FIFTY YEARS OF A SHOWMAN'S LIFE 



we parted, and added to our delight by presenting 

 us with a souvenir of the occasion in the shape 

 of a fine brush, a trophy of his younger days. 



Whether it was due to the exhilaration of the 

 chase, the effects of the home-brewed, or a com- 

 bination of the two, I am not at this distance of 

 time prepared to say, but I remember we were in 

 a high state of jubilation as we started on the 

 return journey. A friendly poultry man, with 

 whom we scraped acquaintance, ^ave us a lift 

 homewards, and the three of us who were his 

 passengers stowed ourselves away in pretty close 

 quarters among the straw at the back of his 

 market cart. Here, during our progress, we took 

 it in turns to triumphantly wave the brush, so 

 that it might be " plain for all men to see," with 

 a view to creating an impression that we had 

 been in at the death, and received the reward of 

 our prowess. To emphasize the fact further, every 

 flourish of our trophy was accompanied by a 

 " tally ho, gone away," which made the welkin 

 ring as long as we were in the country, and shocked 

 " the High " out of all propriety when we emerged 

 into it from Magdalen Bridge. 



Joseph Harris has long since departed for 

 those other "happy hunting-grounds," whence 

 there is no return, but his memory seemed to be 

 worth perpetuating in these rambling recollec- 

 tions, if only as illustrating an agricultural type 

 which has mostly passed out of existence. 



Then, as now, there were farmers and farmers, 

 and one of a distinctly different type to the last 

 came sufficiently within my sphere of observation 

 to enable me to include him in my sketchbook of 



16 



