"I don't agree with 'e," returns the lodger to Nattonhole. “'Tis a dale too clammy vor my vancy." "Not a bit. You want to zee a bit o' cream atop o' the vurrer, else 'tis too dry. That's what I goes by, the cream atop." "Where might you 'a-been ploughin', then?" asks Old Gammell, the father of the hamlet, turning to the stranger. "Up to Higher Westacres-in the red land." "Aint no red land to Varmer Brooker's," remarks Dick Morton. "Ees, fay! the best bit o' red earth this zide o' Kirton," says Old Gammell. "And that's a queer thing, that is, vor to vind one vield o' red earth on the granite land. Never could 'count vor that- "What! and you lived in the parish all your life? growls Long Lear. "'Tis easy to 'count vor, zure enough." "Lest heer it, then ", says Old Gammell, slightly nettled at the interruption. "Aint you never heerd tell as a battle was vought on that vield in the Civil Wars?" remarks Lear. "Tis the blood as makes the earth red." "Is that right?" asks the lodger to Nattonhole. "I thought everybody knew that", says Long Lear, fiercely. "Did 'e zee the weddin' carriages pass in the vorenoon?" asks Mrs. Narramore. "Passon's daughter to Bovicombe got married to-day. Her's a sweet pretty woman." "Oh, aye", murmur two or three of the company. "Gi' me an ugly woman", blurts Long Lear, a bachelor and misogynist. "They zay like mates with like ", says the landlady, without looking up from her knitting. A chuckle runs round the room. Old Gammell has a slight choking fit, and Long Lear glares at the gigglers. There is a long pause; somebody splutters in a corner; the repartee has only just tickled his slow sense of humor. Just avore sunrise says Dick Moreton. "Zun don't rise ", from Long Lear. "Oh?" Was you ever to school?" "Zertainly it don't. “Ees, I did a bit to it.” "Then they never larned 'e much. Zun don't rise, nor set; it don't move at all. 'Tis the earth as moves. Any vool knows that!" "Well, just avore sunrise resumes Moreton. "I tell 'e zun don't rise! shouts Long Lear. "It don't rise along now; I'll grant that. Leastwise it don't show itself," says young Bob Brayley, looking round for applause. Moreton makes no further attempt to dispute the point. "No, it aint, it'll be her eleventh," comes from Jan Peters. "Whose eleventh?" asks Mrs. Narramore. Why, Jim's missus.” "Course it's her eleventh, poor zoul! I mind every child as 'ave been born under Drear Down vor 'most vorty year. I mind when you come, Jan-the miserablest objick as ever I zee. They putt'e into cotton wool and ile." "An' when passon's lady come along", continues Jan," she zays to Jim's missus, 'never mind', she zays, 'the more the merrier, and 'appy is the man as has his quiverful'." Ees, 'tis a rare brave sport bringin' up a vam❜ly o' ten or a dozen on thirteen shilluns a week," observes Old Gammell, nodding his head. "Well, us can't go agin what's ordained," says Jan Peters. "There aint no denyin' as times be better nor what they was years agone," remarks Old Gammell. "I've zarved under good and bad maisters, and I know what's what. When I comed here there worn't a man in the place 'arnin' more'n eleven shillun' a week.” "Varmers be a zet o' bloodzuckers, no more nor less," says Dick Moreton. "No, 'taint quite like that," observes Jan Peters, "Us can't do wi'out they, and they can't do wi'out we." They tells that this 'ere technical eddication is a vine thing," says Old Gammell. "I can't zee it myzelf; I'd teach a young chap more'n 'arf a day than what he'd larn in a month from they classes. My gaffer, he went to a lectur' on stock-keeping t'other day. All as he brought away wi' him was this: The gentleman, he zays, when you want to dose a horse, git an old boot, clip the toe off, and shove the physic into the boot and pour down the horse's throat. I don't zet great store by them lecturs. 'Taint book-larnin' as we wants. An' of all the stinkin' stuff as ever I zeed give to stock is the grass as come out of they silos, as they calls 'em." "Well, us got the vote," remarks Young Bob Brayley. "Vat lot o' good 'tis, too!" says Dick Moreton. "These members o' parliament gets up at 'lection times and promises this and that which any dam vool wi' half an eye can zee as they don't mean." "This aint a free country ", begins Jan Peters. "Us got the vote-usin' of it's another thing altogether. Varmer Deane, he's a Radical, and avore he come here he was renting under an old lady as is Tory hot and strong. What did he git by usin' the vote? The push out from his varm, that's what he got, an' jist as he was beginnin' to make both ends meet! She comes down to Varmer Deane's missus one day, and says, • Missis Deane, I heer as your husband is a-persuadin' of the men to vote Radical.' 