152 WILD LIFE IN A SOUTHERN COUNTY. 



crop of wheat this year, and prices be low, so uz had 

 better drow it to th' pigs. Last year uz had no wheat 

 fit to speak on, and prices was high. Drot this here 

 wet weather ! the osses be all in the stable eating 

 their heads off, and the chaps be all idling about and 

 can't do no work : a pretty penny for wages and not 

 a job done. Them summer ricks be all rotten at 

 bottom. The ploughing-engine be stuck fast up to 

 the axle, the land be so soft and squishey. Us never 

 gets no good old frosts now, like they used to have. 

 Drot these here frosty mornings ! a-cutting up every- 

 thing. There'll be another rate out soon, a' reckon. 

 Us had better give up this here trade, neighbour ! " 



And so on for a thousand and one grumbles, fitting 

 into every possible condition of things, which must 

 not, however, be taken too seriously ; for of all other 

 men the farmer is the most deeply attached to the 

 labour by which he lives, and loves the earth on which 

 he walks like a true autochthon. He will not leave it 

 unless he is suffering severely. 



