54 ECHOES OF OLD COUNTY LIFE. 



Ulsracli told them, '' from inquiries he had made, that 

 there was not much to complain of" ; as although " they 

 had had a poor crop of hay, yet they had an excellent 

 crop of a good juicy root." This startled his hearers, 

 as, from the great drought, the few turnips there were, 

 instead of being juicy, were small and as hard as 

 stones, with no nutriment whatever in them. 



This reminds me of a good anecdote which Mr. 

 Vernon, who left h's noble gallery of pictures to the 

 nation, used to relate of Fawcett, the comedian, who 

 was often a guest at his house. Fawcett was very 

 desirous of being considered a country gentleman, and 

 took a small place with a little land down in the country, 

 where l^e found it was the custom of the farmers to 

 assemble and smoke their pipes in the village inn in 

 the evening. He joined them and listened attentively 

 to their conversation. There had been a succession of 

 wet weeks, and one after the other, as they cam.e into 

 the parlour and began filling their pipes, the farmers 

 invariably made the general remark, " Rare weather for 

 turmuts !" which was acquiesced in by the remainder of 

 the party. Fawcett treasured up this remark, and when 

 he eot back to London he thougrht he must show off his 

 aaricultural knowledcre ; and when his friends at the 

 theatre, or anywhere else, were complaining of the wet 

 weather, he always came out as an oracle with the 

 remark, " Rare weather for turnips ! " and this phrase 

 obtained him the reputation of being a distinguished 

 authority on farming. It so happened that before he 

 went back again to his country home a very serious 

 drought had set in, and the soil was parched up in 