'Yes, 'm', says Missis Deane, 'them's his principles, ma'am.' Then, my principles is vor him to stop persuadin' of the folk or else to go,' says the landlady. An' go he did. Now that's a varmer, lookee. How do it work when it comes to the likes o' us? An' heer's another thing, I'd like putt straight. My father kep' out o' debt all his life till he got crippled wi' rheumatics, and had to go on parish pay. Theer's no disgrace in that, as I can zee, but all zo be the orficer from the House 'ud talk to him as if he was zo much muck. The zooner we gits these Old Age Pensions the better for we. I zee no 'couragement vor us to bide honest." But the interest in politics and the woes of labor flags as the clock ticks on to nine. Cider is dispersing the premature wrinkles on Jan Peters's ruddy-brown face; Long Lear dozes with his red beard on his chest and his lanky legs stretched to the fire, and Old Gammell begins to pipe "The Banks o' Sweet Dundee ", a song that he has sung on every Saturday for thirty years past. The gale grows angrier, driving in a fierce tumult from the crags of Drear Down; the wind blows the smoke of the fire into the room and rattles the oak door of the kitchen. Storm sprites without yell to the drawling chorus of the stave. I have often thought that "The Magpie" is a kind of safety-valve for the blowing-off of discontent. The inn is a valuable institution, though it has its abuses. Unfortunately many rustics are soothed into dull stagnant content and an attitude of non-resistance through a constant drugging of the senses and perception by beerswilling. On the other hand, the tavern is the only place of social resort in very many villages, and there is no question that these nightly gatherings foster goodfeeling and neighbourly qualities on the whole, while they also educate the laborers through the interchange of opinion upon political and other matters. GEOFFREY MORTIMER. A IMPERIAL FEDERATION AND IMPERIAL POLICY.—(Concluded.) We have now to address ourselves to the most onerous portion of our task-the contributing something to the evolution of a far-sighted policy, directed always towards the advancement of the general interest. Such a policy presents itself under three main aspects, namely, that of defence from external aggression, the promotion of material power and prosperity, and the relation of the empire, in its determining polity as a whole, to the outside world. Let us consider the first aspect. A defensive policy for the Empire would embrace a clear and inviolable understanding, that should the occasion be so serious as to demand such aid, its entire forces would be available to resist aggression on the part of any combination, aimed-as alarmists inform us is quite possible—at the destruction of British supremacy and dominion. For, as Bacon has wisely admonished us,1"Let it, therefore, be a rule to all nations that aim at empire, to be ready and cheerful in sending auxiliaries to their friends and allies, which the Romans constantly observed, insomuch that if an invasion were made upon any of their allies, who also had a defensive league with others, and the former begged assistance severally, the Romans would ever be the first to give it, and not suffer the honor of the benefit to be snatched from them by others." Now it has been stated by several publicists, and Mr. Morley labors the point in his own essay, that in any difficulty of the kind in which the mother country might find herself involved, and in which the colonies had little material interest, such assistance would not be forthcoming. (It is hard to imagine, by the way, how any successful aggression on British territory would not, in the long run, very considerably affect the interests of other British communities, however far removed from the actual scene of operations.) This notion has, happily, 1 "Novum Organum." |