A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE COUNTRY. 213 



with rubbish. Terrible poor truck you often see at 

 the market. Meat ? He doesn't call it meat. 

 "They tell me," he goes on, "that the gentry in 

 Arn'ton, they grumbles a good bit about their beef- 

 steaks and that You ask the butchers where all the 

 old cows go to ! My missus being laid up, we was 

 short of our butter last week, and I bought some in 

 the village for ourselves, so's to send away the full 

 weight. ' Butter ? ' my missus says when she looks 

 at it ; 'I reckon I'll churn next week, kidney or no 

 kidney.' There's still plenty of good butter to be 

 got, if you pay for it. But look at cheese now 

 that 'Merican stuff! and ham : we makes a few the 

 old way, that'll keep nigh on two years, and we 

 smokes 'em in the chimney where there's nought but 

 oakwood burnt ; but there's not many cares for them 

 now, 'cept 'tis you and Muster Lewknor. ' Mild- 

 cured ' they sells in the shops stuff as won't keep a 

 week." 



It is not the first time that I and Avery have 

 indulged a common regret about our food-supply. 

 With the disappearance of so many of the real 

 country products, the country loses one of its prin- 

 cipal charms in the breakfast-table. Eggs are too 

 often only gathered at uncertain intervals, and a 

 casual beating up of hedge-bottoms and the odd 



