A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE COUNTRY. 1OQ 



us ; but we do not find our cows in the dusk dead of 

 the quick mysterious plague, nor are the carter-boys 

 half-murdered in the lonely fields. Avery seems to 

 perceive compensations in everything ; I do so myself 

 under certain conditions, but partially. I fail to see 

 the make-weight in the modern farmers, the fre- 

 quenters of the Griffin at Tisfield on market-day, 

 for the loss of the touch of refinement and courtesy, 

 the observation and the centred mind of Avery. As 

 I rose to go, the old fellow was full of delighted praise 

 of the quality of the air and the water at Lycetts. 

 The old folk notice such things, with much accuracy 

 and appreciation. " A beautiful water," " a rare fine 

 air," are niceties which our friends in the covert-coats 

 and riding-breeches, the brewer and the broker who 

 farm, fail to take into account ; possessions which, 

 with a hundred others, are not the less real because 

 they are rare. The Rector connects them with one of 

 the Beatitudes, confessing himself to be without the 

 qualification that inherits so largely. 



There are days of March when few things are 

 better for a man than to get under the lee of a big 

 hayrick, stamp his heels in the litter, and set his nape 

 well into the overhanging wall ; while the mixed sleet 

 and dust whirls past the corner of the rick, let him 

 in the warm lull of the sheltered air pull a handful 



