer sky4  ,,footnote3  #b #ahha4     
,,the ,,golden-,,crested ,,wren4   ,this
 lovely little bird is so small and     
light that it can cling suspended on the
 end of a single narrow leaf1 or needle 
of pine1 and it does not depress the    
least branch on which it may alight4    
,the gold-crest frequents the loneliest 
heath1 the deepest pine wood1 and the   
immediate neighbourhood of dwellings    
indifferently4 ,a ,scotch fir or pine   
grew so near a house in which ,i once   
lived that the boughs almost brushed the
 window1 and when confined to my room by
 illness1 it gave me much pleasure to   

watch a pair of these wrens who         
frequently visited the tree4 ,they are  
also fond of thick thorn hedges1 and1   
like all birds1 have their favourite    
localities1 so that if you see them once
 or twice in one place you should mark  
the tree or bush1 for there they are    
almost certain to return4 ,it would be  
quite possible for a person to pass     
several years in the country and never  
see one of these birds4 ,there is a     
trick in finding birds' nests1 and a    
trick in seeing birds4 ,the first ,i    
noticed was in an orchard2 soon after1  
,i found a second in a yew-tree 7close  
to a window71 and after that constantly 
came upon them as they crept through    
brambles or in hedgerows1 or a mere     
speck up in a fir-tree4 ,so soon as ,i  
had seen one ,i saw plenty4     ,,an    
,,extinct ,,race4   ,there is something 
very mournful in a deserted house1 and  
the feeling is still further intensified
 if it happens to have once been a      
school1 where a minor world played out  

its little drama1 and left its history  
written on the walls4 ,for a great boys'
 school is like a kingdom with its      
monarchs1 its ministers1 and            
executioners1 and even its changes of   
dynasty4 ,such a house stood no long    
while since on the northern border-land 
of ,wilts and ,berks1 a mansion in its  
origin back in the days of ,charles     
,,ii41 and not utterly unconnected with 
the great events of those times1 but    
which1 for hard on a hundred years--from
 the middle of the eighteenth to the    
middle of the nineteenth century--was   
used as a superior grammar-school1 or   
college1 as it would now be called4     
,gradually falling in reputation1 and   
supplanted by modern rivals for fifteen 
or twenty years1 the huge hollow halls  
and endless dormitories were silent1 and
 the storms that sway with savage force 
down from the hills wreaked their will  
upon the windows and the rotting roof4  
,inside the refectory--the windows being
 blown in--and over the antique-carved  

mantelpiece1 two swallows' nests had    
been built to the ceiling or cornice4   
,the whitewashed walls were yellow and  
green with damp1 and covered with       
patches of saltpetre efflorescence4 ,but
 they still bore1 legible and plain1 the
 hasty inscriptions scrawled on them1   
years and years before1 by hands then   
young1 but by now returned to dust4 ,the
 history of this little kingdom1 the    
hopes and joys1 the fears and hatreds of
 the subjects1 still remained1 and might
 be gathered from these writings on the 
walls1 just as are the history of ,egypt
 and of ,assyria now deciphered from the
 palaces and tombs4 ,here were the names
 of the kings--the                      
head-masters--generally with some rough 
doggerel verse1 not often very          
flattering1 and illustrated with outline
 portraits4 ,here were caricatures of   
the ushers and tutors1 hidden in some   
corner of the dormitories once1 no      
doubt1 concealed by the furniture1      
coupled with the very freest            

personalities1 mostly in pencil1 but    
often done with a burnt stick4 ,dates   
were scattered everywhere--not often the
 year1 but the day of the month1        
doubtless memorable from some expedition
 or lark played off half a century      
since4 ,now and then there was a        
quotation from the classics--one        
describing the groaning and shouting of 
the dying ,hercules1 till the rocks and 
the sad hills resounded1 which          
irresistibly suggested the idea of a    
thorough caning4 ,other inscriptions    
were a mixture of ,latin and any        
,english words that happened to rhyme1  
together producing the most             
extraordinary jumble4 ,where now are the
 merry hearts that traced these lines   
upon the plaster in an idle mood8       
,attached to the mansion was a great    
garden1 or rather wilderness1 with yew  
hedges ten feet high and almost as      
thick1 a splendid filbert walk1 an      
orchard1 with a sun-dial4 ,it is        
all--mansion and garden1 noble yew-tree 

