Chapter 17 More Chatter 
HE flavour of Mr. Smith’s talk was 
never much affected by his infirmities. 
He was as it were a voice sounding invari- 
ably of English country or country folk— 
of fields and labour, of villagers and village 
interests. He had what might be called a folk 
mind. So much was this the case that sometimes 
it was impossible to determine whether a whimsical 
idea of his own was being told, or a piece of 
genuine traditional lore. 
Which was it, for example—I think it must 
have been his own invention—that inspired that 
teasing pleasing theory of his about walnut trees ? 
He assured me, with all the air of village conviction, 
that when a walnut tree died the man who planted 
it would also die within the year. Be it noted, 
this was apropos of a walnut tree I wanted to 
move in my own garden, planted by myself some 
years previously. But Mr. Smith gave several 
examples to prove his assertion. He seemed to 
have had a fairly large experience of walnut trees 
and their owners. 
Almost certainly of true folk origin was his 
tale of a doctor, which he fathered, in quite the 
customary way, upon a local practitioner he named 
and had known long ago. The tale went that 
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