44 AT THE SIGN OF THE STOCK YARD INN 



will also learn that the grim visage worn by good 

 old AMOS GRUICKSHANK is but the mask of a kindly 

 soul reflecting nothing more than the granite of his 

 Aberdeenshire hills. And if you had spent a good 

 part of a lifetime delving into their secrets, you 

 would find that it is the invisible in that little room, 

 rather than the visible, that fires the soul of one 

 who enters understandingly. 



To my mind, this little room is superbly sugges- 

 tive and symbolical. It is not simply the one good 

 old Yorkshire squire I see when I gaze upon the 

 kindly face of THOMAS BOOTH, but all his race and 

 kin. And what a power for good they were in the 

 world of rural progress! It is not alone the laird of 

 Ury that fascinates me as I look at that extraor- 

 dinary physiognomy, but through him I recognize the 

 mighty impulse Scotland gave to the cause of better 

 farming. It is not merely WILLIAM TORR to whom 

 we pay our homage as we contemplate those fea- 

 tures once so familiar to all the countryside around 

 Aylesby Manor, but rather do we recognize in him 

 an outstanding type of the trained tenant farmers of 

 Great Britain men who have laid under obligation 

 the agriculture of all the temperate zones of earth. 



Let it be said, once for all, and at the very 

 threshold of our story, that while as a matter of 