hedges and filbert walk1 sun-dial and   
all--swept away now4 ,the very plaster  
upon which generation after generation  
of boys recorded their history has been 
torn down1 and has crumbled into dust4  
,greater kingdoms than this have        
disappeared since the world began1      
leaving not a sign even of their former 
existence4     ,,orchis ,,mascula4      
,the ,orchis mascula grew in the brook  
corner1 and in early spring sent up a   
tall spike of purple flowers4 ,this     
plant stood alone in an angle of the    
brook and a hedge1 within sound of water
 ceaselessly falling over a dam4 ,in    
those days it had an aspect of          
enchantment to me2 not only on account  
of its singular appearance1 so different
 from other flowers1 but because in old 
folios ,i had read that it could call up
 the passion of love4 ,there was        
something in the root beneath the sward 
which could make a heart beat faster4   
,the common modern books--,i call them  
common of malice prepense--were silent  

on these things4 ,their dry and formal  
knowledge was without interest1 mere    
lists of petals and pistils1 a dried    
herbarium of plants that fell to pieces 
at the touch of the fingers4 ,only by   
chipping away at hard old ,latin1       
contracted and dogged in more senses    
than one1 and by gathering together     
scattered passages in classic authors1  
could anything be learned4 ,then there  
arose another difficulty1 how to        
identify the magic plants8 ,the same    
description will very nearly fit several
 flowers1 especially when not actually  
in flower2 how determine which really   
was the true root8 ,the uncertainty and 
speculation kept up the pleasure1 till  
at last ,i should not have cared to have
 had the original question answered4    
,with my gun under my arm ,i used to    
look at the orchis from time to time1 so
 long as the spotted leaves were        
visible1 till the grass grew too long4  
,,the ,,lions ,,in ,,trafalgar ,,square4
   ,the lions in ,trafalgar ,square are 

to me the centre of ,london4 ,by those  
lions began my ,london work2 from them1 
as spokes from the middle of a wheel1   
radiate my ,london thoughts4 ,standing  
by them and looking south you have in   
front the ,houses of ,parliament1 where 
resides the mastership of ,england2 at  
your back is the ,national              
,gallery--that is art2 and farther back 
the ,british ,museum--books4 ,to the    
right lies the wealth and luxury of the 
,west ,end2 to the left the roar and    
labour1 the craft and gold1 of the      
,city4 ,for themselves1 they are the    
only monument in this vast capital      
worthy of a second visit as a monument4 
,over the entire area covered by the    
metropolis there does not exist another 
work of art in the open air4 ,there are 
many structures and things1 no other    
art4 ,the outlines of the great animals1
 the bold curves and firm touches of the
 master hand1 the deep indents1 as it   
were1 of his thumb on the plastic metal1
 all the technique and grasp written    

there1 is legible at a glance4 ,then    
comes the pose and expression of the    
whole1 the calm strength in repose1 the 
indifference to little things1 the      
resolute view of great ones4 ,lastly1   
the soul of the maker1 the spirit which 
was taken from nature1 abides in the    
massive bronze4 ,these lions are finer  
than those that crouch in the cages at  
the ,zoological ,gardens2 these are     
truer and more real1 and1 besides1 these
 are lions to whom has been added the   
heart of a man4 ,nothing disfigures     
them2 smoke and1 what is much worse1    
black rain--rain which washes the       
atmosphere of the suspended mud--does   
not affect them in the least4 ,if the   
choke-damp of fog obscures them1 it     
leaves no stain on the design2 if the   
surfaces be stained1 the idea made      
tangible in metal is not4 ,they are no  
more touched than ,time itself by the   
alternations of the seasons4 ,the only  
noble open-air work of native art in the
 four-million city1 they rest there     

supreme and are the centre4 ,did such a 
work exist now in ,venice1 what immense 
folios would be issued about it6 ,all   
the language of the studios would be    
huddled together in piled-up and        
running-over laudation1 and curses on   
our insular swine-eyes that could not   
see it4 ,i have not been to ,venice1    
therefore ,i do not pretend to a        
knowledge of that mediaeval potsherd2   
this ,i do know1 that in all the endless
 pictures on the walls of the galleries 
in ,london1 year after year exposed and 
disappearing like snow somewhere unseen1
 never has there appeared one with such 
a subject as this4 ,weak1 feeble1       
mosaic1 gimcrack1 coloured tiles1 and   
far-fetched compound monsters1          
artificial as the graining on a deal    
front door1 they cannot be compared2 it 
is the gingerbread gilt on a circus car 
to the column of a ,greek temple4 ,this 
is pure open air1 grand as ,nature      
herself1 because it is ,nature with1 as 
,i say1 the heart of a man added4  ,but 

