

A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE COUNTRY. Q 



labour, he earns short wages about Lycetts farm, 

 turning out at half-past five in the morning in 

 all weathers, until some small mischance a cut 

 finger "kind o' pisoned-like," or the thousand-and- 

 first drenching, has brought him " on his club," and 

 he begins to see the end. A year or so will be eked 

 out between the parish half-crown, and the parson's 

 " ticket ; " and then, " he don't care how soon he goes." 

 The long life of serviceableness to the country, 

 closing so painfully, sets itself in my mind against a 

 dozen sorts of prosperous nuisance ; and the contrast 

 takes the pleasure out of the day, even as an east 

 wind will suck the light and colour out of wood and 

 field. 



The smell of wood fires and stabledom succeeds 

 to the fresh earthy scent of the lane, as I come to 

 the top of the street. Our village is one long road, 

 crooked S-shaped, lined with cottages, some of which 

 call themselves shops, with a show of oranges or 

 boot-uppers on the window-sill, behind the little 

 paled gardens. The Greyhound, a square three- 

 storied relic of the coach-days, stands half-way down, 

 where the road widens to the forum, an irregular 

 oval, designed for cattle-dealing at certain seasons. 

 Then come old houses with round bay windows, and 

 green trellis-work on their glazed-brick fronts once 



