THE FAERY YEAR 



however, whose years total a hundred and sixty- 

 eight, born and buried in the same hamlet, settled 

 under the same roof and on the same plot of ground 

 they make something like a good old county 

 family, especially when succeeded, as in this case, by 

 a third generation of thrifty folk. It is a cottage 

 with a very thick roof, owing to many re-thatchings. 

 The wayfarer can hardly help stopping to look at its 

 choice little garden. The picture is complete in 

 beauty when, on a hot day, the woman comes out 

 to the old well and lowers her bucket by windlass ; 

 what a sparkle the water has in the sun fresh from 

 these icy, stainless springs ! 



These folk are rooted so firmly in the place that 

 it might break their hearts to leave. The estate on 

 which their ancestral home stands has changed 

 owners twice, changed tenants again and again 

 during their time. The " great family," under 

 which the first octogenarian held the cottage, is still 

 in the neighbourhood, though, alas, not so great by 

 several thousand acres as it was. In this district, 

 then, the oldest family, by unbroken descent and 

 length of tenancy, belongs to the peasantry. A 

 Burke for the humble would furnish many instances 

 of the kind in various parts of England, though the 

 tendency is not towards an increase in their numbers. 

 It is people of this small, strong class who are so 

 valuable in village life, capitalists in industry and 

 self-respect, scarcely a penny of which is squandered 

 in strong liquor, that terrible curse of the poor.* 



* Neither noun nor adjective is a whit too strong for absolute truth. 

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