if any one desire the meretricious      
painting of warm light and cool yet not 
hard shade1 the effect of colour1 with  
the twitching of triangles1 the spangles
 glittering1 and all the arrangement    
contrived to take the eye1 then he can  
have it here as well as noble sculpture4
 ,ascend the steps to the ,national     
,gallery1 and stand looking over the    
balustrade down across the square in    
summer hours4 ,let the sun have sloped  
enough to throw a slant of shadow       
outward2 let the fountains splash whose 
bubbles restless speak of rest and      
leisure1 idle and dreamy2 let the       
blue-tinted pigeons nod their heads     
walking1 and anon crowd through the air 
to the roof-tops4 ,shadow upon the one  
side1 bright light upon the other1 azure
 above and swallows4 ,ever rolling the  
human stream flows1 mostly on the south 
side yonder1 near enough to be audible1 
but toned to bearableness4 ,a stream of 
human hearts1 every atom a living mind  
filled with what thoughts8--a stream    

that ran through ,rome once1 but has    
altered its course and wears away the   
banks here now and triturates its own   
atoms1 the hearts1 to dust in the       
process4 ,yellow omnibuses and red cabs1
 dark shining carriages1 chestnut       
horses1 all rushing1 and by their motion
 mixing their colours so that the       
commonness of it disappears and the hues
 remain1 a streak drawn in the groove of
 the street--dashed hastily with thick  
camel's hair4 ,in the midst the calm    
lions1 dusky1 unmoved1 full always of   
the one grand idea that was infused into
 them4 ,so full of it that the golden   
sun and the bright wall of the eastern  
houses1 the shade that is slipping      
towards them1 the sweet swallows and the
 azure sky1 all the human stream holds  
of wealth and power and coroneted       
panels--nature1 man1 and city--pass as  
naught4 ,mind is stronger than matter4  
,the soul alone stands when the sun     
sinks1 when the shade is universal      
night1 when the van's wheels are silent 

and the dust rises no more4  ,at summer 
noontide1 when the day surrounds us and 
it is bright light even in the shadow1  
,i like to stand by one of the lions and
 yield to the old feeling4 ,the sunshine
 glows on the dusky creature1 as it     
seems1 not on the surface1 but under the
 skin1 as if it came up from out of the 
limb4 ,the roar of the rolling wheels   
sinks and becomes distant as the sound  
of a waterfall when dreams are coming4  
,all the abundant human life is smoothed
 and levelled1 the abruptness of the    
individuals lost in the flowing current1
 like separate flowers drawn along in a 
border1 like music heard so far off that
 the notes are molten and the theme only
 remains4 ,the abyss of the sky over and
 the ancient sun are near4 ,they only   
are close at hand1 they and immortal    
thought4 ,when the yellow ,syrian lions 
stood in old time of ,egypt1 then too1  
the sunlight gleamed on the eyes of men1
 as now this hour on mine4 ,the same    
consciousness of light1 the same sun1   

but the eyes that saw it and mine1 how  
far apart6 ,the immense lion here beside
 me expresses larger nature--cosmos--the
 ever-existent thought which sustains   
the world4 ,massiveness exalts the mind 
till the vast roads of space which the  
sun tramples are as an arm's-length4    
,such a moment cannot endure long2      
gradually the roar deepens1 the current 
resolves into individuals1 the houses   
return--it is only a square4  ,but a    
square potent4 ,for ,london is the only 
real place in the world4 ,the cities    
turn towards ,london as young partridges
 run to their mother4 ,the cities know  
that they are not real4 ,they are only  
houses and wharves1 and bricks and      
stucco2 only outside4 ,the minds of all 
men in them1 merchants1 artists1        
thinkers1 are bent on ,london4 ,thither 
they go as soon as they can4 ,san       
,francisco thinks ,london2 so does ,st4 
,petersburg4  ,men amuse themselves in  
,paris2 they work in ,london4 ,gold is  
made abroad1 but ,london has a hook and 

line on every napoleon and dollar1      
pulling the round discs hither4 ,a house
 is not a dwelling if a man's heart be  
elsewhere4 ,now1 the heart of the world 
is in ,london1 and the cities with the  
simulacrum of man in them are empty4    
,they are moving images only2 stand here
 and you are real4   ,,the ,,end4       
,printed by ,,ballantyne1 ,,hanson      
,,co4 ,edinburgh  ,london