WALKS IN THE WHEAT-FIELDS. 135 



would have made, imagine the hundreds and hundreds 

 of sacks of wheat they filled when they were threshed. 

 I have often thought that it would perhaps be a good 

 thing if this contribution of the real tenth could be 

 brought back again for another purpose. If such a barn 

 could be filled now, and its produce applied to the help 

 of the poor and aged and injured of the village, we 

 might get rid of that blot on our civilisation the work- 

 house. Mr. Besant, in his late capital story, ' The Chil- 

 dren of Gibcon,' most truly pointed out that it was custom 

 which rendered all men indifferent to the sufferings of 

 their fellow-creatures. In the old Roman days men 

 were crucified so often that it ceased even to be a show ; 

 the soldiers played at dice under the miserable wretches ; 

 the peasant women stepping by jested and laughed and 

 sang. Almost in our own time dry skeletons creaked 

 on gibbets at every cross-road : 



When for thirty shillings men were hung, 

 And the thirst for blood grew stronger, 



Men's lives were valued then at a sheep's 

 Thank God that lasts no longer. 



So strong is custom and tradition, and the habit of 

 thought it weaves about us, that I have heard ancient 

 and grave farmers, when the fact was mentioned with 

 horror, hum, and ah ! and handle their beards, and mutter 

 that ' they didn't know as 'twas altogether such a bad 

 thing as they was hung for sheep-stealing.' There were 

 parsons then, as now, in every rural parish preaching and 

 teaching something they called the Gospel. Why did 

 they not rise as one man and denounce this ghastly ini- 

 quity, and demand its abolition ? They did nothing of 

 the sort ; they enjoyed their pipes and grog very com- 

 fortably. 



